#god I feel like I have rabies I’m so mad

[def-ace-ing-it]

Professor is spouting off a different version of a myth I know, currently foaming at the mouth

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 30: choking with il dottore from genshin impact

warnings: choking, slapping, usage of aphrodisiac, dottore is a masochist, cockstepping, foot humping, degrading, cumming untouched, reader is a harbinger

notes: can you guys just tell that i fucking despise this rat????

as harbingers of the tsaritsa and a group of very unlovable, twisted, evil and just genuinely not-so-good people, disturbance at workplace was common. of course, said disturbance ranges from a simple hiss of “i fucking hate you. i hope your next mission goes so unwell that the only casualty will be your tattered corpse” to whatever this is. this could have easily been called as something that most people would call as ‘hate sex’ if only the both of you were not fully clothed.

so technically, this would be counted as ‘hate masturbating’? ah, fuck the labels or those things. right now, the only focus on your mind was to put this annoying bastard in his place.

he really thought he was the shit, didn’t he? the absolute galls of this motherfucker to even dare to put you down and insult you in front of your own subordinates. not just that, he went ahead and put aphrodisiacs into your coffee and his own like the absolute lunatic he was.

how badly you wanted to crush his windpipes in. that would oh so easy with your current position of your hand wrapped nicely around his neck like those beautiful chokers you see on some certain accessory shops. or even one that resembles a collar that is bound tightly around the neck of a rabies infested animal. but with a deranged doctor like dottore, the latter description seem to fit well with how he was moaning and wheezing, clothed cock humping your boots as he panted like a dog.

“you really are a detestable creature, you know that?” you hiss in sheer and utter anger, your other hand joining the other to wrap around his throat more forcefully. both hands on his neck, ready to crush his windpipes in if you wanted.

you had the power. a harbinger who’s currently in the position of tenth may be considered weak amongst fellow harbingers but even then, the tenth fatui harbinger is more than capable to shake an entire nation and to be seen as a threat to an archon.

and that tenth harbinger is you.

so even if dottore may be the second, one of the few who has the capacity to rival a god, right now he was nothing more than a pathetic dog who was humping your shoe. panting and whining loudly with his tongue stuck out, the mad doctor only focuses on the feeling of your hands choking him and the hardened leather of your shoes.

“y-yes.. yes yessshh yesyesyesyesyes oh archons, yes. i am. i’m a detestable creature. your detestable creature” dottore chokes on his spit, a wheezing shrill moan escaping his open mouth as his drool drips down his chin. he seems to like being degraded like this, the movements of his humping becoming more and more frantic on your shoe.

red eyes rolling to the back of his skull, sharp gasps and squeals following until he swore he could see black dots in his vision. he didn’t wanted to have the black spots dancing in his vision! because if so, how was he going to see you? he wanted to see you. that look of just pure anger on your face as you choke the daylights out of him and let him hump you like a dog in heat. no, he needed to see you.

“aaANGH—! kyuuck hhang♡︎♡︎ gck! ♡︎♡︎” a loud intake of breath is heard as your hands let go of the position around his neck, allowing him to breathe for a moment. not too long after, without even allowing him to catch a full breath, his head lolls to the side with a stinging feeling on the side of his cheek. did you just…?

“eyes on me. who said you could go around tearing your gaze away from me, rat” he could briefly hear your voice hiss through the ringing in his ears. muffled, faint, hard to tell if the voice was truly falling from your lips or if it was one of his manic episode voices talking.

either way, it was still your voice that was blessing his ears. it was your shoe that was now stepping on his clothed, weeping cock and he was thankful. maniac and downright insane but dottore knows a holy being when he sees and hears one. he may have not worshipped any of the archons, but for you? the mad doctor would gladly kiss the soles of your shoes over and over. hell, he would even thank you just for being in the same room as you.

call him unstable as much as you would like and he knows that. he even revels in the title and he would gladly wear that title for his entire life if he could be with you. dottore always had this odd obsession with you. since your titling of becoming the tenth fatui harbinger, he had developed this odd sense of fascination.

fascination to dottore, but unhealthy obsession to others.

not like the doctor cares. he had long since gave up trying to reason with other beings and had lost almost all contact with social interaction if not for the harbingers gathering or his experiments with his lab rats. until you joined his ranks.

“i said eyes on me, doctor” you grunt, slapping him across his face again. on the other cheek this time. that seemed to have done the work to catch his attention successfully as his hazy blood eyes focus on you. his cheeks were the same shade of red as his eyes, however it was hard to tell whether it was from your forceful hits or his blushing.

“ougck—! yess.. ye-es yes yesyesyesyes, eyes on you♡︎eyes solely on you♡︎” the blue haired man nods frantically, slight twitch and wince in his eyes showing that the added pressure to his cock was just a tad bit painful for him. even a masochist has their limits. but did he care? no. no he absolutely did not care. if anything, the crazy doctor wanted it to hurt since it was you who was delivering these delicious cocktail of pleasure and pain. he wanted it to hurt. he wanted it to feel good.

with another slap to his cheek for his continued disobedience — for constantly trying to look down at where your shoe was stepping on his stained pants — the doctor lets out a choked noise akin to a mewl before his entire body spasms. thighs shaking and twitching before a strangled noise is let out as the stain in his pants become darker and darker. the stain moving and spreading, some of it even seeping through the fabrics of his clothes as it drips onto the floor below.

“did you… just cum untouched?” you ask, doing a double take as you lift up your shoe to stare at the white translucent juice drip down onto the floor, leaving a tiny puddle. dottore only giggles, almost as if he was in a drunken haze, as he slowly lifts up his face to stare at you. he looked positively fucked up.

“do that again, pleaasshee♡︎?” dottore drawls out.

[prismaticpichu]

Since you're doing Zack headcanons, what's your take on his relationship with Genesis? Genesis is such a little stinker that I love seeing different perspectives on him. And I love the way you write Zack so it would be interesting to hear!

Ahhhhh Genesis! The guy everyone wants to kick right in the biblical shins. For all his stinkerness is worth, though, I think he’s definitely got some goodness in there- and all thanks to you and those beautiful fics of yours sparking my interest in him!!

Zack and Genesis’s first encounter was shortly after Zack was taken under Angeal’s wi—I mean, er, adopted by Angeal! We’re only shown Sephiroth as being an influential part of ShinRa, but I’ve always imagined that Angeal—and by extent, Genesis—had some serious spotlight too. They’re First Classes after all! The best of the best! (Sure, Zack may have saw Sephiroth on the papers and tv and cereal boxes, but he still had a bit of butterflies when Angeal first brought him to his apartment.)

One minute in, annnnnnnd butterflies gone! Boom. Caught in a net and burned away. Wow oh wow oh WOW!! It was COMMANDER RHAPSADOS AND GENERAL SEPHIROTH! Oh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

Genesis, sitting there on Angeal’s couch, is mortified. Eyes twitching. Lips a thin line.

You gotta be SHIVING him, Angeal. Did you at least get him shot for rabies? And influenza? Did you at least wipe his feet?

Surprise, surprise, Genesis isn’t so keen on Zack joining his friendship circle. Angeal is absolutely mother-Chocobo for his little student and even Sephiroth seems to enjoy his presence. Has the world gone MAD?!

For all Genesis is though, he’s not a bully. His feelings towards Zack never extend beyond impatience and just… annoyance. Why is the new puppy getting all the attention? Why is Angeal, who’s been his bestest friend since they were 3yos, whose dreams they shared and whose path he followed, spending more time with Zack than him? It—it isn’t fair! (Genesis kicks himself for that pun.)

Halftime! Let’s switch sides of the court. Zack is a natural puppy and wants to be pals with everyone. But that doesn’t mean he necessarily gets along with all living matter on earth. Genesis and Zack’s personalities majorly clash—and I’m not even talking “opposites attract” kinda thing. I’m talking God has shut off the magnetic field. Genesis was stiff and smug and was always rolling his eyes at him :( Like seriously!! All he did was ask for seconds of ‘Geal’s mac and cheese and Genesis scoffed. What did he do???

They develop a very “grouchy siblings fighting over mom’s front seat” kind of relationship. Angeal is constantly tearing apart petty little grapples between the two, and then poor Sephiroth gets roped into the lecture too because he’s being a “bystander” and yadyaydya Angeal’s ted talk.

But, alas, leave two stubborn animals in the same room long enough and they’re bound to work things out (or tear each other to shreds, whatever comes first). Genesis begins to take notice of Zack’s impressive swordsmanship—of course it’s courtesy of Angeal’s guidance, but still. The whelp is… not bad. He finds himself watching training sessions between the two, admiring how he almost always managed to actually land a hit on Angeal. (Not that he is any match for Sephiroth—if he couldn’t beat him neither could the puppy. Now that would be unfair.)

Come the day when Zack is promoted to Second Class, Genesis volunteers his time to go to Angeal’s apartment and celebrate. He even took the time to get a little gift—how sweet is he?? :3c C’mon, really. Tell him!

More weeks go by, and Zack’s presence doesn’t feel so asphyxiating anymore. He would dare to call it natural, but Genesis knows that isn’t the full truth. Zack is merely fading into the background as other, more… potent emotions are stirring. Sephiroth’s fame is snowballing and his is falling behind. It’s as if the more effort he put into training, the less it paid off. The less it mattered.

He would show Sephiroth—and Angeal. Just ONE more spar to prove himself. He knew he could.

When Genesis vanishes, Zack feels it. Maybe a little less severe than Angeal’s lack of energy or Sephiroth’s lack of appetite, but he feels it. Seeing those Genesis clones on the ground, and then the real thing, all winged and twisted… No. No. It was all wrong.

“You’re not the Genesis I once knew!”

His words echo far into the sky, where Genesis had already been swallowed.

And so he proceeds to bond with Sephiroth instead <3 <3 It’s a very adorable, healthy friendship and they love each other very much. There is no amount of jealously or genetic revelation that can ever tear them apart <3

[lottieurl]

i liked jeff fine in season one genuinely but my god. the saturation of him is too much for me they’re overdoing it with him for sureee and it’s making me dislike him which is unfortunate because i was fine with him in moderation! also YESS you are so correct about the whole. shauna loving the baby thing. like sophie is fantastic she sold that as well as she could like. if i were watching those scenes without the greater context i would’ve bought it fully. but i Do have the context and so i don’t buy it. and GOD i’m mad about them not leaning into pregnancy horror or ??? showing the dead baby?? and this is just a minor thing honestly but i was kind of disappointed that the scene of the yellowjackets all bloody was just a dream like :( i’d been hyped to see what they were doing since they’ve been using it in promo for weeks. similarly to the gen rabies shot. like it was still good don’t get me wrong i loved seeing that regardless of the circumstances but. still. anyway. there were parts of that episode i loved (everything involving misty was a highlight, which i wasn’t expecting!) but. disappointed by the payoff of a major plot line. also you are so correct about jeff -cannibal laura lee anon

yeah god i wish i could get on board and be idk devastated and disturbed by the entire baby related sequence but it just does not work for me. maybe if not for the persistent thought that they were just too scared to lean into true pregnancy horror AND of showing shauna not giving a shit abt the baby i could like this slightly more but it just feels very cowardly to me. like. she can mildly dislike callie and be a shitty parent but like worst crime a woman can commit is hate pregnancy and hate her newborn baby so shauna can't hate hers. and look maybe that's not a subconscious thing guiding showrunners but idk it just feels this way to me

[brambledpelt]

Marion reads “The Darkest Hour”

This post was brought to you by: the dread I feel before opening this book knowing it is the first time I’m opening a warriors book since starting this years nanowrimo project -It hits me that like, its really ironic to specify “Toms and She-cats without kits” like there are 100% some fathers in there -Like all of shadowclan is ex rogues now huh - BLOODCLAN?????????????? -I get why the names of bloodclan aren’t all listed, I knew about scourge but nothing could have prepared me for what actually reading him would be like this is not what I expected his entrance to be okay -Bluestar :( -The recaps, Good God, the recaps, I know, I KNOW it makes the emotional moments hit less when you recape everything, if it was just Fireheart remembering the big shit it’d hit so much harder despite how early in the book it is

-Getting the word out about their mistyfoot and stonefur’s lineage really does make the most sense as a defense against any plan Tigerstar may have but it still does feel weird huh -Uh oh! -”You’re young” yeah no shit,

-Fireheart being scared by the dog and Cinderpelt by the road, these cats are so traumatized :( -I wonder if windclan is more likely to visit the moonstone with regularity given how close to it they are -I complain about these books a lot and with good reason, but I do think some of the rituals and traditions are interesting -LIONHEART....... -How can having a partner prove unfaithfulnes to a cat you had a crush on, fireheart, c’mon, -FIRESTAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -Love the visuals that show up in the dreams, am not very found of vague prophecy trope

-it was interrupted??? by who the fuck?

-I love Barley, he’s got this shit figured out, good for him -MORE FUCKING RECAPS I KNOW WHO RAVENPAW IS!!! I KNOW HIM!!!!! I KNOW THIS CAT ALREADY -Finally whitestorm as deputy, I stand by he should be leader right now -Okay....Okay this conversation with bramblepaw is cute, I want Bramblepaw to be a good cat, please, let him be good. -DID THEY GIVE A KITTEN FUCKING RABIES???? -NOOOOOO THATS ALMOST WORSE -WHO THE FUCK POISONS A KITTEN WHY WAS THIS SCENE NECESSARY -THANK FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK -Okay I know why the scene is here now but s t i l l -Thornclaw!!! -Brightheart!!! -storytime -Bastard Darkstripe, there really was a part of me that hoped he’d be innocent, I wanted to see how that would be handled -if Sandstorm gets mad again that it wasnt her ill lose my mind, it hasnt happened but im worried -recaps. all the recaps.

-”Of course I’m loyal! as I give another leader the ins and outs of our politics” -I mean it tracks she wouldn't trust Tigerstar but still, there's a hint of irony here -I get where he’s coming from but does it not occur to him or Whitestorm to ask Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw what they’d like

-The bastard man has arrived to yell about his war crimes -”MAKE IT GREAT AGAIN” IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND I know this book is several years old but still that fucking strikes a nerve of COURSE it comes from Tigerstar! -Cloudtail continues to be resident cat atheist -He’s an apprentice asking a question Firestar :(

-I would commit Arson for Brightheart

-Is he asleep now?? -no okay just a special occasion

-Poor Tawnypaw -So he’ll let Featherpaw and Stormpaw choose but not Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw

-Hi Ravenpaw! -well shit -stonefur nooo -please tell me its fight time don’t let these cats die here

-There is something that feels almost too convenient about them choosing now to investigate but still please don’t let them die if we’re getting convoluted at least let the cats live -Convenient time for a speech, perfect for drowning out a scuffle -”We can’t tolerate half clan cats but merging the clans is the perfect thing to do” -Stonefur I love you so much -NOOOO -This is a children’s book huh, children’s books get away with so much violence when it’s animals -no lie if Ravenpaw rejoins the clan after this I’ll be kinda mad, like its cool that he’s helping but some cat should be able to just vibe in a safe place damn -Ravenpaw I love you -”The prisoners have escaped” is not a yowl you freeze to, fucking run -TAWNYPAW NO -OKAY I will give these books that, the set up and eventual hit of making at least Firestar focus his distrust towards Bramblepaw and then have Tawnypaw be the one that leaves, interesting but also :( -Genuinely taking notes, there’s a lot I can say against these books but there is something to be said for the balance in this particular book of maintaining tension by means of offering brief moments of respite from the action, and taking the time to do simple things like Stormpaw’s ritual becoming Graystripe’s apprentice, and the talk about the smaller things like Sandstorm helping Mistyfoot mentor. -Damn. -I knew Thunderclan and Windclan would join, it was pretty obvious but, hey its a kids book, I wasn’t expecting this much blood behind it -it worries me how deep into this I am and I haven’t seen anything of bloodclan yet -It’s weird knowing a sparse handful of spoilers, there’s only a couple cats I’m relatively confident will survive this -speaking of which, if Whitestorm dosen’t survive to retirement I’m suing -Tawnypaw :( -Bramblepaw should get to commit patricide I think -aaaaand there’s bloodclan!

-BYE TIGERSTAR

-Of course it couldn’t be that easy, see I knew Scourge was a villain, but I didn’t know what he wanted -Okay it is very much so a power move to spend several books building up an antagonist and building towards his fight with the main character only to have said antagonist brutally murdered in an instant leaving the lead to face off with said murderer. It seems like the kind of thing that can easily feel cheap if done wrong but I think it works here, not sure how much that stance is skewed by the fact I knew the murder was coming but not the aftermath. -Bramblepaw..... -the people who own that farm just kinda have barn cats show up huh -I adore Barley -Princess!! -”It can’t be what starclan wants” hey maybe talk to Cinderpelt, hey maybe remember that whole “blood will rule the forest” thing, hey maybe don’t pretend you didn’t see Tigerstar get cut down so brutally -y’know the way to save the absolute most members of your clan? fucking booking it, Bluestar said it herself, you got the choices. -Bramblepaw is going to leave to be with his sister isn’t he -Yeah it sucks but you can also just fucking leave -if you think you can form a fighting force surely you have enough strength to help kittens and elders through a journey to safety -Now would be a good time to console your apprentice -”Bloodclan has no respect for the Geneva convention healing out in the open puts not only you but your patients at risk hiding where only our side knows you are will be better for every cat” might be more effective than that Firestar. -If brightheart dies I’m suing -Whitestorm is gonna fucking die and im not ready -”If you’ll have us” as though he didn’t already agree to accept their help earlier -They are putting a lot of trust in the youngest leader there -Prediction: Firestar is gonna lose the first of his lives here -Darkstripe you fucking indiot -WHITESTORM :( -There it is, the first death, I knew it -Title drop -”YOU KILLED ME BUT I GOT BETTER” -Victory -I THOUGHT SHE MEANT MORE BLOODCLAN CATS FUCK -”No longer Allies” ok but what if you were though. you can be separate clans and like...be friends about it -Another book done.

[free-pool-trash]

folklore - isaac lahey {6/?}

part 6 (again) 😖 ***the timeline/sequence of events is messed up but it doesn’t matter too much it’s just to move the story along faster*** everything about this is a hot mess, i hope you love it ;)

(sorry about this i rlly dont know wtf happened it just spazzed out, sorry yall)

word count: 4k

warnings: blood, tension, kissing ;), mentions of abuse, swearing

taglist: @makeusfreefromthisfandom​, @cece-lives-here​, @chocolate-raspberries​, @belsandthings​, @dancing-tacos-23​, @truly-dionysus​, @britty443​, @tanyaherondale​, @furiouspockettoad​, @yunsh-17​, @random-thoughts-003​, @gloomybrieyxb​, @futuristicslimemongerbanana​, @linkpk88​, @big-galaxy-chaos​, @im-a-stranger-thing​, @riaisnotcool​, @its-evita-here​, @pad-foots​, @sweetpeabellamyblakedracomalfoy​, @bookswillfindyouaway​, @what-the-hap-is-fuckening​, @awkwardnesshabitat​, @pieces-by-me​, @wreny24​ let me know if you��d like to be added <3

MASTERLIST

To say Isaac Lahey looked like he’d been beaten to a pulp would have been a colossal understatement. The boy practically limped into school the day after his father demonstrated his dissatisfaction for his youngest son after attending his parent teacher meeting.

It’d been a long night of taking punches, kicks and insults that would plague Isaac’s mind for weeks to come. His voice was raw from screaming to be released from the freezer he’d been locked in after his father grew bored of inflicting pain physically. Deciding psychological pain was just as good as physical pain, his father left him to think about his inferiority for an entire night, only letting him out an hour before he was due to start school.

His lip still dripped scarlet as he walked the halls, both eyes black and ever so slightly swollen and so very tired looking. His steps were taken shakily. It didn’t take him long to notice you standing by his locker, waiting for him as usual. Usually when his eyes flickered over you his body would fill with relief. But after remembering how upset you’d been in your car the day before he found his relief being replaced by guilt and dread.

Isaac ducked his head, he did this purely to avoid your eyes. He still made his way towards you nonetheless.

The first thing to hit you was the scent of blood. Fresh and warm and right from the source, you could tell- you weren’t sure how you could tell but you just knew. You lifted your eyes from the floor. You wished you hadn’t when your eyes landed on Isaac, hobbling towards you with blood dripping down his split bottom lip.

The second thing to hit you, though, was the undeniable feeling of guilt that hit you when Isaac refused to meet your gaze.

As soon as his slow and sluggish steps carried him to you your hands flew to his cheeks, gentle but firm, you cupped them and tried your very hardest to ignore how much you wanted to run your tongue along his bleeding lip. It was proving a lot harder than you would have ever thought it would, in all honesty.

You forced your eyes to stay locked on his, your jaw tight and teeth clenched, your own anger overpowering Isaac’s guilt. “What did he do to you?” You asked him softly, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones with a feather like touch. The last thing you wanted to do was put him in any more pain than he was already in.

“I may have a C minus in more than just chem.” Isaac explained flatly. Despite the slight ache your hands caused him he couldn’t stop himself from melting into you, loving your warmth as opposed to the cold of the basement freezer. 

At his confession you found yourself unable to hold yourself back any longer. You let out a sigh and Isaac fixed you with a confused gaze as he watched your brows furrow in determination. “Come with me.” 

Isaac followed behind you as you led him towards the basement of the school, nobody ever went down there and your first class, with Isaac, happened to be a free period. It wasn’t until you were standing across from each other again in the narrow dark hallway of the basement that Isaac spoke up in question, “Did you bring me down here to kill me or…”

You let out a shaky sigh, confidence waning as you second guessed yourself. Was this a good idea? Absolutely not. Would it make him feel better, however? Incredibly so, yes.

Deciding you’d probably stretched the whole “keep Isaac out of it” thing as far as you could, there was no point keeping it from him any longer- he was getting hurt whether he knew about the supernatural or not. 

“I’m about to tell you something completely bizarre and I need you to, one, please believe me and don’t freak out and, two, don’t be mad at me for not telling you sooner.” Isaac’s eyebrow rose in concern, “Yeah- yeah sure, ok- what is it?” His voice was filled with worry as were his eyes, that still sparkled despite the dark purple colouring surrounding them paired with the dim lightening of the windowless basement.

“Remember that thing that bit me?” You asked and he nodded mutely, “well, it sort of… gave me something.”

Isaac gasped, “Rabies?” His question was so positively drenched with genuine concern that you had to laugh, grabbing his hand and shaking your head softly. 

“No, I don’t have rabies.” You laughed again, his relieved sigh bouncing off the walls.

“Thank God.”

“It’s probably best if I just show you.” You told him, smiling softly and nodding your head in resolve. You were doing this.

“Show me wha-... holy shit.” Isaac gasped yet again, mouth agape and eyes wide as he stared at your, now slightly changed face, your eyes were a glowing purple and you had fangs? Something in the back of his head told him that, really, he should be afraid. But he wasn’t. Not even in the slightest. He thought the look suited you quite frankly. The way the purple glow of your eyes reflected against your complexion in the dim lighting was, in all honesty, completely mesmerising.

“I’m a vampire.” You clarified, although it was perfectly obvious. Isaac only nodded his head numbly, still trying to comprehend what he was looking at.

When he didn’t say anything after a solid ten seconds you spoke yet again, “I’m telling you because, I hate seeing you hurt…” Your voice trailed off, you weren’t exactly sure what to say in the moment.

It was just then that Isaac spoke up, a sad lilt in his voice while he squeezed your hand, “Come on, (N/n). Don’t do this to yourself, you know there’s nothing you can do-“ You cut him off, voice a mix of anxiety and excitement, “But Isaac! I can! I can do something about it! Okay? Look- I’ve got all these new vampire abilities and one of them…” You paused to take a breath, eyes flying around his face frantically before you finally locked your gaze with his. 

Swallowing the lump on your throat you finished, “I can take your pain away. And physically heal you- but that might not be such a good idea. Your dad would know something was up.”

One thing you loved about Isaac was that he always took your word for things. He never ever doubted you and always believed you when you told him something. Even in a situation like this< he never asked questions< he simply trusted you.

“Will taking my pain away hurt you? Because if it will then absolutely not, I’ll keep it to myself I don’t want you getting hurt because of-“ Isaac fretted anxiously, only stopping when your hands returned to their previous spot on his cheeks, smiling sweetly, “It won’t hurt at all. It���s actually quite enjoyable.”

“How do you do it?” He asked tentatively, hands moving to rest on your waist, an action that wasn’t entirely uncommon but was usually saved for the most intimate of shared moments, which, you supposed, this was.

Nervously you chewed on the inside of your cheek before telling him, “Well, when I feed on someone, its got some kind of euphoric effect- kinda like a drug high or something.” 

Isaac, yet again, nodded his head. “Okay. Go for it.” He told you surely, though hints of anxiety still lingered in his voice. 

You nodded slowly in response. Your hands slipped from his cheeks, the left was now tangled in his curls and tilting his head gently to the side to expose his, already bruised, neck. The other grabbed ahold of his shoulder, bringing him down so that you were level with his neck.

Isaac’s eyes stayed glued to you while you walked him carefully backwards until his back met the wall of the basement, your eyes were still glowing and it was when you nervously peered up at him through your lashes that he realised; he’d do anything you ever asked him to.

“This might sting a bit. Tell me if you start to feel dizzy.” You warned before, hesitantly, moving your fangs towards his neck. His grip on your waist tightening as you bit into him, as gently as you could. He let out a short hiss of pain before you felt him relax against you, his eyes closed and his jaw fell slack the second his blood hit your tongue.

His blood was an entirely new experience. It tasted like, you didn’t actually know, but it was like nothing you’d ever consumed before. If you thought Stiles’ blood was good, Isaac’s was on another level. Maybe all your pinning for him made him taste better to you? You didn’t know.

A satisfied sound unconsciously left your mouth at the flavour while your hand tightened in his hair, but in your close proximity you picked up something more than just the taste of his blood. It felt like… lust? 

The feeling was backed up by the throaty groan falling from Isaac’s mouth, his hands not only tightening on your waist but pulling you closer to his body. Now chest to chest as your lips moved on his neck.

True to your word, Isaac already forgot about the ache in his body- his mind now consumed by the feeling of you, the girl he was not so secretly in love with, with your lips and tongue situated on his neck. And if that alone wasn’t enough to steer his mind away from his pain, the feeling the bite gave to him definitely did the trick.

It was like morphine running straight through his veins. He felt not only like he’d never been hurt to begin with but as well as that, and maybe more importantly, his mind was completely at peace- his thoughts purely consumed by you.

The way you looked when you removed your mouth from his neck was bordering on ethereal, your bodies remained pressed against each other and for a few moments you simply stared at each other with half lidded eyes. Isaac’s breath came out in pants as he stared down at you, your own eyes captivated by the dried blood on his lower lip. Noticing this, and with very little composure what with his current blissed out state, Isaac spoke, “You can take it- the blood. If you want it.”

You weren’t sure at what point it had happened but the lust you felt earlier had magnified tenfold, although you were sure it didn’t all belong to Isaac- you felt it too. He stared at your lips the way you’d been starring at his only seconds ago, did he want you to kiss him? It seemed like it. Did you want to kiss him. Absolutely. A thousand times over.

Again you found yourself wondering; was this a good idea? And, again, you found yourself thinking that, no, it probably wasn’t the best idea. 

Your inhibitions were lowered significantly since you fed, feeding on Stiles’ had been enjoyable but feeding on Isaac, though- that had been intoxicating. Perfectly content to blame what you were about to do on your intoxication if it came back to bite you in the ass, you moved your hands back to their favourite spot cupping Isaac’s cheeks.

Slowly, you pulled him back down to your level, the boy in your grasp complying quite happily, seemingly entranced by your face. Butterflies were erupting violently in your stomach at the way his blue eyes fluttered over your face appreciatively as if admiring art and the way his hands held you to him so tenderly, like he was afraid to hurt you despite knowing you were a supernatural entity. 

What you’d give for him to gaze at you like that, so openly and surely, all the time. 

Without giving it any further thought you gave into what you’d been craving for the longest time and pressed your lips against his, the action feeling more intoxicating than the blood itself. 

Isaac’s hands mirrored yours, sliding up your side before resting against your cheeks. 

His lips moved furiously against yours. The many bruises and injuries that littered his body were long forgotten as he tasted you against his lips, finally.

Your breath came out in pants as you pulled away, your forehead resting against Isaac’s and your chests still pressed against each other. 

It was only when you studied his face that you’d realised you never even got the blood from his split lower lip. What made you feel better though, was the fact that he’d kissed you as passionately as you’d kissed him and his hands that still cupped your cheeks.

“That definitely made me feel better.” Isaac breathed out against your lips, a dopey smile forming on his own.

An airy laugh left your throat at his comment, all your fears of the kiss causing havoc evaporated from your mind with the sound of his voice.

“On a scale of one to ten how drunk do you feel right now?” You asked him teasingly, noticing his eyes were glazed over and his almost static feeling happiness was popping in your chest, almost like fireworks.

Isaac only shrugged, his happiness feeling as though it couldn’t ever be dampened after the kiss he’d just shared with you. “Tipsy at best.” He answered, and true enough you noticed he’d regained his composure a lot faster than Stiles had done the first time you fed on him. Kisses did have a tendency to be sobering, you supposed. 

A silence fell over the pair of you after that. Isaac’s eyes returned their gaze to your lips yet again and you would’ve had to be blind not to notice. By this point your eyes had returned to their usual colour and your fangs reverted back into their dormant form of your regular canines, he was simply looking at you now, just you, no supernatural frills to be seen. But as always, you just being you was enough for him. 

“Would our friendship be destroyed if I told you I really want to kiss you again?” Before you could even answer, he was already dipping his lips back to yours. Not that you minded. 

This time, his lips moved slowly and gently, his thumbs rubbing against your cheekbones before they slipped back down to grasp your waist. As your lips, yet again, meshed perfectly with his, that feeling came over your chest again. That light, fluffy feeling he not only gave you but also radiated. It was only when he pulled away for the second time that you put your finger on exactly what that feeling was- love.

With the realisation- the confirmation that the love you felt towards Isaac was mutual you couldn’t stop the wide smile that formed on your lips, you chased his lips once more after he’d pulled away and tried to keep your giggles quiet when he met you halfway with just as much enthusiasm and his smile just as wide.

It was probably a stupid question but you asked it anyway, “So… you’re not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vampire thing?” Isaac shook his head, “I know now. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to.” You told him, a nervous smile taking over your lips as you continue, “But I was kinda warned against it.” He nodded his head, although he was confused, who would’ve even warned you? Were there more supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills that he didn’t know about?

His thoughts didn’t wander too far as your soft voice cut them off, “I’m glad you know now. I missed ranting to you.” 

The boy, still holding your waist, let out a sigh, “I’m glad you told me, too. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what. You had me worried.” He told you, laughing airily towards the end.

When he saw the look of guilt beginning to form on your face he immediately changed the course of the conversation. “While we’re confessing stuff…” he began, shy Isaac returning as his eyes fluttered anywhere but your eyes. “We’ve been best friends for a while, and um-  I’ve wanted to tell you for a while- years… yeah for years… but um-“ you couldn’t help but smile as he rambled, you thought you had a clue where he was going. “Isaac.” You cut him off softly, smile never faltering when you finally dropped your palms from his cheeks, placing them over his that were still on your waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze. 

“Take a breath.” You instructed with a laugh. Taking your advice Isaac took a deep breath, manoeuvring his hands to hold yours, your intertwined hands hanging between the both of you now.

“I like you- love you! I love you. A lot. In a more than best friends way. And I have for a… twelve, yeah, no I’ve loved you since we were twelve. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same! I just thought since we kissed just now that maybe you-“ He was rambling again, as he tended to do when he was nervous and in the moment you couldn’t think of any other way to shut him up than to plant your lips against his. Effectively cutting him off as you did so. 

To be perfectly honest, you could definitely get used to kissing him like this all of the time. When you removed your lips from his, for what felt like the millionth time, Isaac’s eyes remained shut. With the absence of blue it really hit you how beaten up he really was, his eyes were black and purple as well as swollen terribly. When you took him in, the words fell from your lips before you could think of some flowery way to present them, “I love you too.”

A sigh of relief left his mouth and he finally found the courage to open his eyes again. The moment was ruined by the class bell ringing in the distance, signifying that your free period was now over and you’d both need to be getting to class.

The pair of you headed off together with wide smiles on your faces that didn’t seem to die down throughout the rest of the day. At the end of the school day, he’d walked you to your car and gave you a kiss goodbye before walking away looking the most pleased you’d ever seen him.

To put it simply, you were on cloud nine. As soon as you entered your kitchen once you got home from school, though, you found yourself crashing straight back down to earth.

Sitting in front of you in all his glory was Derek Hale, it didn’t excite you to see he didn’t look even remotely like he was about to apologise for being a shitty, unloyal pack member, “What do you want?” You snapped, tossing your school bag by his feet rather aggressively for no particular reason. It felt kind of nice to mildly inconvenience him.

“You need to leave.” Was all he said and you rolled your eyes, crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him with a raised eyebrow, “May I remind you, Derek, you don’t fucking live here. So maybe you need to leave.” You snapped, venom seeping from your tone but it didn’t seem to phase him, he knew how things worked with you. You were always hard to lose but once you were gone you were even harder to get back. 

“Beacon Hills, (Y/n). You need to leave Beacon Hills.” He clarified for you, still remaining stoic. “What? Why?” You wanted a good reason. A really good reason. You didn’t just confess your love to your best friend of six years to have Derek swan back into your business and tell you had to leave town for no good reason.

“If I tell you, you won’t leave.” Was he serious? He couldn’t give you a reason to leave but you could think of about ten reasons to stay, he obviously wasn’t one of them at the minute.

“You’re full of shit.” You stated, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Look I know you don’t exactly like me right now, kid. But for the first time since you turned I’m actually trying to look out for you, alright?” His stoic facade had dropped now, he was practically begging. 

You clenched your jaw, you didn’t want to be difficult but it was hard when the man in front of you wasn’t exactly a smooth operator himself. “If you want me to trust you tell me why.”

“We know who the Alpha is. He’s going to be coming for you next and we need to get you as far away from here as we can before he gets to you.” Derek finally explained, his anxiety bouncy from every cell in his body right into your chest. “Who is it?” You wondered, who could it have been that would make you want to stay? It wasn’t Isaac, it could’ve been Scott but that wasn’t likely seeing as he was looking for the alpha too. It definitely wasn’t Stiles. 

Derek didn’t answer this question. “Your dad is in a meeting with Chris Argent right now. His sister, Kate, was onto you, wants to put your fangs on a necklace. Your dad’s keeping them distracted long enough for me to get you out. So, we need to go. Your stuff is already in my car.” He rushed out grabbing your forearm with a grip you knew you couldn’t wriggle out of. (Not that you didn’t try.)

The wolf had to practically wrestle you into the passenger seat, ignoring all of your colourful threats of what you’d do to his precious car once you got free of his hold as he strapped you in.

Once he got into the driver’s seat, he immediately began to drive, way over the streets speed limit, and it wasn’t until you passed the “Visit Again Soon!” Beacon Hills sign that you piped up.

“Ok, we’re officially out of town. Now tell me what the hell is going on.” You demanded, the tension between you and Derek growing with every mile he drove.

Letting out a deep sigh he finally answered, “The Alpha? It’s Peter.”

The gasp that left you was sharp and Derek knew you’d handle this information with as much disbelief as he had.

Peter couldn’t have been the alpha. The alpha killed Laura Hale- tore her apart. The alpha bit Scott and you, Scott had told you he’d even punched his fist through Derek’s chest and chased him, Stiles, Alison, Jackson and Lydia around the school a few nights ago. Peter wouldn’t have done all of those things… The Peter you knew wouldn’t do all of of those things.

The the more you thought about it the more it began to add up in your mind. The voice, the one you’d heard that night in the hospital, so full of clarity and intention, the voice that consistently rattled your brain with the words of “Don’t let it kill you.” That voice, it belonged to Peter.

“Stiles and I found out last night. He said he had plans for you, he said he wanted the both of his by his side- in his pack. We knew if he got to you right now you’d join him. Even if it was just to spite me.” He explained softly, his brotherly tone making an appearance for the first time in weeks. 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared at Derek in confusion, “What makes you think I would’ve gone with him.” You asked, a tiny bit offended by his statement although you had a feeling he was onto something, even if you weren’t ready to admit it to yourself.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. I’ve been thinking about what you said last night before you ran off and you’re right. I forgot about you when you needed me the most and I’m sorry for that. We both know you and Peter always had a stronger bond than the rest of us. Hating me would make him look better” He told you, not receiving an answer as he watched you stare emptily out the car window, watching the sun as it set.

“You were always so independent growing up, you did things yourself and you loved it. I didn’t know what to make of you becoming a vampire, to be honest I was hoping you’d become a wolf.” Letting out a heavy sigh Derek finished his little speech, “I didn’t know how to help you. It made me feel useless so I focused all of my time on helping Scott. I know it hasn’t been easy for you but where you’re going is going to be really good for you.” 

“And where exactly are you taking me.” You asked suspiciously. “Before you freak out, you’re only staying there until we stop whatever Peter is planning. Two weeks tops.” He tried to reason but it only served to panic you further, “Derek, where are you taking me.”

“I’m dropping you off at the airport and your getting on the next flight to Virginia.” Your eyes widened as you let out a small screech, “Virginia? That’s like a five hour flight! Why Virginia? And for two week? What about the Winter formal?” You rambled, voice high pitched with panic.

Derek shot you a sympathetic look before returning his attention to the highway, “I’ve got a few friends there. One of them is kind of a vampire expert. Says he knows some people that might be able to help train you.” The wolf explained.

Derek had friends? That was truly shocking.

“Who’s your friend?” You asked curiously. 

“His name’s Alaric Saltzman. He’s picking you up at the airport when you land.” 

“So I’m staying with some man I’ve never even met? Cool. Really not worrying at all, Derek. And my parents are on board with this little plan?” You inquired uneasily.

Derek let out a snigger at this, “Seeing as your mother was the one to suggest him, yes. Your dad isn’t so keen on the idea.”

He was chuckling like a little kid and you felt as though you were missing something, “Why isn’t he too keen on it?” 

His laugh came out full voice now as he looked at you with a mischievous grin, “Because before he and your mother got together, she was dating Ric.” 

Your eyes widened and your jaw almost hit the floor, “So your shipping me off to my mother's ex to keep me away from my alpha werewolf uncle? You guys are the fucking worst.”

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

some kind of attention grabbing noise to clue you into the fact that its FIC TIME, BABES! again, mentions of self harm in this chapter, be cautious and take care of yourselves lost? confused? frightened? worry not. start here, for delicious tasty context

His home is broken. When he’d arrived at the Tudor, floating up the steps, he’d almost felt a sense of relief. No matter how bad everything is, at least he can see his dad and sister now. Even if they can’t see him, he can find a way to make them say his name, and maybe his presence will only be a band aid on a mortal wound, but they’ll at least all be bleeding out together.

But he doesn’t recognize the people in this house. They call themselves Lydia and Charles, and their voices sound the same, and they mostly look the same, but these can’t be his breathers, his family, because they hardly seem to count as one. Lydia’s only sixteen, but she looks older, sadder, the dark makeup and short dark hair a shock, when he’s only known her as fresh faced and long haired and blonde. And his Lydia used to smile, she used to tell jokes, she used to have life behind her eyes. This Lydia is functionally dead. She walks around, eyes half hidden behind hair and eyeliner, and sits quietly, hardly eats, picks at her food like she’s already accepted starvation as a viable escape method. Charles is just as bad. His father reeks of alcohol, a scent BJ can’t stand, and the gray at his temples is more pronounced than he remembers.

But worst of all, is how neither of them talk about anything that matters. He sits in his chair, at dinner, listens to Charles berate Lydia over some stupid school thing. “Mom always said high school was temporary. Ya know, unimportant,” he grates out, like he’s a part of the conversation, but no one turns to look at him. Lydia pushes her food around her plate, hardly reacts to the scolding, and that’s dinner. Two dead people, playing at being alive, neither doing an especially good job.

He goes before them, up the stairs, leaving a cold air behind himself, and he finds that he’s able to manipulate his bedroom door, though not by much, and it’s exhausting to do so. It opens only a fraction, but that must be enough to get Lydia’s attention, because she enters, pokes around, and even asks Charles about it. But he can see from the look in both their eyes, that this evidence of his existence isn’t enough. Lydia lays on his bed, in the dark, and cries for their mother, and he would give anything to cry with her. As it is, he hugs his knees to his chest, in the dark, and sits there, shaking and overwhelmed, as he listens to his baby sister softly sob herself to sleep.

He becomes well acquainted with their new bad habits fairly quickly. Charles is drinking himself into a stupor, every night, falling asleep at his desk, barely making it to work in the mornings, sometimes not changing out of his suit for a number of days, only applying cologne as needed, too busy in the bottle to take care of himself properly. That’s bad enough, but the first time he sees what Lydia does, now, it scares him so badly it’s hard to even think. She digs a shard of glass into her forearm, and it at least seems she’s not cutting to kill, but both siblings watch the red prick along the new wound in silence, until he speaks. “Mom wouldn’t like that,” he tells her, not that it matters. “You shouldn’t be doin’ that, Lyds. What if it gets infected? What if you get seriously hurt? Th’ blood’s supposed to be on th’ inside, kiddo,” he babbles, pointlessly, as she cuts deeper, sinks that glass further into her skin, and sits there, watching it, passively. Like it’s not happening to her. Like she’s watching something on a screen. Like she couldn’t care less that she’s hurting herself. “Dead Mom,” she addresses her empty room, as she often does. “If you can see this, you’re probably freaking out. This is coping. I’m coping.” She lies to the air in front of her. “You’re not,” he croaks out. “This isn’t healthy, Lyds, please..”

It’s a nightly ritual for her, at this point. She listens to music, looks through photos, and maims herself, and all he can do is watch her, trying to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, or stupider. A week into silently stalking his own family, and he’s still not any closer to being seen, or figuring out how to make them say his name. It’s torture. He follows the two of them around the house, plays at being their shadows, and trails them places, work, school, the grocery store, wherever. It doesn’t matter. He might as well not exist.

Actually, not existing is already starting to sound pretty good.

Lydia stands up from her bed, still bleeding, and the motion of that breaks his thoughts. She crouches low, retrieves a photo album from under her bed that he didn’t know had been there. She flips through it, and has to sit down, after only a second.

“That th’ blood loss catchin’ up to you?” he snarks, before glancing over at her, and his eyes widen. She’s staring at a photo of him. Several photos of him, actually, and she flips through the album, pages and pages of him. He studies her expression, as she lands on a picture that he recognizes. The two of them, coming back from that disastrous visit to the Smallpox Hospital, on the lift, over the water. She’s nine, and adorable, and he’s sixteen and grubby, but infatuated with the two who had been sitting across from them. Adam had taken Lydia’s instamatic, and snapped the picture of the siblings, making faces, the skyline behind them.

“You remember that day, Lyds?” he tries, as he watches her brow furrow. She sighs, like she’s disappointed in herself, and closes the album, and it’s deposited back under her bed. “Mama, some of these pictures, they make my head hurt, more than my heart,” she says, softly, which he understands. She can’t remember him, all the memories she has of him are locked behind whatever mental wall this curse has created, and trying does nothing but confuse her. Maybe she can’t even see his face, in the pictures. Maybe it’s a blur, out of focus, like the moment you wake up, and have yet to rub the sleep from your eyes. That’s all he is, now, just a dream she can’t remember upon her return to the waking world.

He can open and close doors, but only barely, and it takes the energy out of him. He finds that any fire he lights still affects the world of the living, but when he tries to spell his name out in flames on the walls, all he manages to do is scare Charles into calling an electrician, about a possible electrical issue causing fires. He hadn’t even been able to spell out a “B” because somehow, this stupid curse can tell his intentions, and he hadn’t been able to physically move his arm, to form the letters he needed.

A month into living in hell, he’s finding himself feeling more and more like he’s losing his mind. He knows humans can be driven mad by isolation, but he’d never thought of what the effects on himself would be, especially since it’s not true isolation. He can go into a crowd, surround himself with people. It just doesn't matter, which is what’s making him feel so unhinged, and more than once, he throws himself into a crowd of people, and screams and kicks and thrashes, begging them to see him. All he succeeds in doing is giving a group of New Yorkers a slight chill.

But the thing that makes him the angriest is the day he finds a red headed stranger in their house. He and Lydia come in together, her just returning from a day at school, and him returning from a day of tagging along behind her, and the siblings both stop, and cock their heads at the same time, the same direction, at the sight of the strange woman standing in the foyer. Her red hair is piled in sort of a silly looking bun on top of her head, and she’s got some very intense bangs, hiding her forehead. She’s also wearing almost exclusively purple. She's scrunching her nose, examining one of Emily’s framed prints, the one of Saturn Devouring His Son, looking a bit disgusted.

“Who th’ hell is that?” he asks Lydia, and Lydia addresses the woman. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman turns to face them, and then smiles. “Oh, hello there!” she says, like they're strangers, and she’s welcoming them into her home. She lifts her hands, and rings a triangle Betelgeuse hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “You’re bringing a very interesting energy into this house, Lydia,” the stranger smiles, like that’s the only facial expression she’s got. “You don’t say. I’m about to bring the energy of a bunch of cops here, too,” the teen threatens, staring at the woman, who places a hand over her chest. “My name is Delia,” she says, finally. “Your dad has hired me to be your life coach! He says you’ve been feeling down in the dumps, lately,” she gives an over exaggerated sad face. “But I know with a little positive thinking, me and you can turn that sad aura into a bubbling rainbow one!”

“Oh my god, you should bite her,” Betelgeuse says, instantly. “You up to date on your rabies shot?” Lydia asks. “Positivity makes me foam at the mouth. I wouldn’t get too close.”

Delia cocks an eyebrow, but does move, and allows the teen to move past her, up the stairs. “I’m just here to help you gain a new perspective, Lydia~!” she calls from behind her, as Lydia storms up to her room, and she slams the door behind herself. “Unbelievable,” she growls, throwing her bag on her bed, and he echoes her. “Un-fuckin'-believable!” he agrees, pacing around her room. “What th’ hell is a life coach, even?”

Lydia kicks at her wall, her big black combat boot leaving a mark on the red paint. “I’m the one who needs help? He can’t even say her name, and I’m the one who needs the hippie to come in, and try and change my perspective? A change of perspective doesn’t bring MOM BACK!” She ends her sentence in a scream, her face going red, and then she picks up her bag, and throws it at her bedroom door. The bang it makes isn’t satisfying enough, and she whirls around her room, looking for anything else she can throw around, and destroy. He settles on her bed, and watches, forced to be passive by the curse, as Lydia storms around her room, until finally, Charles throws open her bedroom door.

“You are being ridiculous,” he hisses at her, his grip on her door knob white knuckled.

“Get out! Get the hell out and leave me alone, and take that bitch downstairs with you!” Lydia screams, a hair’s breadth away from throwing a potted plant at him. “Scream and throw fits all you want, little girl. You can’t temper tantrum your way out of Delia being here. She’s going to help you.” She lobs the plant at him, and it barely goes sailing by their father’s head. Betelgeuse watches go over the railing, and then there’s the sound of it shattering on the entrance floor, followed by Delia’s surprised, “Oh!” Charles’ expression is deadly. “You can stay in here until you’ve calmed down,” is all he says, before slamming her door, and Lydia stands there, breathing heavily. “You learned how to throw those epic tantrums from me,” Betelgeuse tells her, as she flops on her bed, and screams into a pillow. read the rest right over HERE

[zukoskataraa]

a day at the vet

hey guys! it’s been so long since i last made a fic omg hope you all like this! this may or may not have a continuation, depending on the feedback hehe. also, it turned out longer than i had planned. but nonetheless, enjoy!

ps: client refers to the owner, while patient refers to the pet

vet!zuko and client!katara

“I’ll see you guys in two weeks. And remember, no baths for Momo here for two days. You can go and pay at the desk.” Zuko says, smiling at Mai, his client. Zuko grabbed the clipboard from the table and gave Momo a quick boop on the nose, heading towards the door. The restrainer headed out first, leaving the two of them behind.

“Will do. Thank you, Doctor.” Mai replies, smiling. Zuko sensed that she had something else to say. “Um, I know this is kind of inappropriate, but would you like to go out for dinner soon? Y-You don’t have to say yes, Doctor. It’s just, you’re really sweet and kind. So, uh, I was just wondering.” Mai asks, avoiding Zuko’s gaze. 

“Mai, I’m sorry, but I make it a point to not go out with my clients. I appreciate the offer, though. Thank you.” Zuko smiles as he walks out of the room. He sighed as he walked towards the front desk, footsteps echoing in the dimly-lit hallway. He grabbed his pen from the front pocket of his lab coat, humming.

Zuko was 26 years old, and he was single. Which was something that almost every client tried to take advantage of when they knew that he wasn’t in a relationship. His clients asked him out on dates, and he would decline every single one of them. He maintained his professionalism, which was something he liked about himself. The next time he would see the clients that asked him out - be it during their pet’s next check-up or outside of work - neither he nor the client would bring up the awkward conversation. Zuko never got mad or annoyed at his clients’ questions, in fact he was flattered. 

“Hey, Suki.” He greeted the receptionist. He smiled at Aang who was talking to a client in the waiting room, and gave a small wave. Aang and the client waved back. “Slow day today, huh?”

“Yup, but it’s still 11, so who knows.” Suki said,  Zuko nodded, signing a form.

“That’s true. So, Momo in room 1 had his rabies vaccine and deworming today along with his check-up.” Zuko said. Suki smiled while typing the information Zuko told her into the computer.

 “Your next patient is Appa in room 5.” Suki says and Zuko smiles. Appa was one of Zuko’s favorite patients. But Appa’s owner on the other hand, was not his favorite client.

“Just a check-up for Appa today?” Zuko asked. Suki hummed and nodded. “Okay, thanks.” Zuko grabbed a clipboard with the clinic form, turned back and headed towards his next patient, almost bumping into Mai who was on her way out.

“Oh, sorry Doctor Zuko.” Mai said, still avoiding Zuko’s gaze.

“It’s alright. No harm done.” He said as he walked to room 5. He opened the door and was shocked at who he saw. Sitting on a chair was his highschool sweetheart. She had long and wavy chocolate brown hair, caramel brown skin and ocean blue eyes - without a doubt, it was her.

“Katara?” Zuko asked, closing the door. Katara smiled, despite being surprised, and Zuko was reminded of the old days when they were in high school. Zuko saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, hi Zuko. I mean, Doctor Zuko.” She said. The old lovers were too busy staring at each other, not noticing when Appa suddenly jumped up on Zuko, almost making him fall. Zuko chuckled as he petted the energetic dog. “Oh my god! Appa, down!” Katara stood up, grabbing the Golden Retriever’s leash and gently tugging on it. The dog gets off of Zuko, sitting down as he looks up at the doctor. “Sorry about that. I think he likes you.”

“No worries, I like him too. Plus, he’s a gentle giant. But it seems that he’s gotten heavier since he last came here.” Zuko says, smiling at Katara. “Where is Appa’s owner though? I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Kat. Katara. But I have to say, it is a nice surprise.” Zuko says, and Katara smiled at the nickname that rolled off Zuko’s tongue a numerous amount of times back in high school.

“I also wasn’t expecting to see you. But it is nice to see you.” She said truthfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Zuko is reminded of how he used to tuck Katara’s hair behind her ear, right before he would give her a kiss. “I’m just doing this as a favor. Jet, Appa’s owner, is a, uh, friend of mine.” She explained.

“Just a friend?” Zuko asked, a hint of jealousy in his voice, and Katara looked at him. Gentle, blue eyes stared into intense, brown ones. “Ah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask about your personal life.” He said, looking at the form in his hand to distract himself. “I’ll call a restrainer. One sec.” Zuko places the clipboard on a table and walks outside the door, closing it behind him as he sighed. He walked towards the front desk, leaning close to Suki.

“Hey, do you think Aang or Toph could examine Appa for me today?” Zuko asks, voice almost a whisper.

“Why? Is there something wrong? Aang left to buy some lunch and Toph is doing an emergency C-section right now with Ty.” Suki asks.

“Well, it’s just that his owner isn’t here. It’s the owner’s... friend that brought Appa.” Zuko explains.

“Well, that’s weird. I thought that the pretty girl was his owner’s girlfriend.” Suki said, and Zuko clenched his jaw, which didn’t go unnoticed by Suki. “But, you’re Appa’s doctor. And you already went inside the room, right? It’d be weird if you just suddenly disappeared.” Suki says and Zuko sighs.

“Yeah, you’re right. Could I get 2 restrainers for Appa? He’s a big boy.” Zuko says and Suki nods, gesturing to the two employees in the waiting area.

“Right away, Doctor.” She says, giving him a wink. He chuckles and walks back to Katara and Appa with the restrainers behind him.

“Hey, I’m back.” Zuko announces as he opens the door. Appa barks, tail rapidly wagging side to side. Zuko smiles as he pets the dog. “Hey there, buddy.” He steps to the side, grabbing the clipboard. The two restrainers come in, and Katara greets them with a ‘Good morning’ and a friendly smile. Zuko smiles, she was as kind as ever.

“Kat, I mean Katara,  you can give them the leash. They’ll hoist Appa up on the table.” Zuko says. 

“O-Oh, yes. Of course.” Katara says and she gives the leash to one of the restrainers. She heads over to Zuko, standing beside him. Her arm lightly brushes over his, and Zuko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say a word.

“Be careful guys.” Zuko says to the two employees as they gently put Appa on the examination table. Appa barks once he’s on the table, and Katara giggles, petting his head. “Alright, I’ll start the examination in a bit. But I’m gonna do some history taking first.” Zuko says as he grabs the clipboard.

“Okay, yeah. Seems easy.” Katara says, looking at Zuko. Zuko looks at her, giving her a small smile.

“I take it this is your first time at the vet, Katara? I mean, you were pretty scared of dogs back then.” Zuko says and Katara giggles.

“Yes, this is my first time at the vet, Doctor Zuko.” Katara says, emphasizing his title. “And Appa here is an exception. He’s a good boy and I’d do anything for him.” 

“You’ll need to be as honest as possible when you answer the questions, okay?” Zuko says, and Katara pokes his biceps, making him chuckle. Katara smiles, not expecting to feel that much muscle. 

“I’m not a kid, Doctor. I know how to answer questions when it comes to taking the patient’s history.” Katara says and Zuko smiles, nodding. Zuko’s questions range from the basic ones to the more complicated ones, and Katara answers each question precisely and correctly - or that’s what Zuko likes to think. Because clients lie all the time.

“Well, looks like Appa is as healthy as ever.” Zuko says, writing something on the form. Katara tries to sneak a peek, leaning close. Zuko chuckles, tucking the clipboard close to his chest. Katara looks up at him and smiles. Their faces were a few inches apart, and Zuko holds his breath. 

“Sorry. Just got curious.” She says, leaning away. Zuko smiles, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

“It’s alright. Now that I’m done with the history taking, it’s time for the physical exam.” Zuko says, and Appa barks. 

“It’ll be okay, Appa. Doctor Zuko is gonna take good care of you” She says in a soothing tone and Zuko smiles. Her voice was always nice to listen to. Zuko puts the clipboard on the table, and places his pen in the pocket of his lab coat. Zuko reaches over behind Katara, to grab some gloves. Katara freezes when she notices that Zuko is close to her - very close; Zuko’s lips almost touch Katara’s ear, his free hand lightly brushing against hers. He chuckles as he leans away and puts on his gloves. Katara lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and Zuko glances at her, smirking.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or unprofessional, but you two look like a couple.” One of the restrainers says, and his partner nudges him. “I-I mean, you two look good together.” He says and his partner shakes his head in embarrassment. Katara blushes and Zuko smiles.

“Well, we actually dated back in highschool.” Zuko says, starting the physical exam on Appa by examining his mouth and teeth.

“I-It was a long time ago.” Katara says, staring at the ground. She would be lying if she said that Zuko wasn’t a great boyfriend. Because he was. The best, in fact. “We, uh, we dated for 3 years.” Katara says and Zuko nods, checking Appa’s ears.

“We were together from sophomore year to senior year.” Zuko continues, grabbing his stethoscope. “Hold him steady.” He tells the restrainers, placing the diaphragm of the stethoscope on Appa’s chest. There’s a short silence in the room as Zuko counts Appa’s respiratory rate. Zuko nods and removes his stethoscope, placing it around his neck. He grabs his pen, writing down the information on the form.

“Were you guys the perfect couple?” The other restrainer asks, her interest piqued. Zuko smiles, looking at Katara - who was now blushing. “A-And why did you guys break up?”

“Well, there’s no perfect couple.” Katara says, looking up at Zuko. Familiar blue eyes meet brown ones, a twinkle in both their eyes.

“We fought, sure.” Zuko says, looking away as he continued examining Appa. Katara looks at the restrainers, both of them intently looking at Zuko. “But who doesn’t fight, right? So yeah, we fought. And we made up. That’s life. That’s how a relationship goes. And well, we broke up because we both wanted different things in life. But we ended things on good terms. We just, uh, never made it a point to contact each other after that.” Zuko says.

“You’re a love guru now, Doctor Zuko?” Katara asks, teasing. The restrainers laugh while Zuko shakes his head, chuckling.

“I have a degree in veterinary medicine, Katara. I don’t know anything about love, only animals.” Zuko says, grabbing a thermometer from the drawer. “Could you make him stand up.” Zuko says to the restrainers. Zuko lubricates the thermometer, as one restrainer carefully holds Appa’s head and upper half of his body, the other the lower half of his body. “Okay, buddy. This might be a little cold.” He says, rubbing Appa’s neck to distract him. “Hold him still, okay? He hates when I take his temperature.” Zuko says as he inserts the thermometer into Appa. Appa moves and tries to get out of the restrainers’ grips. 

“I-Is he usually like that?” Katara asks, arms folded across her chest. Zuko nods.

“Yeah, he can get a bit aggressive during this part. Other dogs may yelp, sure. But Appa is different.” Zuko explains, holding the thermometer. “But then again, I wouldn’t want a thermometer up my butt either.” He jokes and Katara laughs. The thermometer beeps a few seconds later, and Zuko takes it out, disinfecting it and wiping it as he records Appa’s temperature.

“Well, everything seems great. Appa is-” Zuko talks, but is cut off by the door opening to reveal Appa’s owner, Jet. Appa gets excited, barking and wagging his tail. The restrainers hold him carefully, so he doesn’t fall off the table.

“Ah, hello Doctor. Hello, my love.” Jet greets as he walks in the room, giving Katara a peck on the cheek. 

“Jet! I-I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Katara says, putting on a fake smile. Zuko grits his teeth when Jet wraps his arm around Katara.

“Well, my meeting ended early. And I thought that we could have lunch at the park after this.” Jet says and Katara looks at Zuko, silently asking for help. He nods, coughing.

“As I was saying,” Zuko says, and Katara smiles. “Appa is healthy. However, he needs to go on a diet. How many times do you feed him in one day?”

“Three times.” The couple answers in unison and Zuko nods.

“Make it two times a day. Breakfast and dinner. He can have treats, but don’t overdo it.” Zuko says, writing something into the form.

“Two times a day? That’s rough, buddy.” Katara says, petting Appa. Zuko smiles.

“Other than him having to go on a diet, he seems healthy. His next deworming will be… three weeks from now.” Zuko says, checking Appa’s old form. Jet sighs, clearly bored. This is why Zuko hated Jet. “You guys can put him down now.” Zuko tells the restrainers, and they do. Appa walks to Jet, and he gives the dog a quick scratch. Zuko nods to the restrainers, and they take that as their cue to leave.

“I-Is that it, Doctor?” Katara asks, and Zuko nods.

“Yes. You may also give him vitamins, which are available at the front desk.” Zuko says. 

“Babe, why don’t you take Appa and pay at the front?” Katara tells Jet and he nods.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll wait for you. Thanks, Doc.” Jet says as he grabs Appa’s leash and walks out the door. There’s an awkward silence between the old lovers.

“So… just a friend, huh?” Zuko says, raising an eyebrow and Katara shrugs.

“No, not a friend. We’re dating.” Katara says, sitting down. Zuko looks at her, leaning on a wall.

“And are you happy?” Zuko asks, concern in his voice.

“Y-Yes, I am. Just… Oh my god, this is gonna be so embarrassing.” Katara says, avoiding Zuko’s gaze.

“What? You can tell me, Kat.” Zuko says.

“I was happier when I was with you. All the guys I’ve dated ever since we broke up… None of them compare to you.” Katara says, scoffing. “See? Embarrassing.” Zuko crouches down in front of Katara, looking at her. Her eyes resembled the ocean, that’s what Zuko always thought of. Zuko places his hands on her thighs, giving them a small squeeze.

“It’s not embarrassing. Thank you, for telling me.” Zuko’s voice was calm and gentle. “Who would have thought that we’d reunite here at work?” He jokes and Katara giggles.

“I miss you, Zuko.” Katara confesses, her voice almost a whisper. Zuko sighs, standing up. “I’m so pathetic. One look at you and suddenly I forget that I have a boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry, every client seems to forget they have a boyfriend when they see me.” Zuko says, lightening the mood.

“Your girlfriend must get jealous, huh?” Katara asks and Zuko shakes his head.

“I’m single, Kat.” Zuko admits and Katara widens her eyes.

“No way, you’re joking! You’re too hot to be single!” Katara says and Zuko chuckles. “Okay, forget the last part. But seriously, are you still single?”

“Yes, I really am still single.” There’s a moment of silence, neither of them knowing what to say next.

“I should get going.” Katara says, standing up. Zuko nods. She looks up at him, smiling. “We should grab a coffee sometime. You know, catch up. How does that sound?”

“I normally don’t go out with clients. But technically, you aren’t my client, your boyfriend is. So, that sounds wonderful, Katara. I’m free on Friday.” Zuko smiles. Katara nods and grabs a pen and paper from her bag, quickly writing her number. She slips the paper into the pocket of Zuko’s lab coat, earning a chuckle from the doctor. “Before you go, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes, Doctor?” Katara asks. Zuko takes a deep breath.

“You were my first love. And you always will be. And you’re also the one that got away. I know you have a boyfriend, but if there’s even the slightest chance that we can start over, I would really like that. Because not a day goes by that I don’t think about you, Katara.” Zuko says, his voice sincere. Katara smiles, putting her hand on his cheek.

“Coffee first?” She asks and Zuko chuckles.

“Yes, coffee first.” Zuko says, smiling. Katara nods as she walks towards the door. “Wait, Katara.” Zuko says, his back facing the door.

“Yeah?” She asks, looking back.

“I miss you too.” Zuko says. Katara smiles as she opens the door and walks out. Friday couldn’t come faster.

-

masterlist

ao3: zukoskataraa 

[somerpmemes]

What We Do In The Shadows S1 Starters

Change as needed

“This is very embarrassing.”

“If you’ve got something to say then damn well say it.”

“We should get a chariot led by twelve black alligators.”

“Will we be able to touch the swords?”

“You kind of disobeyed me just now. And I’m noting it.”

“Basically, we’re fucked.”

“It’s a glitter portrait. It’s a portrait, made of glitter.”

“Shh! ___! You’ll spook the virgins!”

“Someday they will all be dead, and you’ll do a shit on all of their graves.”

“What the fuck would anyone want with Canada?”

“But when does the wrestling start?”

“Are those little dogshits not giving you the deep respect you deserve?”

“Am I devious? Yes, I think I am.”

“Those who you trust cannot be trusted.”

“Kill that fucking bitch, please, ___.”

“Tonight is a good night for the other guy, not me, to die.”

“You haunted house bitch!”

“Okay, let’s just take things down a notch and then fight to the death”

“I didn’t know I could feel such depth of emotion or utter, utter suffering.”

“What the fuck!? I thought you said she was dead!?”

“Ma’am you’re not fine!”

“You look like a beautiful piece of wallpaper.”

“Everyone looks like Billy Idol.”

“Do you think I might have rabies now?”

“This is a misery for my ears.”

“I was moments away from escape, I don’t know why you bothered coming.”

“I want a night on the town.”

“You don’t knock anymore? Is this the new you?”

“He’s as mad as a wax banana.”

“We’re all going through shit.”

“...did we murder him?”

“Couldn’t you just have telephoned?”

“But, to be honest, I was bored.”

“Why does this hallway never end?”

“The fire marshals would have a fit.”

“Oh god not this fucking guy.”

“She speaks the bullshit.”

“That sounds very made-up.”

“Man, that’s fucking rough.”

“Very dramatic way to die.”

“That’s so macabre.”

“I hate to say it, but I think it’s going to hurt.”

“Major catastrophe averted.”

“Nowhere is my home.”

“You are living like a little chimney boy.”

“I am going to teach you how to kill.”

“We’re going to go to a party filled with hot idiots.”

“You are going to murder so many human people with this!”

“I’m like a little lost duck floating about in the ocean.”

“No one is a fucknut, okay?”

“Are you roleplaying as a depressed man?”

“Have you any idea how difficult it is to make a porno?”

“Shame bats. Bats full of shame.”

“It’s very official. Came in an envelope.”

“Put that on the pile there for burning.”

“This isn’t working, me being supportive. I feel like I am literally eating myself.”

“You saw an opportunity to goad, and what did you do? You goaded it.”

“People love piñatas. Someone’s gotta breed those colorful donkeys.”

[todomochi-uwu]

1, 2... and maybe 3 (1/3)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Kirishima Eijirou; Bakugou Katsuki x reader; Kirishima Eijirou x reader

Warnings: Angst, Poly relationship

Author´s Note: This is the first part of my commission for @beemmmv thank you so much for asking for this, I really hope you enjoy it!!!!!

Bakugou's back was pressed against the dark wood bed heading, his head in between his hands, the trembling of his shoulders wouldn´t seem to stop, his eyes were swollen to the point everything seems just a blur while his mouth failed miserably trying to keep the sobs in. 

Kirishima was on the other side, he didn´t seem to be any better. small drops of blood fell off his lips, his teeth bite them down in anxiety and sorrow, his hands clutched the fabric in his shirt in a desperate attempt to stop the ache in his heart. 

Only one question had managed to take all the oxygen in the room, asphyxiating them, leaving them cornered.

                                                                Where had things gone wrong?

Nothing seemed to add up, no sign, no red flag.

-----------------------------

Going back to when they first years; naive; predictable; no experience at all into what feelings were. They would have never thought that those fist bumps would turn into awkward hand holdings; playful insults would now have a hidden meaning and lingering feelings would insert themselves in the conversation, but before they knew a small peck on the lips in celebration of Bakugou´s new hero license ignited something so big and wonderful it almost felt unreal. 

Everything was great. They made it work.

Kirishima knew how and when to be patient, but also to extern his doubts and thoughts, while Bakugou, although took a while, learned how to manage his insecurities and express his feelings. 

Some things were new, feelings, for example, saying I love you had a new tone to it, hugging and kissing was such an experience, but also some pretty bold statements had been made, they were NOT into girls. 

Funny, considering none of them had even liked someone before or knew what the fuck they were doing. 

Mina had commented along the lines, "Sexuality and points of view will change along we grow, maybe not entirely, maybe just small details, but they will." Might be a crackhead, but she knew what she was talking about. 

But they were sure of themselves.

So... What in the hell had happened?

A bunch of snarky comments and the power of a thunderstorm.  Miya.

The first day she appeared she managed to sweep everyone off their feet, strong looks, determination in her eyes and the scene she had made were enough to declare her place in the room. She stood tall in the ground, small freckles adorn her face along with her rose pink lips, her eyelashes stood long and curvy framing her big brown eyes that were covered behind thick square glasses. 

"Hey, four-eyes you are sitting in my fucking seat. Care to move?" A foot kicking the desk hard enough to make it move and hit the wall. 

She couldn´t be bothered, she got up and went to the back of the classroom, not even sparing a glance to the porcupine looking man.

"The fuck? I'm talking to you, are you as deaf as you are blind, bitch?" Once again, no fucks were given. And that was enough to tick off Bakugou, in a matter of seconds he was up in her face. Truly a mistake. 

"If you don't mind I have better things than to be tacking care of a rabies dog, where´s your caretaker? Shall I fill up a complaint with animal control, because I believe you don´t belong to a classroom but a cage." She pushed her finger against his chest making him back away, not a fraction of fear in her self, she knew his kind, pompous, wannabes who bark much but no bite. "I know who you are Bakugou Katsuki, first and third place in the sports festival, Endeavour´s intern, Ground Zero. Let me tell you something, and you WILL listen, am not here to get yelled or put down by a guy who spits more saliva than he makes sense, make us both a favour and sit down like a good boy and you might receive a treat if you behave. Are we clear?

Complete silence. Midoriya´s jaw was on the floor along with everyone else´s in the room, hell, even Todoroki´s eyes were wide opened and small drops of sweat ran down the right part of his forehead. 

No one knew what to do or how to react until a red spiked hair man decided to include himself in the scene. 

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. Bakugou can be a little bit much to handle, but I assure he doesn´t mean wrong, he's just not good with strangers, please please don´t take it so personally." He grabbed the blonde one by the collar, but he made no effort in detaching himself, still not understanding what just happened. "My name´s Kirishima, welcome to class 3A." And with that, he left the room along with Bakugou; reprimanding him for his actions and stating that he didn´t act manly at all. 

After this, people were a little afraid of approaching her, but soon they found out it was just her standing up for herself, she usually was sweet and considerate, more of a listener rather than a talker, and not a follower. 

Her leadership truly showed when in practice missions she managed to come up with a plan that went accord everyone's needs and strongest points, she took suggestions and comments, people looked up to her. A true icon. 

About her quirk? Thunderstorm. Her ability to invoke a storm at please was amazing and well worked. Her body would lift off the ground and her eyes would turn pearl white, rays ran across her skin, decorating it, her hands sparkled, she looked invincible. 

And two pairs of eyes could notice this.

Kirishima´s eyes always wander to where she stood, he knew it was wrong but the way the dark coloured suit hugged her hips along with the heels she wore it was simply unbelievable, the rhythm she followed while walking; while exercising: while fighting. He was enticed. 

His boyfriend was no different, Bakugou would never admit it, but he would watch from the side every time they had to combat, the way she would frown when calculating was arousing and it was even better when she had her legs tight around Deku´s neck, choking him while pulling his arm, immobilizing him. 

But there were also small things, simple and almost unnoticeable things that made her lovely, the way she small and giggle when Mina kept making lame jokes; the way the tip of her tongue would come out when trying to wing her eyeliner; her baby blue painted nails scratching the back of her shaved blonde hair; or how excited she would get when dripping little drops of pink colourant in the batter for the cupcakes she made. 

Everything amount and made them drop on their knees, their hearts out for her.

Looking on the other side, she wasn´t above feelings. She first noticed the shark-like boy, the way he would cheer up his friends, the words that came out of his heart and the way his smile would light up his entire face. She was confused with what he meant with being "manly" but quickly caught on, it meant being a hero, a good person, and he truly lived up to that. She saw him in the job, she saw him in school and she saw him in his casual state, and she had no doubt, he made her heart flutter. 

With Bakugou things were a little more... Harsh? Bickering, comments back and forth, she would pin him to the ground and he would have her face against the floor. And while he was a dick, she could see through it, she could see his fragileness, but also his determination. The way he would care without saying it, or the small efforts he made trying to tone down his attitude. 

And then. Sad. Tragic. Heartbroken. 

Kirishima and Bakugou were a thing. They had been for a couple of years now. 

"Ugh I can´t believe two of the most decent guys in the class are already taken, that leaves us with stoic Todoroki, pervert Mineta and trembling Deku." Hagakure let out, exasperated. 

"Who are the other two?" Miya giggled, ohh the drama. Boy, she did not expect what was happening next. 

"Bakugou and Kirishima, but I can't even be mad. They are so fucking cute together." 

"Wait, wait. They are together? I thought Kirishima was only just a great friend." She could hear her heartbreak bit by bit, the oxygen running out her lungs and her mouth going dry. 

"No, girl. Two years now. It was a bit of a shock at first but not unexpected, y´know?" 

"Right." And that was the only thing that could come out of her mouth, the two men she loved, the ones who made her skin get goosebumps and sighs leave her mouth. 

-----------------------------

Falling in love was the easy part. Dealing with it? Not so much.

They were unsure and scared, they knew they loved each other, but they also love her. Afraid of hurting each other feelings, they decided it was better to stay quiet. 

Bakugou loves Kirishima and wasn´t ready to lose him.

Kirishima loves Bakugou and wasn´t planning to have him out of his life. 

But it was becoming more and more difficult to hide it, jealousy and longing were now present. 

Suddenly the way Todoroki´s eyes looked at her made Kirishima´s teeth clenched to the point of hurting. Sero´s arm was too close for Bakugou´s liking. Deku´s excitement to see her made Kirishima go way too harm on him at training. And the constant flirting Kaminari did gain him a punch on the eye by Bakugou. 

Things were getting out of my hand. All of it leading to how things were right now.  Communication had been lost, doubts all over the place and the fear filling their hearts.

"Katsuki" Kirishima's broken voice and nasal tone made his partner's heart clench even more, "Could you please tell me what's going on? I am sure I can help if you just let me, you don't have to face this alone."

He decided to stay quiet, Kirishima had been the one and the only person who could see right through him, he could see through the anger, the superiority complex, the hate in his soul, and the idea of breaking the one person he loved, it simply killed him. 

"Baby please, you have to talk to me, I just... I just..." Tears were falling again, sobs coming out not allowing any words to come out. "Bakugou, I just don´t want this to end, not like this, not ever. So I´m begging you, please tell me what's wrong."

And he tried, he did, after a few breaths he managed to calm down a bit, enough to talk at least, "I don´t want to hurt you, Ei."

"I promise you won't, talk to me, babe." He promised his forehead against the door. 

"I think, I think I like someone else." He stayed quiet gathering his thoughts, "I think I like a girl."

Kirishima eyes widened, his heart beating increasing, even more, they were walking on eggshells, "Okay, are you okay with that?"

"I don't know."

"It's normal to be scared baby, but it´s also normal if you like them. I also do."

"You do?" This time Bakugou was left without words, could it be that...?

"Yeah, at least I think so." He remembered the talk he had with Mina earlier that day. 

"I don´t know Mina, I guess I always thought that..."

"Just because Bakugou is your boyfriend doesn´t mean you are gay, Kiri. Sexuality has a pretty big spectrum, doesn´t mean things are either black or white, for all you know you could be bisexual, pansexual or omnisexual; or maybe you just like one girl and she's the exception, we don´t know, all you have to know is that this is okay, you are not wrong, you are not bad. You love Bakugou very much and you will get through this, just talk to him."

"Thank you, Mina"

"Can I... Can I know who you like?" The blonde was hesitant, not sure if he wanted to answer that.

"Okay, but before I want you to know that I love you so much and that this doesn't have to change anything between us, okay?"

"Okay. "

"I like Miya."

Kirishima´s eyes were wide open, relief washing over his entire body and a strange sense of excitement replace it, he had an idea. 

"Hey, Katsuki. Do you know what polyamory means?"

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Perchance to Dream

For @whumptober2020

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

Summary: Steve knows something is very wrong. An outbreak of some sort. Something out of Hollywood’s worst nightmare.

Read on Ao3 

Week One

“What’s going on up there?”

Traffic is one thing. Perfectly commonplace in Brooklyn especially, but this is utterly ridiculous, even Steve agrees. This bumper to bumper, stop and go madness is just out of control. 

“I dunno,” he answers Bucky’s question. “It looks like they’re making everyone turn back around.”

“But why?” Bucky asks. “Is there something going on today? A parade or something?”

Steve chuckles as he inches the car forward. “You know as much as I do, babe.” 

It's unusual but it has happened before. Something big going on that redirects traffic that the neighborhood isn't made aware of. Rare. But then, The City of New York isn't always known for its efficiency. 

When the pull up to where traffic is being turned, however, it's not normal traffic cops. It's not even the NYPD. It's the military. National Guard, Steve thinks.

"Turn back that way!" yells the man in front of them. Dressed in full riot gear. "Just follow the detour!"

Rolling down the window, Steve doesn’t intend on giving them a hard time. He’s just curious about whatever’s happening. As a former captain of the army, Steve is familiar with military procedure and now that he’s a paramedic, maybe he can help. He’s sure Bucky, the former sergeant of the 107th, won’t mind lending a hand either, if they need it. 

“Is there any way we can help, private?” Steve asks after he explains who they are. “Is anyone hurt?”

Before answering, either to turn them away like everyone else or wave them in through the barricade, he looks over his shoulder. When he glances back at Steve again, he looks rather dismayed. Both Steve and Bucky know damn well that whatever he’s about to say, even if it’s virtually nothing, it’ll be against protocol. He’s supposed to be directing traffic away from the area. Not answering anything. 

“We’re not entirely sure,” he says. “We’ve just been told to clear the area. If I were you, I’d get home and get in touch with any officers you might still have an in with.”

That’s all he says on the matter before straightening back up again and waving them along like everyone else. It’s enough for Steve, though. If a soldier, trained not to divulge anything, gave them just that nugget of information, it means something big is about to happen. 

They follow the soldier’s advice as soon as they get home. Steve immediately tries calling his contacts. He starts with Peggy who confirms that something really is happening. 

“I don’t have the details yet,” she says. “But we’re mobilizing all over the country.”

On the television, Bucky’s turned on the news. There’s nothing out of the ordinary on it right now. The typical stories. The weather. Some crimes. Financial changes. Only a few reports about a possible rabies outbreak throughout a few major cities. 

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“Just that the CDC and WHO have been flooded with calls and reports about an outbreak of some unknown virus.” There are a lot of things happening on Peggy’s end and she lowers her voice. “Keep watching the news,” she says, “but they’re not getting the full report. I’ll call you when I have more information.”

The call goes dead then, and Peggy’s never ended a call so abruptly before. Even when in a rush, she always says her farewell. Just a simple, “Good bye, darling,” and a kissy noise. 

The way she hurried now, the stress and worry in her voice, it makes Steve’s stomach flatten. 

“What’d she say?” 

Bucky, who left the room to grab himself an apple, tosses one to Steve as he plops down on the couch. 

“Um…” Steve shakes his head. “I…”

The lack of response has Bucky paying closer attention to him now. The worry is clear on his face.

“What is it?” he asks. “Is it serious?”

“I…dunno. She couldn’t say.”

“Well…that doesn’t sound good.” He glances at the television. Just a story about a woman being found with multiple animal bites this afternoon in Connecticut. “Did you call Rhodey?”

“Um, no. I was about to do that now.”

Steve’s already scrolling through his contacts for the right one. When he gets to the right one, he hits send and lets it ring and ring and ring until he gets the voicemail. Normally, no one bothers with voicemails -- a simple text will suffice -- but things feel off enough that he does.

“H-hey, Rhodes, it’s Steve. I…um, just…call me. When you can.” 

But Rhodey doesn’t call back.

And he doesn’t answer when Steve tries again an hour later. Or when he calls again an hour after that. Or the three times after that. 

In fact, it’s a little after three in the morning when they hear from anyone. 

Both Steve and Bucky are asleep on the couch. They passed out together watching the news. Looking for anything that might clue them in to what’s happening. Nothing helped.

But the phone ringing startles Steve awake, and since Bucky’s lying on top of him, it jerks him awake as well. It takes Steve a moment to realize what’s happening and when he sees who’s calling, his eyes go wide.

“Rhodey?” he answers, hoping to keep the panic from his voice. “Rhodey, is that--”    

“Steve, I need you to listen to me and listen closely,” Rhodey says, hurried and low. “Do not interrupt. I can only say this once. Containment didn’t work. This thing is going to spread like a fucking brush fire. You and Bucky pack up bags right now, only what you need, and have them by the door. They’re gonna quarantine in quadrants first and when…if that fails, they’ll try to evacuate the cities. When that happens, just go. Do not wait. Whatever you do, do not let them bite you. I’ll be in touch if I can.” 

“Wait, wh…Rhodey…” 

“One more thing,” Rhodey says. “Go for the head.” 

The line goes dead then and Steve’s heart begins to pound. All that urgency, the god-awful fear in Rhodey’s voice, it makes Steve’s blood run cold. 

“Steve?” Bucky places a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What is it? What’d he say?”

Steve looks at the phone still clenched in his hand before flicking his gaze to meet Bucky’s. 

“He said,” Steve whispers, “we have to pack.” 

Week Two

There are two bags by the front door, packed and ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. Just like Rhodey said, they’ve been quarantined in a four block radius since two days after they spoke. Steve hasn’t heard a word from either Rhodey or Peggy since. 

Martial law has been declared for two weeks now and the military is patrolling in full force. Always in riot gear. On foot or in tanks. Always armed. There’s a strict curfew being enforced. Each zone has been sectioned off with barbed wire blockades that are manned around the clock. There are snipers on every other rooftop. Sirens blare all day and night. 

Of course, people are coming up with their own reasons for what happened. Obviously, it has to be terrorism. The number one excuse for more racism. Even with absolutely no evidence to support their claims. 

Lots of theories have been floating around. Everything from bioterrorism to some sort of super bug to the start of World War Three. It’s hard to keep track of facts versus conspiracies since the internet keeps crashing. The phone lines keep going in and out as well. Steve doesn’t know if that’s being done in order to cut off communication or if it’s just a side effect of whatever’s happening. He assumes it’s the former and can only hope it’s the latter. 

Restrictions are even tighter come sundown. No exceptions. Nobody is even permitted to sit outside on their stoops or in their yards. Once the sun sets, everybody is ordered indoors. Helicopters pointing spotlights down over everything circle all night.

The news is only somewhat helpful and, Steve’s sure, being censored as well. Every hour on the hour there’s an emergency broadcast. All other stations are not in service. Steve keeps in mind what Peggy told him. To keep watching but to remember that they don’t have all the information.

And what little information they’ve been providing is sketchy at best. 

“This is Elizabeth Brandt.” Steve can hear the television from the kitchen where he’s making lunch for Bucky and himself. Canned soup. “Coming to you live to bring you this important news bulletin.” 

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky calls from the living room. “News is back on!”

“I’m coming,” Steve murmurs as he heads back into the living room where Bucky’s waiting on the couch. “Anything new?”

“Mm-mm.” Bucky gets up to offer Steve help. Takes one of the bowls. “Just something about the hospitals being filled to capacity.” 

Every news report that comes on has information scrolling at the bottom of the screen. Today, it’s about insurance rates expecting to spike over seventy-five percent in the next coming weeks. 

“We are receiving unconfirmed reports right now,” the newscaster says, “of seemingly random acts of violences and mass murder that have occurred in some major cities. We will continue to bring you live updates as this story unfolds.” 

“Jesus,” Bucky whispers. “Mass murder? How did we go from rabies to mass murder?” 

“People are scared,” Steve offers. “They might be panicking.”

“The violence I can understand. I mean, I’m fucking scared and we have a little more information.” A tremble flies up Steve’s spine. That’s the first time Bucky’s said anything about being scared. At least Steve’s not the only one. “But mass murder? People being violent because they’re scared and mass murder are two different things. Don’t you think?”  

Steve, taking a spoonful of soup and burning his tongue in the process, nods. He knows Bucky’s right, but despite his fear and worry, he’s still trying to stay positive. 

“It’s the media,” Steve says. “Maybe they’re exaggerating.” 

The look Bucky gives him, slightly amused but also doubtful, makes Steve smile. He knows that Bucky knows he’s just reaching for answers or excuses. 

“You’re adorable, Rogers,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I hope you know that.”

Steve chuckles. “Why?”

Head against Steve’s shoulder, Bucky uses his free hand to caress Steve’s thigh. 

“Because even during the apocalypse you look for the bright side.” Bucky hums softly. “I love you for that.”

“Well, I think that’s a compliment, so I’ll take it.” Steve grins softly. “And I love you, too.”

If anyone could make Steve smile during this, it’d be Bucky. At least they have each other. 

Week Three

The only time either Steve or Bucky sleep in their bed anymore is when they take quick naps during the day. When at least one of them is awake. Always ready to watch the news when the television comes back on the air. If it’s not, there’s just a Please Stand By screen. Sometimes colorbars and a high-pitched ringing. 

At night, they sleep on the couch together. When they can both sleep. Which is not that often.

Right now, Bucky is sleeping with his head in Steve’s lap. Steve has been dozing a little, but he can’t fall into a deep slumber. Not with Bucky out like a light. He deserves some sleep and Steve enjoys this little moment of peace when he can just run his hair over Bucky’s head and pretend like nothing else is happening in the world.

Steve’s actually nodding off a bit when Elizabeth Brandt is on the screen again. 

“Good evening,” she says, “for those of you who are just tuning in…” Steve wonders if she really needs to say that every time they come back on. He can’t imagine there’s anyone who isn’t at least paying a little attention. “We are going to try to remain on the air for the remainder of this crisis.”

Across the screen, as usual, are mini-stories scrolling by. Steve tries to follow along as they do.

A family of five has been found dead in Jacksonville, Florida. Police have described the victims as having been…”torn apart” by their attackers. 

“There have been wide-spread attacks,” Ms. Brandt continues, “all across the country, by what are being described “rabid people” in a “trance-like state”. 

Military forces have deployed to every major city to cope with the drastic increase in crime and violence. 

“Now, whatever this is, the phenomenon does not appear to be limited to the United States. We’re receiving reports of similar cases coming in from cities all around the world. We still have no specific answers as to why this is happening. Reports range from a germ or a virus with a mind altering effect or possibly some sort of chemical spill causing or a behavioral disorder causing mass hysteria.”

Over a dozen bodies have been found in what police are calling a ‘mass grave’ were found with severe ‘bite marks’ in various parts of the body.

“The president has issued a statement urging all people to stay in their homes and lock their doors until the situation is handled.”

The station reverts back to the stand-by screen and Steve’s stomach hurts. He’s somehow both too hot and too cold at the same time. He briefly considers waking Bucky to tell him these updates, but decides against it. 

“Sleep, my love,” he whispers. “We’ll deal with this in the morning.”

Bucky shifts a bit, his nose wiggling and fingers scratching at something on his cheek. 

Steve smiles and then checks his phone. All the unanswered messages. He hasn’t heard from Peggy or Rhodey in almost two weeks and what he did get was a few words at most. 

Reminders to be ready. 

To be alert.

Pay attention. 

Sighing, Steve puts the phone down and rests his head on the back of the couch, hoping to get a little rest.

Week Four

Steve jerks awake to a high-pitched ringing. Sun is streaming in through the bedroom windows, the curtains pushed open. It takes him a few moments to realize what the noise is and that he’s actually slept through the night. 

Steve flings the blankets away and hurries out of the bedroom to see Bucky seated at the very edge of the couch just staring at the television. There’s no one there. It’s just a message. A message from the Emergency Broadcast System. And it says nothing about this being just a test. 

We interrupt our program at the request of local authorities. This is the Emergency Broadcast System. All normal broadcasting has been discontinued during this emergency. This station will continue broadcasting, furnishing news, official information and instructions, as soon as possible for the Extended Operational area. 

As Steve approaches the couch, he notices that Bucky’s breaths are hitched. He’s chewing on his nails -- an old nervous habit of his -- and bouncing his knee. There’s a tear rolling down his cheek. 

When Steve slips a hand over Bucky’s shoulder, Bucky gasps and spins his way. He clearly tries to wipe those tears away before Steve cans them and fakes a smile.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“N-no. You didn’t. I just…” Bucky shakes his head and huffs a chuckle. “I just didn’t hear you.” 

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.” 

Steve nearly topples over at that. He had no idea how late it was. He hasn’t slept that much in weeks. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

Bucky offers a soft grin. This one, Steve believes, is genuine, and that gives him a sense of peace, however small. 

“Why don’t you ever wake me?” he asks. “Probably for the same reason.” 

Nodding, because Steve can’t really argue with that logic, he comes around to sit with Bucky. As soon as he sits, Bucky scoots a little closer. Steve takes his hand. Bucky squeezes. 

“What’s happened?” Steve asks. “Something new?”

“No. They went out about an hour ago.” He gestures to the television. “It’s been like that since.”

Both their cellphones are on the coffee table. Steve reaches for his but figures he already knows the answer to this one.

“They’re still out, too,” Bucky says as Steve clears his screen. They’ve been keeping them charged, of course. Just in case. But the cell service has been out since last week. “Internet, too.”

The no service icon on Steve’s phone still gives him chills. The last time he spoke to someone on it was two weeks ago. When Rhodey called to say that things are going downhill. 

That’s when Steve agreed to take out their weapons. While both he and Bucky agree that gun control needs to be better enforced, they’re still armed. A leftover effect from combat, maybe. The need to feel protected and able to protect each other. 

They don’t have a militia worth of weapons or anything. Just the standard, really. Things for survival. Dehydrated food. Bottled water. First Aid kits. Really, the two of them can survive for a few months completely off the grid. It’s just that…well, they don’t really want to. 

“Hey,” Steve whispers when Bucky starts staring at the television again. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” When Steve covers the top of Bucky’s hand with his, Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “I’m, uh…I’m starting to get really scared.” 

“I know.” Steve nods. “So am I.”

“I don’t fuckin’ like this, Steve. They fucking roll up in their armored cars and tanks and start patrolling the streets, claiming it’s for our safety, but they won’t tell us what’s wrong. No wonder people are pissed.” 

Pissed is actually a kind way of putting it. More like fucking infuriated. And, honestly, Steve can’t blame people. He’s not exactly overly thrilled that the government, here in this country and clearly in others around the world, are not telling them anything. 

Instead, they just send the freaking military into civilian areas and expect everyone to fall in line. 

In fact, when Steve lets himself think about it, he’s fucking infuriated as well. If not for having friends in high places, the two of them probably would have split from here a while ago. Possibly when this first started.

It’s too late for that, though. 

There’s no way they can get over the bridges to get to the mainland and it’s not as though mass transit is still running. Hell, there isn’t even any cell service or internet. There’s been rolling blackouts and the news keeps going out, but, they’re still expected to just sit in their homes and wait to be told it’s all clear. 

Steve has no idea how the fuck they’re expected to trust in…shit, he’s not even sure who anymore. 

Week Five

“Widespread panic continues across the country.” Elizabeth Brandt no longer wears make-up. Her hair isn’t done. Every now and then there’s a tremble in her voice. “Many communities are without telephone. Most without power. Some without water.”

Steve wrings his hands together. They still have some power left but it comes in and out. Right now, the only light they have is that of the T.V. Nighttime, they’ve been instructed to keep the lights off and the shades drawn. They haven’t had any way to contact anyone for over a week now. Water went off yesterday. 

“Scientists at the CDC have released the following statement,” she says. “This virus is passed through bodily fluid such as blood and saliva. It is most often passed through bites but can be contracted if contaminated blood is absorbed into the body.”

“What the hell?” Bucky breathes, leaning forward and resting his arms over his knees. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Hand on Bucky’s back, Steve rubs it in soft circles trying to offer whatever comfort he can. Hard, that, when he’s just as confused and concerned and afraid.

“The infected exhibit rabid-like symptoms within five to thirty minutes of infection including skin inflammation, flu-like symptoms such a headache, violent coughing, and sore throats, and nausea and vomiting. At two hours, mild paralysis sets in leading to locking of the joints but does not lead to immobility. Finally, severe confusion and aggression.”  Ms. Brandt pauses before she continues. “We have some…some footage here of some people who have contracted the virus but we must advise you this may be difficult to watch.”

On the screen now is video footage clearly taken on a cellphone. Somewhere in Europe, Steve thinks, based on the license plates. When they hear people start talking, rushed and panicked, Bucky murmurs that they’re speaking Romanian. 

A moment later, screaming. Running. Gunshots. Sheer chaos and pandemonium. Only Steve can’t see what they’re running from. The phone’s camera is shaking violently as its owner runs.

Until a person next to them tumbles and falls to the ground. Whoever’s filming stops to try to help and drops the phone in the process. But the camera is still rolling. 

And within seconds, someone…or something comes into view. 

A man, or at least what used to be a man. His head is bent nearly all the way to the left and his jaw is clearly broken. He’s dragging his right leg but that doesn’t seem to impede his speed. His right arm is twisted and locked against the side of his body. There’s blood everywhere. Around his mouth. Dripping from his eyes and nose and ears. He lunges for one of the two people there. They both scream.

The video ends there.

When the screen goes back to Elizabeth Brandt, she’s staring blankly. Not at the camera. Just staring out at nothing. Trembling. Until someone off-camera clears their throat. 

Her gaze slowly lifts and focuses back on the camera facing her. She sucks in a deep breath and nods.

“The military is mobilizing,” she murmurs, very quiet. Little emotion other than the fear that’s permeating through this living room, “in an attempt to evacuate all major cities.” Ms. Brandt’s breath staggers. “We’re providing a list of rescue stations.” Scrolling on the bottom of the screen. “Please, make your way to the rescue station closest to you. If you are watching this broadcast at this time, please, get to a rescue station immediately.”

The screen starts cutting in and out, and Ms. Brandt is still speaking when it cuts off completely and goes dead. Colorbars with a high-pitched ringing is all that’s left.

“Steve…” Bucky whispers. “Did you…did you…this can’t be happening.”

All Steve can think about is Rhodey’s first call to him. 

They’ll try to evacuate the cities, he’d said. When that happens, don’t wait. Go.  

“We have to go.” 

Steve is already on his feet. First thing he does is grab two of their handguns. Both loaded. The only time Steve’s ever considered bringing a gun outside is when they go to the gun range and they’re always stored in locked cases. 

“Where are we going, Steve?” Bucky asks. “It cut out before the list even reached Brooklyn.” 

“I don’t care,” Steve replies, shoving one of the guns into Bucky’s hands. “But we need to get out of here. We’ll figure it out.” 

Bucky doesn’t question any more than that. Seems he’s already caught up with Steve’s thinking and wants to get the fuck out of there as much as he does. Even more so when they hear gunshots from not all that far away. 

They both freeze on the way to the door and stare at each other for a second. They’re leaving everything behind, Steve knows that. The bags they packed a few weeks ago are useless now. 

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve says and pulls him in for a kiss. “We’re gonna get through this.” 

Strange and horrifying as all this is, Bucky still manages a smile and grabs Steve’s hand. Tight. Unwilling to let go.

“I know.” He nods and adds his own kiss. “I love you, too.”

Steve takes one last, long look at Bucky before he wretches open the door and they dash outside. 

It’s already chaotic. People are doing the same as them. Running. With no sense of direction, they just fucking run. Steve runs with Bucky’s hand still tucked securely in his. 

The military there is trying to give out instructions. No one’s listening, of course, and even if Steve wanted to, he can’t understand them anyway. 

There are people everywhere. Parents carrying children. Lovers clinging to each other. Friends desperate to help each other. Some people trip and fall, and Steve and Bucky do what they can to help them back to their feet. Others aren’t so lucky and are trampled. 

Horns are blasting and metal twists around metal and glass shatters. There’re fires. More gunshots. Looting. 

They’ve only gone a few blocks when the screaming changes. The panic shifts to outright horror and fear. One glance over his shoulder confirms Steve’s worst fears.

They’re being chased by the infected. Several of them. Lots of them. So many… 

“Where the fuck did they come from?!” Bucky shouts as he pulls out his gun. “They’re everywhere.” 

Behind them, there’s snarling and growling. Squelching sounds and crunching bones. 

Steve is suddenly very aware of the sound of his own breathing. It’s all he can hear over the screams and cries for help. His heart is pounding like it’s never done. 

This is all wrong. 

Nothing makes sense.

These people need his help and he’s just running. That’s not what he does. That’s not what either of them do. But Steve doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know how to help these people. To save them. All he can do is run until his legs feel like jelly and his chest hurts and his head is spinning. 

They get a bit of luck when they have a chance to duck into an alleyway that’s not far from a school. The list that had the rescue spots listed a lot of schools and churches in the other boros. Can’t be too different for them. 

When they reach the end of the alley, there’s a fence that they need to climb over. A few people, not infected from what Steve can tell, have followed. Them, Steve helps as best he can by assisting them up and over the fence. 

Bucky, already on the other side of the fence, helps them over and down. Some of these people seem to know each other. Possibly a family. Three children. Four adults. 

They say something about trying to get to the rendezvous point. That they’re evacuating people in trucks and buses and vans not that far from here. 

One of the adults climbs over the fence and runs without waiting for anyone else. Steve hopes that means they’re not associated with the rest of them. Another climbs over and waits as Steve and the other two help the three children. 

They’ve just made it over, Bucky helping the last one and handing her off to the person next to him, when his eyes go wide.

“Steve…” He’s gone very rigid, staring at something behind Steve. “Hurry.”

Steve glances over his shoulder. Sees what Bucky does. Three people. Growling. Drooling. Their bodies all contorted, and bones cracking when they take a few steps in Steve’s direction. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathes and then whirls back to the last person on this side of the fence with him. He grabs him and shoves him at the fence. “Go! Go, now! Hurry!” 

“Steve!” Bucky yells. “Steve, hurry! Come on, please!”

In his rush, Steve slips a time or two as he clambers to the top of the fence. The entire thing shakes and trembles. The young man next to him nearly loses his grip and falls. Steve grabs him by the wrist and keeps a hand on his back to help him.

“God damn it, Steve!” Bucky shouts. “Come on! You need to run!”

They’re at the fence now. Grabbing at Steve and his companions legs. Tearing at their clothes. Trying to pull them back down. 

When Steve makes it to the top, he swings one leg over, and just as he goes to bring the other, a sharp, unimaginable pain radiates at his ankle and shoots up his entire leg. He screams as he jerks his knee up and grabs his ankle. 

The pain is so agonizing that Steve lets go of the fence and falls the rest of the way, landing with a hard thud on the concrete. Something might break, he isn’t sure. It’s the pain in his ankle that has his attention. 

“Steve!” Bucky is at his side the second he hits the ground. “Steve, what happened? Are you all right? Can you get--oh fuck.”

Steve snaps his gaze back to the fence. Where the infected are climbing up it. To make matters worse, there are three coming into this side of the alley on the other end.

“Bucky…” Steve pants and coughs. His ankle throbs and that fall knocked the wind out of him. “Get the…the kids…” 

They’re all trapped. If they’re going to get the rest of these people out of here, Steve knows what needs to be done. He and Bucky need to separate. 

Gun at the ready, Bucky nods and shoots back up to his feet, stepping in front of the group of people with his weapon aimed. Steve reaches into his holster and pulls out his own gun. 

They start shooting. 

Steve knows he hits them. One in the arm. One in the leg. One in the chest. But they keep coming. He fires again. Foot. Shoulder. Back. And they still keep coming. 

“The heads!” Bucky suddenly yells. “Steve, go for their heads!” 

Vision blurry and ears ringing, Steve takes several shots before finally getting one in the head. He manages to get another but the third, right before she’d lunge at Steve, is taken down by Bucky. She falls in a heap right next to Steve. 

Once again, Bucky drops by his side. At the same time, he’s waving at the rest of the people there to run. They do, but not before thanking them. 

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky says. “You gotta get up.” 

That fall did a lot more to him than Steve realized. It shouldn’t be all that surprising. He just fell at least ten feet. His head hurting isn’t very shocking. The sore throat is a little unusual, but Steve figures that’s from all the screaming. 

Still, he’s so dazed and disoriented, that when Bucky once again tries to pull him back to his feet, he tries to push him off.

“Just go,” Steve grunts, “get outta here.”

“No,” Bucky growls between his teeth. “Not without you. Now c’mon, Steve. Get. The fuck. Up. Now.” 

If they weren’t in the middle of a zombie-like apocalypse, Steve would laugh. That tone, it’s not one to be reckoned with. 

Steve nods and accepts Bucky’s help as he brings him back to his feet. The strain makes Steve grunt and he teeters a bit off balance. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks. “You with me?”

“Always.”

Even in the midst of a waking, walking nightmare, Bucky scoffs a laugh and, fuck, that smile is worth walking through fire for. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Rogers.”

Steve is limping a bit, but after just half a block, he’s able to at least sprint without needing to lean all of his weight against Bucky. 

The coughing starts a few minutes later. Uncontrollable fits that have Steve doubled over. His head hurts so bad that he almost wants to bash it against a wall. 

That fucking fall. He’s taken hits worse than that, he’s sure of it, yet one tiny fall off a tall fence has him ready to keel over. He can’t, though. He needs to suck it up and keep running to get Bucky out of here. 

“Steve?” Bucky asks when Steve is bent over coughing again. “Baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods and tries to straighten again. “I think…I think I broke a rib or something.” 

“Okay. Okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Bucky assures him. “We’re not far now. When we get there, they’ll help you.”

Spitting some blood from his mouth, Steve wipes his arm across his and clears his throat, wincing from the pain of it. He exhales sharply and then lets Bucky wrap his arm around his waist to assist him again. 

Only this time, when Steve takes a step with his right foot, white light flashes in front of his eyes and he shrieks as his weight falls out from under him.

“Steve!” Bucky goes down with him. “What is it? What happened?”

Steve shivers from head to toe. It’s too hot out. He has no idea when it got so freaking hot out. It’s only April for god’s sake. 

“Stevie…” 

Steve can just make out Bucky’s voice through clogged ears. Then it disappears altogether and all Steve can see is Bucky’s lips moving. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, but Steve can venture a guess. So he nods, assuming Bucky’s asking if he’s all right, and lets Bucky help him back up. 

“Come on, baby, we’re almost there.”

Bucky’s right. 

They’re not far. 

Just another two blocks sees them at the blockade. There are swarms of people being ushered in a few groups at a time. 

As Bucky leads Steve there so they can wait their turn, Steve takes a glimpse down at his ankle. It’s covered in blood. He knows it’s his. It’s seeped into his jeans and down into his sock. That's why, he realizes, his foot squishes every time he walks. That’s why it hurts when he walks. That’s why… 

Eyes filling with tears, Steve coughs again, his breaths shuddering. Bucky readjusts his grip on him. Helps him as best he can because that’s what they do. They help each other. They save each other. They love each other. 

Steve just watches him now. His Bucky. His best friend. The man he’s loved since they were a couple of punk kids running around the streets of Brooklyn. Life had taken them in different directions after middle school but they still found their way back to each other. 

“What?” Bucky asks when he notices Steve staring at him. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit?”

“No.” A sense of peace and calm washes over Steve. “I just love you.” 

The corners of Bucky’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Hard to smile with all this, but it’s almost there. 

“I love you, too, Steve.” 

Steve coughs more. His throat is on fire. His stomach turns, nausea creeping through. 

When they finally reach the entrance through the barricade, Steve hands Bucky his gun just as he walks through. 

“Steve, what’re you doing?”

“Take it,” Steve whispers. “You’ll need all the protection you can get.”

“I have my own,” Bucky says. “You need it.”

Steve shakes his head and ignores the officers trying to move them along. 

“Just take it. And go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! Come on, Steve! Don’t fuck around!”

Those tears almost get the better of Steve, but he manages to hold them back. For now. 

He looks down at his ankle and lifts up the bottom of his jeans. Shows Bucky what Steve already knows is there. 

A bite.

A big chunk of his skin all red and black and blue and swollen. 

It pulses. Throbs. It’s almost unbearable.

“No…” Bucky whimpers. “No, no, no. We can…you’re gonna be fine. You…”

“Go, Bucky.”

“No! No, I’m not leaving you!” Abruptly frantic, like he can’t figure out what’s happening or what to do, Bucky starts to shake all over. “No. No, I’m staying. I’m staying with you. I’m not leaving you!”

The tears finally break through, mirroring those rolling down Bucky’s cheeks. But Steve won’t give in. He won’t be selfish. He’ll save Bucky. Even if that means taking himself out of the picture. 

“I’m bitten,” Steve says to the soldiers there. “Take him out of here.”  

They don’t wait.

Steve’s actually surprised he and Bucky got this last bit of time together. That doesn’t stop Bucky from screaming. From struggling with all his might against the soldiers dragging him away. 

“No! No, Steve! Steve, please! God, no! No, this can’t…you can’t leave me! You can’t!”

Bucky’s reaching over the soldiers. Trying desperately to get back to Steve. Even for just one last touch. 

And Steve is selfish enough for that.

He reaches once.

Their fingers graze.

Stomach lurching just as they load Bucky in the back of a military truck and it drives away, taking Steve’s whole life with it, Steve claps a hand over his mouth and pushes out of the crowd. Right at the fringe of it, he leans over to be ill. 

Steve doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him now, but he does know that he’s going to be a danger to all these people soon. No matter how much it hurts -- and it does, inside and out, like a red-hot poker shoved between his ribs -- he pushes onward. Gets himself out of there. As far away as possible before his legs give out from under him and he collapses in a gutter not far from where he and Bucky met. 

Week ???

The sun beats down on the empty city streets. Sizzles and burns Steve’s skin. He knows it is happening. Feels it happening. Can do nothing about it. 

He cannot remember how. 

Sometimes, he cannot even remember his own name. He knows he has one. Or did have one. It is not that important. 

The ankle that was bit still throbs. It always does. Now, that foot is all twisted. He can’t really bend his right knee and his right arm is clenched to his chest. He has been unable to move it for the longest time. 

Sometimes Steve sees people. Real people. The way he used to be. If they see him, they scream and run. If they have weapons, they try to kill him. 

He wants to tell them that he does not want to hurt them. And that much is true. Steve doesn’t want to hurt them. But he will. He can’t stop it. The guilt is overwhelming, the screams of the people he has hunted down echoing through his ears. 

He is just so very hungry. Always hungry. Or maybe he is thirsty. His tongue and mouth and throat are on fire. The taste of iron has not left his mouth since the first meal he had. 

The only other thing he wants to do is sleep. Nothing ever stops, though. Steve can’t sleep. All he ever does is wander. 

There is a building he passes from time to time that feels right. Familiar. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a word for it. It sits at the tip of his tongue. Not that it matters. He cannot speak anything more than grunts and moans and growls. 

That’s because of the pain. So much pain that ravages through his entire body, day and night. 

Steve can’t stop crying. It is different now. He doesn’t think he is doing it right, but he still cries. Wordless and soundless. 

Maybe he has lost something. It feels like that. Very much so. Like he is looking for someone. Someone that left him here. Right? Or…no, that is not right. The others did. They left Steve and the rest of the Wanders to rot. 

Things do not make sense so much anymore. They haven’t in a long time. 

He hates them. Steve doesn’t know who but he does and he wants to hurt them until they feel as much pain as he does. If he gets the chance he’ll bite into their flesh and tear into through skin and gnaw down to their bones just to hear their screams.  

No.

No, no, no, no, no…no.

Why does he want that?

Steve can’t remember. 

If he finds them…them…him…then maybe it will be better. The pain won’t go away but that smile. Yes, that smile. 

Bucky.

The name pulses through him and for one single second, Steve’s existence makes sense again. That second passes quickly. 

Something is behind him. Steve can hear it. Smell it. Fresh meat. Warm. Alive. 

Head stuck tilted to the right, Steve turns, his bones creaking and cracking along with the movements. The living. Three of them. From the smell of them, two males and one female. 

Steve is hungry. It does not matter that they carry weapons, Steve will try to get food. He opens his mouth. Jaw popping, drool leaking over his teeth. Steve hisses. Tries to warn them. Threaten them. Demand they do not move so he can have his meal. 

“I hate it when they make that noise,” one of the males says. “Fucking creepy.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Sam,” the female answers, “you’re not losing your nerve, are you?” 

Steve runs toward them now. If they do not shoot him first and set him free, he will catch them and he will eat them and for just a few moments he will not be hungry. 

“No, Nat, not losing my nerve,” Sam says. “Doesn’t stop that noise from being any less creepy.” 

“Yeah.” Nat nods. “I’ll give you that.”

“Stark, what’re you waiting for?” Sam asks the second male. “You wanna be his happy meal?”

“Not today,” Stark replies and Steve is only a few steps away when he raises his weapon and it discharges. 

Hits him in the chest. Steve does not stop. A puny weapon as that will not come between him and his food. Except when a new pain spreads from that spot and sparks throughout his entire body, Steve drops to his knees and gasps for air. 

They have hurt him more. More pain. 

So much more pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

“All right,” Stark says when Steve falls forward, unable to move. “Tag ‘im and bag ‘im.”

Nat crouches down in front of Steve and turns his head so that he’s facing her. She lifts his eyelid up and clicks her tongue. 

“You’re right, Stark,” she says. “He’s one of the firsts.”

Sam comes close. Take a good look as well. Must agree because he nods but why will they not kill Steve? It will be better for them…for him… 

“Eyes are totally bloodshot,” Sam says. “Poor guy.”

“Well, let’s get ‘im back to the lab,” Stark tells them. “Bruce and Helen will wanna have a look.” 

A lab.

Steve cannot remember this word but it makes his insides feel wrong. Afraid. Maybe that is it. 

***

Steve feels quite weightless. 

Floaty.

No, not floaty. Actually floating. 

Perhaps that means he’s finally died. If that’s that case, he’s not sure if he’d feel this good. After everything he’s done as a Wanderer, he deserves damnation, not salvation. 

There should be no reward. No easing of his pain. And this dull ache in the back of his head, the heat in his throat, and the aches in his body is the most relief he’s had since…well, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

Although, if by some miracle, he’s been let into an eternal paradise, maybe that means he’ll reunite with Bucky someday. 

Oh. 

Oh, his Bucky.

A tremble flies up his spine. 

The last time Steve saw Bucky, he was crying and scared and screaming for him. He could still feel the spot where their fingers last touched. 

But it was the right thing to do, it was. If Bucky had stayed with him, he’d’ve died. All this guilt topped with the idea of taking Bucky’s life as well? No, Steve couldn’t handle that. 

It occurs to Steve then that he hasn’t fully been able to recall Bucky in quite some time. Now, he’s all Steve can think about. 

The pain in his ankle feels so much better. 

His head isn’t tilted. 

His arm isn’t pinned against his chest. 

Steve finally gains enough coherency to open his eyes. When he does, he gasps and thrashes about. 

He’s submerged in water. In a vertical tube. There are wires hooked to his naked body and tubes in his mouth and nose. Steve bangs on the glass. He can breathe and he can hear but he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on and he needs to get out of this thing.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s okay!” 

Someone’s voice comes through the thick water and Steve turns that way. He doesn’t know this person but he recognizes him. The man who shot him. With someone. Not a bullet. 

Now that Steve’s thinking a bit clearer, he thinks it may have been some type of taser. 

“My name is Tony,” he says, pushing closer to Steve on a wheelie chair. “Tony Stark. You’re gonna be okay now.”

Too busy trying to figure out what’s happening and how he got here, Steve looks around at all he can see. It’s a lab, just like they said. They must’ve brought him back here. Brought him…back.

“I know, you’re probably confused, that’s normal,” Tony explains. “The process is a bit disorienting. Is this getting through? Can you nod or something, big guy?”

Tony, Steve realizes, is asking him a question. He’s actually talking to him. Not running and screaming, but talking. Steve can’t talk with the tubs in his mouth so he nods. 

“Good, good. Here, I’m gonna pull up a virtual keyboard.” Whatever he does out there makes letters appear on the glass in front of Steve. “Can you type your name in?” 

Steve might be achy but he’d also be fucking thrilled to do this. He lifts the arm he hasn’t controlled in so long and types his name.

S-T-E-V-E 

R-O-G-E-R-S

When Steve sees his name displayed on the screen, he smiles. For so long, he couldn’t even be sure if that’s who he was and now he knows. He’s him. He’s Steve Rogers. 

But Tony just blinks at the name a few times. His mouth opens not once, but twice before he finally answers. 

“Steve Rogers?” He says that as if he’s familiar with it. “You…do you know a Bucky Barnes?”

Eyes going wide, Steve would gasp if he wasn’t breathing through a tube and underwater. This guy knows Bucky. He’ll be able to tell Steve if he’s okay. If he’s near. If he’s safe. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” Tony mumbles. “Well…shit. He was right. You were too stubborn to die.” He snickers before pushing back over to the lab table he’d been at before Steve started banging on the tube. He picks up the phone and only dials one digit. “Hey, I need you two to bring Barnes down.”

Bring him down. That means Bucky’s here. Oh, god, please, please let this be real. 

“Uh…let’s just say he’s been right this whole time,” Tony says. “He always said he was still out there.” 

Tony continues with a brief conversation with whoever’s on the phone but Steve doesn’t pay any attention. All he cares about is the fact that Bucky is here. Bucky’s here and they’re bringing him to see Steve. 

While he waits, Tony explains a bit of what’s happened and why Steve is in this thing. It’s a bit hard to follow along; not everything is entirely clear yet and Steve’s mind is still a little fuzzy. 

Apparently, the weightless environment helps the Wanderers’ limbs to unlock. That, combined with the antibodies speeds up the recovery process. The recovery process that Bucky’s been helping with.

According to Tony, Bucky’s part of some vigilante group. A group that rallied together to go out and look for survivors. Killing Wanderers when they needed. When they could.

“It was your man who thought he saw something in one of them one day,” Tony says. “Saw…what could be. And instead of killing…”  

They started bringing Wanderers back to the lab. To their base of operations. Found something of a cure. 

“You’ll probably have to stay in there for another forty-eight hours or so and then go through a ton of physical therapy, but, based on our other subjects, you should make a--”

The door swings open, and without even pausing to check the room, Bucky comes running in and right up to the tube where Steve is. 

“Steve!” There’re tears streaming down his face. “Oh, god, baby, I knew it. I knew you’d be alive. I did. I told you. I told you, you’d be okay. Oh, fuck, baby, I miss you so much. I love you. I love you, Steve.”

Steve still isn’t entirely sure if this is really happening. It feels real. Maybe not what he deserves but…if he’s allowed a few moments of peace, he’ll gladly accept it. 

If it is real, well, they did it again. Somehow, against all odds, they found their way back to each other. 

He smiles around the tubes in his mouth and traces a heart along the glass. Still crying, Bucky lets loose a wet laugh and traces a heart over it. 

It’s the last thing Steve sees before his eyes close again.

He’s tired. 

He’d very much like to sleep. 

And maybe dream. 

[grayintogreen]

So we’re in the endgame now and I’ve been thinking a lot about Lucien’s inevitable fate. Now I LOVE the guy, nasty boi that he is. He’s fun. He’s an asshole. He’s exactly like Molly, except that he has nine sugar daddies in his head convincing him to use all of that flimflam he excels at to be a fucking nightmare cult leader bastard.

(Sidebar: is this why Molly’s charisma was lower than it should be? Because he didn’t use Lucien’s charisma the way Lucien did? Fascinating.)

BUT therein lies the dilemma. Bitch gotta die. That’s a non-starter. I’m pretty sure Caduceus’s point about the Nonagon being Lucien’s rabies is accurate and that removing that from the equation might level his dumb ass out, but when it comes down to it, will they resurrect him and try to get Molly back?

Personally, I think Caduceus is gonna be the one, as the least volatile about it, to make the suggestion- he seems like he was pretty keen on the idea, even if he’s also like “hey I have no personal attachment to that body and you’re literally a thing of my nightmares so if I have to personally end you I will.” It’ll be up to the rest of the party if they want to chance it- and only if it meant Lucien would come back without the nine eyes, because at that point, he’s not really a threat and they can find out how much of the corruption was in those rather than Lucien.

Again, “big if.” I don’t know if bringing Molly back is even a priority anymore. Saving the world is. When the dust settles, it might be a conversation, and only if there’s NO ONE ELSE to bring back or if there’s even a body and Lucien doesn’t get devoured by the Somnovem as is probably at least 50% likely.

But let’s assume that happens. Let’s assume they all agree. 

Molly was a sliver that existed as a piece of the whole left behind when Vess did her soul crush. Whether we believe that Molly’s sliver died and Lucien is just existing without it or he’s been lying full tilt about it and THAT’S why he can’t fucking let go of the M9 and seems to be fucking obsessed with them, despite seeming to have no actual use for them is a non-issue. If Lucien dies and they bring back Molly, I don’t think they’re just gonna get that one sliver. They’re gonna get Lucien as a whole back, because Molly and Lucien are the SAME PERSON. They’re just different versions of the same person. You can tell that Matt built Lucien that way- he took Taliesin’s concept for Molly and built a backstory into it and a horrible nightmare cultist vibe. If Lucien and Molly weren’t clearly meant to be the same person (Molly is just Lucien with his baggage removed and a better environment to grow and flourish in), then Lucien wouldn’t be ANYTHING like Molly. There would be zero overlap at all.

So if they bring Molly back, they’re going to get Lucien too, probably a little fusion dance of the pair, like I’ve mentioned before. I have a lot of ideas about how the Somnovem arc is gonna play out and at least one of them is that the Somnovem are gonna betray Lucien once he’s no longer any use to them. He’s clearly a pawn high off his own power. The Somnovem are nine Trent Ikithons gone mad and they just want stooges to mold and shape the way they want to get where they need to be.

I’m babbling, but basically I think bringing Molly back without considering that Lucien is a whole-ass person (the SAME person in many ways) too, who has been corrupted and twisted and become this monstrosity is doing a little bit of disservice to both Molly and Lucien. I think they need to be whole again and figure out who they are now that they’re no longer bound to the Somnovem, and I think that makes for an interesting story, alongside the nature vs nurture concept that Matt has already set up. Also with Essek, it brings the party to nine, and if the purple redemption boys get to hang out when they’re not with the party proper, I fuck with that.

Also, like, I’m 100% sure that even if they bring Molly back as a level 14 Blood Hunter, Taliesin is gonna be like “yeah I’m definitely not gonna play him as a PC again and deal with all THAT baggage when I could play Caduceus trying to rehabilitate his stupid ass.”

I could be wrong about that! Cad’s arc could end here, since this was his goal all along, but I don’t feel like it’s going to when there’s still Caleb and Fjord storylines to wrap up. And also Tharizdun out there... being awful. Somewhere.

This, of course, all depends on if they bring Lucien/Molly/Mollucien back to begin with, which MIGHT NOT HAPPEN, but if it did, this is the storyline that works for me, personally. I’d be cool with whatever they did! Obviously. It’s their game, Dave. But god I just want the delicious un-fucking of Lucien’s cult bullshit to bring about a better version of himself due to Molly’s influence. It’s a delicious way to end that arc. Mwah.

[greengrass-grows-all-around]

—— isn’t that rabia greengrass? yeah that is them, sitting there at the hufflepuff table with those other sixth years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees glass slippers, abandoned at midnight; proving a point if it’s the last thing you do; being able to accept help, even when you can’t ask for it; the scent of candles and bubblebath; a window dying to be used as a door; an adaptable spirit hard at work; and the foolhardiness of falling head over heels over and over again, even though it only ever ends in heartbreak;  which seems about right for that nineteen year old. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty wary, an escapist, and smarter than she looks (or pretends). apparently they’re neutral (for now) and pureblood but i’m sure that’s not related… —— playlist || pinterest  

death mention tw

THE INSPIRATIONS

lydia bennet - pride & prejudice; margo - paper towns; mary-ann (goodbye earl) - the chicks

                                                            ––––––––––––––

→ NAME: rabia ceylan nimet greengrass → NICKNAMES: rab (and she LIKES it, specifically because rabastan and regulus both turn around anyways); rabi, rabid (thanks, emira); cey   → AGE / D.O.B.: 19 / 12 April 1958 → SPECIES: pureblood witch → GENDER / PRONOUNS: cisfemale / she&her → SEXUALITY: bisexual (has recently sworn off men for the thousandth time, but things change)

FAMILY → PARENTS: azra greengrass is the only parent rab acknowledges, currently → SIBLINGS: brother: burak sisters: zehra, azra, emira → COUSINS: ? → PETS: she has a pet rat, named Louis (she found him 3 years ago)

LIFESTYLE → BORN: france → RAISED: france; the streets (I couldn’t stop her) → CURRENT RESIDENCE: london - with azra ; hogwarts castle → NATIONALITY: turkish; french → SPOKEN LANGUAGES: english, french, half decent spanglish → OCCUPATION: Hogwarts’ Biggest Flight Risk™; student;  → DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: she’s laughing, give her a minute → RELIGION: god is a dj, life is a dance floor

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES → FACE CLAIM: bahar sahin → ETHNICITY: turkish → HEIGHT: 5ft. 4 in. → WEIGHT: 105 lbs → BUILD: small and skinny, always looks like she needs a cheeseburger → HAIR: long, brown; sometimes she makes it look nice, sometimes she doesn’t → EYE COLOR: green → DOMINANT HAND: left → SCENT: cigarette smoke and whatever soap azra has been buying, she hasn’t decided who she wants to be next yet, it’s still in the works → NERVOUS HABITS: she straight up just leaves, now, when she’s uncomfortable; but, for the people she’s close to, and her family, anyone who can keep her in place, she has a tendency to either over/undershare, change the subject so thoroughly your head spins (repeatedly), and tends to to tell the truth halves to test the waters

CHARACTER → MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral good → MBTI: isfp → WESTERN ZODIAC: aries → SONG: runaway - bon jovi / edge of seventeen - stevie nicks

MAGIC → WAND: black walnut, fairy wings & demiguise hair; 9 5/8 inches → PATRONUS: crow → BOGGART:  she’s not ready to talk about it; it isn’t pretty

BIO

rabia used to be the pretty, spoiled, third and (incredibly) overlooked daughter. 

not the baby, not even the direct center, rabia felt invisible most of her life

and that was not exactly helped by the fact she and her siblings were raised by nannies

and she ... oh my god, that girl is hard to keep track of

she wanders off CONSTANTLY - always has, ever since she learned to walk

she likes to be by herself, though she doesn’t mind company; she just prefers to be out wherever the problems and the people arent (exceptions withstanding, of course)

she’s reckless when it comes to giving away her heart. convinced no one and everyone wants and should have it

but no heart ever breaks the same way twice, so she still wouldn’y call herself an expert on the matter although she’s made excellent strides in the commitment arena

it wasn’t her fault he left, it was his. okay, she kicked him out and that screwed her over, but he screwed her over first, and then he had to go and ... stop existing involuntarily

but that was last year, let’s back up

rabia was not under some misguided impression that her parents cared for her - she knew they didn’t. the role of she and her sisters and her brother was to make them look good. no more, no less

they didn’t care what she did, where she did it, who she did it with, or even to

and rabia really enjoyed testing the limits of this, even if she couldn’t admit how disappointing it was to realize, truly, that no one gave a single shit what you did, or even if you were alright.

and at beauxbatons, at the end of her 5th year, she couldn’t wait for the freedom graduation was going t bring her.

the freedom to move on – with her life, with everything.

but freedom came calling sooner than anyone expected

she was only fifteen when he asked her to run away with him, he was 17 already, he’d just graduated - was anyone going to miss her right away?

no, she’d said

and she’d been right - four four years, no one came for her

but rabia and her love, the boy worth leaving her family for, were over before the first year was out, but at the time their circle was still small, and the end was messy.

of course, in the time it took to kick him out of the flat, they’d lost the flat, so they went their separate ways, and rabia started continent hopping

she WAS starting to run low on funding, though, and from there on out the next three years was a life altering, swim or drown, course on grinding, coasting, and keeping yourself off the radar, while enjoying the freedom of having no ties

last year, they ran into each other, in mexico, no less

and it was almost okay

until it wasn’t

but a jail cell, in tijuana, was not high on rabia’s list of places to see

 it was his fault, and she just happened to be there, but he’d been in mexico longer than he’d said he’d been, and she’s still not sure she wants the full story of what happened that night

not the parts she witnessed, or the parts she missed

so she did what she did best – she went to the beach

then she went to spain, because spain is better than mexico

then she started feeling homesick

but she hadn’t been back in france a week before they’d found her; 

a day, honestly, because she went to london to visit a friend, and by that very same afternoon she was sitting on her sister’s sofa 

it’s been ..... weird.

rabia never was much for rules, especially not as invisible as she was before, and she’d been on her own for quite some time, so she’s still frequently in trouble

but it’s nice to have someone who ccares enough to be mad at her for not coming home on time

and it’s nice to be with emira again, too, even if she does have to go back to school

she still regularly sneaks out and has not learned the definition of grounded yet

but she and louis – who she found near versailles, by the way, and claims is descended from royalty – have been just fine on their own, so they are looking forward to trying out “normal” again

whatever that means

for a greengrass

[oliveheart-worldbuilding]

Aster, Bee Balm, Daffodil, Dahlia, Laurel, Petunia, Rose, and Violet? I'd also add Gardenia but it's impossible to escape murder cats.

Hi there! Thank you so much for the ask! Once again, I’m sorry for taking so long to answer!

Adding a read more because this one is pretty long.

Aster- Who’s your least favorite character? Why?

This one is a bit difficult for me, I read many of the books a long time ago and I’m sure if I were to read them again my opinion on a lot of characters would be very different. Going only by memory I would say that Bluestar is one of my least favorite characters but then I would have to add many female characters that I now feel were completely mistreated by the authors and whose entire arcs where thrown under the bus in the name of forbidden love or man pain. I never liked Silverstream, but nowadays I know that whom I actually hate is Graystripe. I used to not like Leafpool or Squirrelflight at all, now I don’t. What I’m trying to say is that my opinion changes constantly and a lot. I read the books a long time ago and did so with a completely different mindset (I was 16 when I read Omen of the Stars and oh man was I edgy and stupid back then), most of my opinions nowadays are based on the potential the characters have rather than the actual character. So bearing that in mind:

-Bluestar: I know, I know, a lot of you love her a lot but even after reading people’s opinions on her I just… eh I don’t like her at all. She feels incredibly detached in the first books. To me she always treated Firepaw rather coldly. I know a lot of people talk about Bluestar as if she had become Firepaw’s adoptive mother but I just don’t see it. Reading about her losing her faith was very interesting, so was her crumping mind health but, I just gotta draw the line on how terrible she was to Brightpaw. In this house we love and respect Brightpaw and Bluestar was just very nasty to her. I really didn’t like her novella at all either. Based on her relationship with Whitestorm in The Prophecies Begin I always thought that she might have played an important role in his life after Snowfur died but, it doesn’t seem that way at all? The only moment we see them interact is when she tells Whitekit, in a very distressing way may I add, that her mother is dead and never coming back. To me, she also comes in as selfish and power-hungry, she spends a huge part of the book complaining about Thistleclaw (bear in mind, back then he was only overly ambitious, not a pedophile) and his relationship with her sister, even though she herself is spending time with Oakheart, a tom from another clan. When Goosefeather tells her about the prophecy he never specifies that she must be the one becoming leader, only that Thistleclaw is not meant to become one and yet she goes out of her way to become the leader so much so that she’s willing to risk her kittens’ safety (killing one in the process) just so she can be available for the position. She could have just uuuuhmmmm told Sunstar about the prophecy? Also I’m pretty sure Sunstar assures her that Thistleclaw would not have made a good leader multiple times so… he could have chosen literally anyone else? Rosetail? Thrustpelt? Don’t get me started on the whole Tigerkit dilemma! She chooses to believe Goosefeather prophecies when they strengthen her own personal bias but when she’s told about Tigerkit’s she just goes “aw man Goosefeather sure is crazy hahaha anyway back on me becoming leader”. I don’t know, there’s more to it but this is getting pretty long. Personally she’s just not my favorite.

-Graystripe: He’s a terrible friend, he treats Fireheart like absolute garbage, he chooses a molly he has known for exactly 2 days over his best friend and his entire clan, he leaves Thunderclan to spend more time with his kittens just to abandon them 5 seconds later, and yet the son of a bitch was somehow always meant to become deputy to Firestar??? Just because they are friends??? Dude went against the warrior code, endangered his clan by refusing to fight Riverclan, was incredible close to causing an all-out war with Riverclan, abandoned his clan, refused to see what was wrong about his behavior just because he was in love… How in the f is he a good warrior??? Erins I want answers; this man is garbage. When he gets captured by the humans and comes back to the lake he gets so SO mad at Firestar for not “waiting for him”, my dude you were gone for seasons, you were deputy, you really expect the entire clan to stop working so that you can keep your friendship bracelet position? Everybody thought you were dead Graystripe!! Was everyone supposed to keep vigil forever?? He’s also a terrible father to both his litters, his reaction to being told that Feathertail’s dead is “aw man… she was so beautiful… like her mom…” that’s terribleeee. At some point in Omen of the Stars, after Briarlight broke her spine, Millie complains about Graystripe not helping her at all and then they start fighting about it, Graystripe’s only answer is something along the lines of “yeah whatever dude”. I hate him so much. I stopped reading after The Last Hope, so I can’t talk about the rest but, I’ve seen some parts of Graystripe’s Vows and let me tell I want this man gone for good. He’s lived for too long.

-Lionblaze: He’s the most flavorless character in the history of flavorless characters. What’s his arc? That’s right. He doesn’t have one. I literally have nothing to say about him. How is this character alive and in his way to become leader when Hollyleaf could have been in his place? Disgusting. Also, dreaming about killing your girlfriend and bathing in her blood? Bad. Not showing not even a bit of remorse about after waking up? Terrible. Badly hurting her mentor when you were trying harm her? Just straight up fucked up. He’s badly written, boring and kind of very misogynist at times.

I have many other opinions because I’m a very judgmental person but I’m gonna leave it at that because this is getting very long.

Bee Balm- What’s your favorite novella or super edition?

I’ve only read three! So Crockedstar’s promise I guess.

Daffodil- When did you first start reading the books?

In the summer of 6th grade, that’s when I was… 11-12 years old? I think? So in 2012-2013, I started reading them in Spanish but I read through them super-fast and the translations were super slow to come out so I just started reading the books in English. It actually helped my English level quite a bit! My first English book was The Forest of Secrets I think.

Dahlia- Has any death scene actually made you cry? What was it?

Snowfur’s (Reading about Whitekit screaming at her mother to wake up was super messed up), Yellowfang’s (I loved that old woman. I wish they hadn’t written about her in Starclan, she’s so out of character in later books) and Hollyleaf’s death (yes, first and second time, young me loved her to pieces. I still can’t believe they let her die a second time when Lionblaze’s flavorless ass was right there…).

Laurel- If you could write the books, what changes would you make?

I would contemplate the idea of just, moving forward in time? The warriors’ series feels very stagnant. Young characters die while having no personality at all and older characters from the first series are still alive and very much immortal at this point. We need new fresh blood.

I would just set up a completely new series: maybe the stories of Firestar and his family have been immortalized, maybe they are now revered as gods or something, I would create an actual religion system, one based in nature, the death and rebirth of all things and the need to remember those who have fallen. I would change their entire culture so that elders are more important; medicine cats are not regarded as useless (I’m looking at every character that forced in this position instead of choosing it themselves) and the warrior code actually makes sense.

The setting of this new series would be the lake territories but a long time has passed since the time of Firestar and things have changed a lot. A kittypet joins the clans and through their perspective we see how they work and act, what makes every single one of them different, their culture and laws, etc. It would be a nod to the first series while being completely new. It would also allow to add new characters from the start so they all have personalities and relationships with each other.

I would also contemplate creating one last series set up in the time of the original clans where everything just goes to hell. You guys remember rabies? I want that + Starclan going crazy. A full out massacre of old characters that ends in only a few surviving ones. I want blood, and I want it to be scary. If children can read about Tigerclaw’s horrible death, then they can read what in my opinion would be a zombie/ghost apocalypse. And then I would start anew with this completely new series set up in the future.

I mean, I would rewrite a looooooot of things, but that’s a talk for another day.

Petunia- Which arc is your favorite? Which is your last favorite?

My favorite is The Prophecies Begin when it comes to the plot and the Power of Three when it comes to characters. My least favorite is the New Prophecy.

Rose- Do you prefer traditional naming or creative naming?

Traditional all the way! I like when things have meaning and each name having its own really helps the feeling of there being a pre-established culture! Creative naming just doesn’t make a lot of sense to me in this context but that’s just my personal taste.

Violet- What do you think is the worst trope in the series?

Already answered!

Gardenia- Do you think you’ll ever leave the fandom?

Probs not, I’m in too deep, warriors is always at the back of my mind...

[strwbrryeos]

The Magic Shop (M)

SUMMARY; Your mother always told you magic came at a price. You should’ve listened. Well, at least you got revenge on that stupid shapeshifter Yoongi.

Genre : smut, angst, magic!au

Pairing : witch!Reader x shapeshifter!Yoongi

Contains : rough sex, grinding, nipple play, unprotected sex, you’re soulmates Jungkook said so, oral, hand job, creampie, enemies to lovers, major character death, lotta angst, sorry not sorry, dirty talk, praise kink, minor dom!Yoongi, finger sucking

Links removed! Please visit my blog for the master list!

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it’s almost as amazing as how free he feels. He loves this. Loves as the air bends around him, doing his bidding and keeping him afloat.

His favorite thing, however, has to be the fact that for a time, he can forget about you.

Well, that is until he lands to find you scowling at him with a very grumpy face. Terrible.

“Min Yoongi!” you screech, causing passersby to nearly jump out of their skin.

Yoongi huffs, shedding his owl form for that of a handsome, young man. So much for the freedom. “What?” he groans. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He shoves his way past you and into the store, ignoring the way your eyes burn holes into his back. Or at least, he tries to ignore it. But then he’s acutely aware of how his back hurts and oh my god is that smoke?

“Y/N!” he screams in panic, “stop it! Stop it!”  

“What? You seem―”

“Y/N!” shouts a new voice, distant and annoyed. “Stop setting your coworker on fire!”

With a dissatisfied sigh and a snap of your fingers, the flame on Yoongi’s back disappears, though the new scorch marks on his shirt aren’t much better. “Really?” he asks, and he has half a mind to turn into a wolf right now and snap your neck. Maybe next time.

“Next time don’t be late,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Are you just mad because I bit you last time?”

“You could’ve given me rabies!”

“For the last time, Y/N, I don’t have rabies!”

“That’s exactly what a person with rabies would say.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

You and Yoongi work as you always do: in perfect tandem but complete silence. Part of the reason that the wizard you work for hasn’t fired either of you yet is because, despite how absolutely morbidly you get along, you work fine as long as you don’t talk. The wizard likes it that way anyway.

He hired the both of you about two years ago; you, for your wonderful knack for magic and Yoongi for his healing abilities as a shapeshifter. The perfect duo to run an all-needs magic shop.

It’s too bad you hate each other, though.

The wizard, Seokjin, comes down from his lot, shaking his head at the two of you as he watches you work. “Still nothing, huh?” he asks with a laugh. “You’d think you’d get along better after so much time together.”

“Maybe we would if she weren’t such a―”

“I will literally give you fleas,” you cut him off, causing Seokjin to roll his eyes in exasperation.

“You know, part of what makes a good magician is being able to work with other people,” he says as he begins shuffling through the day’s schedule. “It’s important, especially if you’re gonna be a healer.”

“I have good people skills,” Yoongi huffs. “It’s this one who doesn’t.”

“It’s only when I’m around you,” you reply without so much as looking up from your pot. You turn to Seokjin, changing the subject. “I brewed the first potion of the day already,” you say, gesturing to your work. “The customer will be here to pick it up in about twenty minutes. I can get working on the next one if you want.”

Seokjin nods in approval. “Good work. Looks perfect. But I think I’ll do the next. You get started on the three o’clock appointment.”

“Sure thing.”

“And Yoongi,” he says, turning his attention to the man as he fiddles with his burnt shirt, “I’m pretty sure there’s a unicorn coming in later. Take care of that, would you?”

“You got it, Boss.”

Seokjin throws him a thumbs up, fixing his shirt in the process, before giving a few final instructions and vanishing into the air. You return to your work in silence, humming what is, to Yoongi’s ears, incoherent gibberish. It makes his ears ring, though magic spells always seem to have that kind of effect on his much-too-sensitive senses. Your hands wave in a defined yet random way over the cauldron until it turns the perfect shade of glass blue. Despite the annoyed rumbling deep in his chest that comes from being near you, Yoongi can’t help deny that you always look your best when you’re working. Maybe it’s because you’re not talking either.

Where you deal with the potions and the spells and magic items (seriously, why do talking cloaks even exist?), Yoongi specializes in magical nature, whether it be plants or animals or that really weird growth on a person’s skin that they swear is whispering stupid pick-up lines to them when they’re trying to fall asleep. He pokes around the greenhouse, checking in on his new batch of nightshade and making sure to give the silver orchids extra water. He whistles while he works, and a few of the live-in fairies come to pay him a visit from their gardens.

“How are you, Yoongi?” asks one delicately, fluttering in front of his face.

He smiles at the creature, her wings sparkling in the sunlight but so paper-thin that they’re nearly invisible, and says, “Better now that you’re here,” and the little fairy zips away in shyness. Another fairy appears, opting to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder as the shapeshifter makes his way towards the back of the greenhouse.

“How’s your coworker?” he asks.

Yoongi grunts in response, the thing in his chest growling in annoyance. “Always the worst.”

“Eh, I like her.”

“Still don’t understand why.”

“She’s cool! You should get to know her. I think you guys would make good friends.”

The other fair reappears, taking her place on Yoongi’s opposite shoulder. “Doubt it! Yoongi is nice! Y/N is not!”

“Oh, you’re just biased ‘cause he paid you a nice compliment!”

“I can pay you a compliment too, if you’d like, Novus,” Yoongi says with a soft laugh, and the small creature is blushing, angry at having been so easily charmed.

“Whatever,” the fairy scoffs. “Y/N is a good witch. You’re just angry.”

“And you’re not?” cries his female counterpart. “I don’t understand why you defend her. She doesn’t even come in here.”

“That’s cause this big ol’ shifter here won’t let her. How do you think she gets her spell ingredients?”

Yoongi jumps a little in realization. “So you’re the one that’s been taking from my supplies!”

“It’s not taking if it’s from my own home!”

“I guess,” chuckles Yoongi, really not caring but glad to have solved that mystery. “We’re not gonna be friends, though, Novus.”

“I think you two have more in common than you think?”

“Like what?”

“Well―”

“They don’t have anything!”

“Stay out of this, West!” The grouchy fairy continues. “You’re both here to help people, for starters.”

“So we have one career interest. Doesn’t make her more appealing.”

“I know you both like music.”

“Everybody likes music!”

“And you’re magical.”

“Everybody is magical, Novus!” laughs an exasperated Yoongi. “Look, let me just go water the shrooms and then I’ll leave you two alone, okay?”

“No, no, please take West with you. She never shuts up about you.”

“Novus!” West exclaimes, embarrassed and scandalized. “Be quiet.”

Yoongi only shakes his head, ignoring the bickering fairies that stay perched on his shoulders. A few gnomes come to greet him, but they’re quick to leave, annoyed by the chattering of the winged creatures. After Yoongi attends to the shrooms (during which the damned things wouldn’t shut up about how he and you were destined for life, claiming they could see into his soul), he retreats from the greenhouse and back into the real world.

He finds you in the shop, busily attending five different customers, and he already knows he’s going to get hell for this as soon as they’re done. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asks, rushing down the wooden steps. The customer glares at you before returning a friendly grin to Yoongi.

“Finally some service around here! I need to pick up an order. Heat suppressants for a young hybrid.”

“Sure thing,” Yoongi says, moving to the counter. “Name?”

“Lee Daesong.”

“Got it.”

Yoongi turns around, shuffling through the wooden cabinets behind him. He pulls out a small sack where the name “Lee Daesong” is printed in fine, gold ink. Yoongi hands it the man and he returns a smile and a handful of gold pieces.

“Thanks. Have a good day.”

“You too. Come back soon.”

Yoongi watches as you help an old witch with a spell before escorting her out of the shop, and you close the door with an exasperated sigh, whipping around to face your co-worker. He’s expecting you to yell, but instead he’s greeted with cold silence. You seethe instead, sitting down at your workstation and ignoring him entirely.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Not even gonna talk to me now?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Y/N,” the shifter whines, standing in front of your desk. “For fucks sake, we work together!”

“Unfortunately.”

“C’mon, really?”

You look up, staring him in the eye as your finger flicks the air, turning the pages of the book for you. “You left me to deal with five angry customers all on my own, and Seokjin is probably gonna hear about it and have my head!”

“Look, I’ll vouch, okay? My fault.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, “as if. We all know he loves you.”

“Loves me? You’re his prodigy student!” Yoongi exclaims, and he can feel his blood beginning to heat up.

You stand up, glaring at him. “Whatever. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Yoongi retorts before stomping off. You hear the distinct slam of the greenhouse door, and you sit back down in a huff.

It’s not like Yoongi is a bad person. He’s a great person. Hell, he’s perfect. And maybe that’s what pissed you off so much about him.

You liked him when you first met him. You might’ve even harbored a small crush on him. But after years of being groomed as the “prodigy student,” the girl destined for greatness, it irked you to find someone so good at magic―and so easily praised by your idol. Working for the Wizard Seokjin is a dream come true, but he never seems to have time for you. He might give you a passive nod after a potion well-done, but all Yoongi needs to do is smile at him and all of a sudden he’s getting cakes and cookies and a new plant to take care of.

Quite simply, you hated that. So you hated him.

The only good thing that came out of meeting Yoongi was the fact that you push yourself to be the best you can be every single day. You practice your magic into long, dark hours, ignoring the pulse of your head after so many spells. Magic flows from your fingers with incredible ease, and everywhere but the shop, at least, you are praised for it. At least something was worth it.

As the sun finally set to reveal a shimmering night sky, Yoongi flips the shop’s sign to “closed,” and you both begin packing up for the evening. Seokjin returns, his arms stuffed to the brim of all kinds of wacky looking plants and contraptions. Yoongi rushes to help him, ending up with a hoard of stuff that piled high and obscured his vision.

You crack a smile until Yoongi says, “I can feel your happiness. Stop it.”

Seokjin sets down his bags before taking the load off, one by one, and ratting off each thing’s use. “This one,” he says, holding up a clear jar with red fluid sloshing around in it, “is siren’s blood. Straight from the Seventh Sea. Pretty isn’t it? See the way it glitters?”

“Gross,” Yoongi says, his nose scrunching in distaste. “I can smell it through the jar.”

“What’s it for?” you ask.

“Really good for curses,” Seokjin replies as he stashes it away. “It’s pretty potent stuff. Good for enemies.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“It’s not to be used on innocent shapeshifters!” Yoongi pipes up, not liking the idea of you having access to such a thing.

“You act as if I would hurt you―”

Both Seokjin and Yoongi interrupt you with a sharp look.

“―on purpose! You didn’t let me finish!”

“The ‘innocent shapeshifter’ is right, Y/N. No curses.” Yoongi smiles triumphantly until the wizard says, “And you’re not allowed to use it to make yourself into some terrifying, super animal, okay?”

“Wait, I can do that?”

“Don’t give him ideas!” you shout.

“Enough, enough,” Seokjin says with a dismissive wave of his hands. “Gods, you two really don’t know when to cut it out, do you? No matter. I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning! Now get out. I can’t stand the sound of you two arguing.”

You and Yoongi give him a sheepish grin and utter your goodbyes before exiting the shop. The streets have a wispy, yellow glow to them, courtesy of the streetlights. You see a few pixies flying near the rooftops, dancing to a tune that you can’t hear.

“Gonna stand there the entire night?” asks Yoongi from behind you, ruining the serenity of the moment.

“Not as long as you’re here,” you reply cooly. You step away from him, turning to head home. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t be afraid to call in sick.”

“And make your day? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yoongi watches you go, shaking his head in irritation. You hear the sound of him morphing, but when you turn around, his figure is long gone. You shrug, continuing down the quiet street on your own. You pass stores and boutiques, markets and taverns before arriving at a cozy cafe on the street’s corner.

The bell on the door jingles as you push your way in, and a fluffy, two-headed puppy bounds its way up to you. You squat down in excitement, cooing and petting the dog until a shadow appear over you.

“I swear he likes you more than me. One day he’s just gonna leave with you.”

“If that’s the case I can consider my life a successful one. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Dork,” he says with a cheesy grin, pulling you into a hug. “How was work?”

“Terrible.”

“Yoongi?”

“Hate that guy.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and laughs, walking back towards the counter, his cloak flowing behind him. “He’s a good guy,” he says as he turns on the latte machine. “I don’t know what you have against him.”

You groan. “Can everyone stop telling me he’s such a great guy? I’m over it!”

“Well, he is. Sorry.”

“Taehyungie,” you whine. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. Take my side for once!”

“As your best friend it is my legal obligation to tell you when you should shut the fuck up and make friends with the guy.”

You huff, sitting in a chair with Cosmo comfortably seated in your lap. “That’s it. Cosmo is my new best friend.”

“Fine. Yoongi is mine.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Taehyung shrugs, bringing back a latte for you and a juice for himself. “I’ve known him forever. He’s a good friend.”

“Better than me?”

“No,” Taehyung snorts, “you both are terrible. Always complaining about each other and never doing anything about it.”

Cosmo hops off of your lap to snuggle up next to his owner. Taehyung alternates between heads, scratching them both behind the ears.

“Oh, he talks about me?”

“Don’t let it inflate your ego. He’s just telling me about what a bad person you are. You two seriously need to think about couple’s therapy. It’s been two years.”

“Taehyung―”

“Look, Y/N, in all seriousness, I love you both. Sure, I’ve known you longer, but I’d be lying if I said Yoongi wasn’t a good friend.” He pauses to sip his drink. “But if you both are going into the same career, which is, keep in mind, healing, then you need to learn to work with people you don’t like.”

“Yeah, but Yoongi is―”

“Is a person that you’re spending a lot of time with, like it or not. Might as well make the most of the situation.”

You slump in your chair, suddenly feeling very childish. You love Taehyung, but you hate how he’s always right. He’s too damn smart. “I knew I should’ve talked to Hoseok today.”

“Really?” Taehyung laughs. “The man’s a sadist! He’d be giving you the worst advice possible.”

“Well, maybe that’s what I need.”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N. C’mon. Try it my way first. Then, if it really, really sucks, you can go talk to the witchdoctor and see what he has to say.”

“Fine, fine. But only because I love you.”

“Mmhmm, I love you, too. Now go. Namjoon’s coming to pick me up.”

“Oh?” you say as you stand. “How’s that going?”

“Would probably go better if you weren’t here when he showed up!” he exclaims as he about shoves you out the door.

“Okay, okay, okay! Bye, Taehyung.”

“Bye, Y/N. Let me know how it goes tomorrow, okay?”

“Will do. Can I take Cosmo with me?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fucker.”

Against Taehyung’s wishes, you show up at Hoseok’s door anyway, and he greets you with a mischievous smile. “Can I do something for you, Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “I need a curse.”

―

You take a deep breath before entering the shop, trying to swallow the last of your pride. Taehyung is right, you know it. You just need to be the bigger person.

You climb the steps, and the door opens with a soft creak. Yoongi is already there, humming quietly as he organizes his plants. There’s a fairy napping on his shoulder, but she flies out of sight as soon as she hears you.

Yoongi looks up, expecting a snide remark, but he’s pleasantly surprised when all you say is, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Do anything fun last night?” you ask as you rifle through the papers that Seokjin has left at your desk.

“I―uh, yeah. Visited some friends.”

“Cool, me too.” You sit down, your eyebrows scrunched in concentration as you take in the information before you. Most of the papers are written in Ancient Draconian, and you can’t for the life of you remember what the squiggly symbol means.

“Hey, uh,” Yoongi interrupts you, waving a hand in front of your face.

You look up in confusion, not expecting to see him standing so close. “Yeah? What?”

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just… acting really nice, is all.”

Your cheeks flush and you look back down, averting his gaze. “I just figure that we should be nicer to each other is all.”

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. Taehyung. He points to the squiggly symbol on the paper. “Mix thoroughly.”

You pause, not quite registering that Min Yoongi just willingly helped you. “Oh. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He turns around, going back to work. The fairy from before is now hiding in his hair, eyeing you suspiciously. “She’s up to something,” West whispers just loud enough for Yoongi to hear.

“Don’t be so cynical.”

The two of you are doing your own thing in silence until Seokjin pops into the shop with a loud whap. He stops immediately, watching as the two of you work peacefully. “Did someone die?”

“Nope. Just trying something new.”

Seokjin narrows his eyes, glancing feverishly between the two of you. “It’s weird. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like us getting along?” you ask.

“What can I say? I must’ve gotten used to two years worth of unnecessary yelling.” The two of you say nothing as he begins his ascent up the stairs. Halfway up, he halts before saying, “You’re not fucking, are you?”

“W-What!”

“No!”

Seokjin puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry. Felt like I had to ask.” And with that, he disappears.

The air is thick with uncomfortable tension until someone walks in, and you both breathe in relief. It’s an attractive young man, dressed in a suit of fine, red silk and a black robe. He fiddles with his watch before turning his attention towards you.

“I’m here to pick up a potion.”

“O-Oh, yes. Sorry. Uh, name?”

“Jeon Jungkook. Can I also pick up a few ingredients while I’m here?”

“Sure. Yoongi can help you with that.”

Yoongi hops beside you, giving the visitor a gracious smile. “What are you looking for today, Sir?”

“Mm, a few things. Fairy wings, golden nightshade, black shrooms, and a couple of unicorn tears.”

“Sure,” Yoongi says with a nod. “The fairy wings and unicorn tears are here, and if you prefer, you can pick out the nightshade and shrooms yourself.”

“I would like that very much, yes.”

“Follow me then.”

Yoongi leads Jungkook to the greenhouse, and the two of them walk in silence until Jungkook says, “So how long have you and Y/N been together?”

Yoongi stops, eyes wide. “I―uh. What? We’re not… How do you know her name?”

“Oh, my bad,” Jungkook says with a small laugh. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the future from the present.”

“What?”

“I’m a seer. Sorry if that wasn’t clear. I can see people as they are now and who they’re going to become. Trying to work on seeing people in the past, but that’s a bit tricky. Everybody’s hidden themselves away.”

“So,” Yoongi says as he leads them towards the field of nightshade, “you’re telling me that we… me and Y/N… we become a couple?”

“Should I not have said anything?”

“No I just… We hate each other.”

“Hate? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What are you talking about? There’s not a single day that she and I have ever gotten along.”

Jungkook smiles and sticks his hands in his pockets. Yoongi thinks he looks infuriatingly calm. “She envies you. You admire her. Your ‘hate’ is just a miscommunication. Plus your souls are practically yearning to be together. I thought it was obvious.”

They stop at the nightshade garden, and Jungkook begins picking his way through them, leaving a dumbfounded Yoongi to process this information alone. “So we’re… soulmates?” Yoongi asks quietly as Jungkook picks his plant.

“Yep,” the seer says quite nonchalantly. “But beyond that it’s kind of blurry. Not sure why.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. It’s blurry. What more do you want me to say?”

“I’m not a mage. I don’t know what ‘blurry’ means.”

“It means I can’t see. I can see images. I see you two together. But beyond that it’s all very hazy. It’s blurry.”

“Sounds like a lot of projection to me,” Yoongi replies as he leads the young seer to the shroom patch. “Did Taehyung put you up to this?”

“Oh, you know Taehyung? I love that guy! His dog is super cute too.”

“He did, didn’t he?”

Jungkook laughs again. “Certainly not. Taehyung takes orders. Doesn’t give ‘em,” he says with a smirk.

Yoongi cringes. He did not need to know that. “Here are the shrooms. The black ones are back there.”

Jungkook nods, careful not to tread on any. “Shrooms can see into your soul too, can’t they? What do they say?”

Yoongi knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to give this guy the smug satisfaction of being right. “I don’t know.”

“Hm, maybe I’m wrong then.” He steps back onto the main path and Yoongi begins to lead them back into the shop. “But I’m probably not. Thanks for the stuff. How much will that be?”

“That’s forty-six gold,” you interject from your place at the counter.

“Perfect. I’ll see you two love-birds around, yeah? Have a good day.”

You watch him exit with wide eyes before turning to Yoongi. “Uh…”

“Don’t ask. Guy’s crazy.”

―

At some point, you’re not really sure when, you realize that you don’t actually have to try to be nice to Yoongi. You can just do it. Maybe he’s not all bad.

He still irritates you, though.

“So I hear you two are getting along now, huh?” Taehyung says from across the table.

Hoseok, who had been slurping at his food noisily, stops and looks up. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah. We are. Doesn’t make him less annoying though.”

“How’s that curse going?”

“No need for your curses, Hoseok,” Taehyung replies with a shake of his head.

Hoseok shrugs. “Too late. Already done.”

Taehyung looks at the both of you in shock. “You did what?” he screams.

“Relax,” he says around a mouthful of food. “It’s nothing bad. Just take away something he loves.”

“Hoseok!”

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt anyone. The thing he loves most right now is an old record player.”

“Or,” Taehyung interjects, “you could, I don’t know, not.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” He turns his attention back to you. “So tell me more about this Yoongi character. Y’all gonna fuck?”

Taehyung’s face turns at his crass statement, and you slap his arm. “We will not! He’s a friend.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and Taehyung’s face is absolutely glowing.

“He’s a friend! Oh my gods I have to go tell the whole world.”

“Please, don’t. I hate you.”

“It’s okay. You love Yoongi.”

“Wow, can’t believe she’s all grown-up. Boyfriend and everything,” Hoseok laughs.

“He’s not my boyfriend!” you shout defensively.

“Yeah, yeah. So I hear he’s a pretty powerful shapeshifter, right? Super young too.”

“Yeah,” says Taehyung. “He’s got a pretty impressive streak. And you hear the rumors about his family? They say that Min shapeshifters can become magical entities.”

“Aren’t they already magical entities themselves?”

“No, no, like demons. Angels. Unicorns. Mermaids. Dragons.”  

“What? No way. And a healer too, huh? Sounds like you two are perfect together, Y/N.”

“We’re not―”

“Oh no,” Taehyung says, “they’re soulmates.”

“Can you both please―”

“I knew it.”

“Stop it!” you bark, causing them both to stop and look at you. “Nothing is happening! He’s a friend, okay? Yes. That’s it. Now, my break is over, so I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?”

“Yeah, alright. See you.”

You shake your head, laughing to yourself as you make your way back to the shop. When the door opens, you’re afraid to find yourself suddenly pinned to the floor and face-to-face with a very mean looking wolf. Your body is frozen in panic, and for a second you forget any magic you had ever learned.

But then the wolf turns into a man, and you’re faced with one happy looking Min Yoongi. “That’s for being late,” he says as he climbs off you before extending you a hand.

You take it, and apparently Yoongi is stronger than you think because he pulls you right up, and now you’re face-to-face with his chest instead. Wow.

“Jerk,” you murmur before pulling away, the slightest tint to your cheeks.

“Aw, don’t be mad. You set my shirt on fire when I was late, remember?”

“Oh, right―”

“And then you said I had rabies.”

You cringe, preferring not to remember the more unsavory aspects of your behavior towards him. “Right. I know. I deserved that. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi laughs, his cheeks crinkling to accommodate his big smile. “Wow, I can’t believe I got an apology out of you.”

“That’s the only one you’ll ever get,” you say with a smile.

The day goes by easily; you spent most of it poured over your books. Seokjin left plenty of things for you to decrypt, most of them being lost spells. Where he acquired them you were afraid to ask.

“It’s closing time,” Yoongi says, appearing beside you. You look up, surprised to see that the world is dark beyond the shop’s windows.

“Oh. I didn’t even notice.”

“You’re too wrapped up in… what is this? Elvish?”

You giggle. “Nope. Mermaidian. Can you believe it?”

“I thought their spells were lost in the sinking of Atlantis.”

You thought so too, but apparently not. “Don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “And I’m not about to ask Seokjin. He does enough sketchy activity on his own.”

“You might have a point. C’mon. I’ll clean if you file.”

“Aw, what a gentleman.”

The cabinet complains loudly as you nudge it open, filing away the day’s receipts. Yoongi swipes up any stray dirt and waters his plants one last time. Your mind is preoccupied with the spells, though, and you’re running through the motions in your head. As soon as you’re finished, you’re back at your desk, trying to comprehend its instructions. You don’t notice Yoongi leaning on the broom, watching you intensely. The way you run your fingers through your hair, or the way your hair keeps falling out from behind your ears. The way you get a slight flush to your cheeks when you’ve made a breakthrough, or the adorable way you whisper as you talk yourself through it.

It’s when you smile to yourself and the thing in Yoongi’s chest damn near purrs that he drops the broom he’s leaning on and almost falls because, well, when did he catch feelings for you?

You perk up, alerted by the noise. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice shaking slightly. “Scared myself is all. I think I’m tired.”

You nod. “Go home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. What about you?” he asks as he grabs his bag.

“I’ll close up. Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Yoongi departs and you throw yourself back into your work, the solitary atmosphere something of second nature to you. You read the words of the script outloud, the hand motions coming to you naturally, and glittery, golden water fills up your hands. The fairy Novus, who likes to come and watch you sometimes, gives you a cheer, and you file the spell away, moving on to the next.

This one is a bit harder, and you laugh a bit to yourself because, hey, this one is in Elvish. It takes a couple tries (and a lot of frustrated murmuring) before you’re able to get it; thorny vines erupt from shimmering green sigils on the ground, whipping around dangerously like they’re looking for an enemy to strike. You quickly reverse your actions, the sigils vanishing into thin air and taking the vines along with it.

“Old Elvish battle spell,” you say to Novus as you file it away. “Good for enemies.”

“What about this one?” He flies down to your desk, picking a spell written on burn parchment. The writing shimmers, but there’s something deeply unsettling about it. You shrug and pick it up.

“Not sure. Looks Draconian, but it’s not.”

Novus hovers over it for a second before looking up at you in realization. “Oh! It’s an old spell from the Blood Age! It’s like a combination of Draconian and Vampiric.”

“Hmm, sounds utterly terrifying.” You smile. “I’m gonna try it.”

“Do you need help reading it?”

“Yeah, do you mind?”

Novus shakes his head, sitting atop your shoulder as he helps you recite the words. When you’ve learned it fully, Novus steps back and watches the magic happen.

―

Yoongi is halfway through his flight home when he feels it. The thing in his chest growls, twists and turns and he abruptly drops in altitude, suddenly feeling very wrong. It doesn’t take him long to realize that something’s happened to you, and he’s darting back towards the shop within seconds.

There’s an eerie red light emanating from the shop when he gets there, and when he knocks on the door, he gets no answer. “Y/N?” he shouts. “It’s me. Are you okay?”

No answer. The Thing urges him forward, begging him to just kick down the damn door.

So he does.

The door opens to reveal you, eyes closed as you cry out, your feet chained down by restraints that wind up from a terrifying, red portal. Yoongi takes a step towards you before he’s pushed roughly back by a small, purple light.

“Don’t touch it!” Novus shouts. “It’s bad magic! Bad magic!”

“What? What happened? We need to get her out of there!”

“No, no, no,” the fairy cries, zipping around the shop in a panic. “Bad magic, it’s bad magic…”

Yoongi turns to you, and the Thing shouts as he watches you scream in pain, your eyes opening for a split second to land on him before closing again. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that you’re hurting and something is trying to take you from him and oh, gods, why does his chest hurt so bad?

He doubles over in pain, and his head starts to feel fuzzy, like he’s falling asleep. The Thing roars, and he blacks out.

When he wakes up, he’s in his apartment. He does not remember getting there. He also does not know why you’re cradled in his arms, nor does he know why he physically can’t bring himself to let you go. But most importantly, why are the two of you on the hard-fucking-floor?

Yoongi lifts you gently and brings you into his room. He tucks you underneath the covers before tucking you under him, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he pulls you tightly to his chest. He breathes in your scent before drifting off again, his mind hazy.

―

You wake with a start, the previous night’s events rushing back to you at once. You remember Novus. You remember the language. You remember the words. You remember watching as your hands conjured a portal straight from Hell, and you watched as the Devil’s Ropes ensnared your feet, then your legs and hands. You remember a voice, a deep, ugly voice whispering your darkest fears in your ears. You remember blinding pain, coursing through your body as if in your very blood. But most important you remember Yoongi. He was there. He transformed into something terrible, something you never though capable, and he closed the portal himself.

And as everything came back to you, your body shook, and tears fell from your face. You bury your head in the pillow, afraid that when you open your eyes you would see it all again.

But when you do open your eyes again it’s to a soft-smiling Yoongi, gently rubbing the tears off your cheeks. “Don’t worry,” he says, “You’re safe with me.”

You hesitate, all of a sudden unsure of how to act, before rolling into him, body pressed right against his as you cry. He holds you close, stroking you lightly and whispering reassurances until your body stops trembling.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. “Thank you for saving me.”

He leans down and kisses your head, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. “What would I do without my favorite coworker?”

You sit up abruptly. “Work! Seokjin’s gonna kill me! I’m―”

“Come here,” he says, grabbing you by the hand and putting you back on the bed. “You’re taking a day off. I’ll tell him what happened.”

“But Yoongi―”

“Good luck trying to argue with me,” he laughs. “I’ll send Taehyung over to check on you, okay?”

You nod, sinking back down into the bed. “Okay.”

―

“I can’t believe it! He’s your prince charming!”

“Shut up, Tae. So he saved me from a demonic portal. Big deal.”

“Gods, you’re dense.”

“What are you talking about?” you groan.

“Okay, tell me, how did Yoongi know to come back for you?”

“Uh, I don’t know, lucky guess?”

“You know, as smart as you are, you can be pretty stupid.”

“Hey!”

“Shapeshifters have what can only be described as a thing in their chest, right? The source of all their powers?”

“Yeah, yeah. This is common knowledge, Tae.”

“Well the Thing is alert to danger when something they care strongly for is in trouble.”

“Okay…?”

“Holy fuck, you’re slow! He cares about you! And a hell of a lot too if his Thing thinks you’re that important.”

“What, so, it thinks I’m like his mate?”

“I mean, weird way to put it, but yeah. Pretty much.”

You lean back, your soup long forgotten. “Woah.”

“Now the question is, how do you feel about him?”

“I actually… I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, get thinking about it. ‘Cause the truth is out there for him at least. I know you like to hide yourself from people, Y/N,” Taehyung says, standing to clean up. “But do yourself a favor, okay? Don’t hide from him.”

Taehyung leaves you confused and irritated in Yoongi’s apartment, and there’s not much for you to do except pace back and forth impatiently.

“How do I feel about Yoongi?” you said aloud. “Hell if I know!” You flick your fingers in agitation, sparks flying from them every so often. Okay, yes, he’s good looking. Really good looking, but who’s paying attention? He’s got a heart of gold; you’ve seen it firsthand.

But that doesn’t mean you like him, right?

Sure, he can be equal parts infuriating and equal parts endearing. And, sure, the way that little kids and magical creatures alike flock to him is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and yes, he has the cutest smile, and wow you wish you weren’t so stupid because you’ve obviously liked him for a while now. Maybe you even loved him. At this point, who knew? Certainly not you.

You flop down on his couch in defeat. You really should’ve seen that coming from a mile away. At least Taehyung did.

The door rattles and keys jingle from the other side of it, and you realize that the sun had set long ago. You sit up, looking a bit frazzled as Yoongi walks in, and he looks just as startled, not really expecting you to pop up like that.

“What’s up?” he asks with a laugh, placing his keys on the counter.

“Not much. Thanks for sending Taehyung over by the way. How was work? Was Seokjin mad? Is he going to fire me?”

“Relax,” he says as he comes to sit next to you. “He felt really bad, actually. He never meant to put that spell in your stack.”

“Oh.”

Yoongi looks at you with a sweet, sincere smile, and suddenly it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. His pretty, pale skin. The way his hair falls over his head. His deep, thoughtful eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asks, pulling you out of your trance.

“Um. No. Actually. Okay, wow, I just…”

Don’t hide from him.

“I wanna tell you something.”

“Why doesn’t that sound good?”

“No, no, it’s good!” You pause. “I hope.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Okay, okay.” You take a deep breath. Taehyung’s words replaying in your mind.

Don’t hide from him.

“I… think I like you.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you think he’s about to reject you, and you swear you’re going to murder Kim Taehyung until he says, “That’s a relief.” He inches closer to you, and suddenly you’re very aware of your proximity. “Because I think I like you, too.”

Overwhelmed with the incredible urge to kiss the man in front of you, you only hesitate for a second before your lips are on his, and suddenly everything feels right in the world.

You can’t explain it; maybe it’s magic. Something is dancing through you, lifting you up and making your heart race. It’s something to do with Yoongi, you know, but beyond that you can’t tell. All you really care about is the fact that his lips are so soft and you wish you had done this sooner.

Yoongi’s hand slides to your waist and pulls you onto his lap, desperate to have you as close as possible. The thing in his chest is fucking ecstatic, having waited too long. Yoongi bites down gently on your bottom lip, and your mouth opens to let out a small gasp, a sound he quickly swallows back down. His hands are digging roughly into your sides, itching to go farther but afraid to make the first move. You’re wrapped around his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there.

You depart from his lips, evoking a quiet, needy sound from him as you move across his cheek and down his jaw before reaching his neck. You nip the skin, and Yoongi can’t help but grind up into you. It occurs to you that Min Yoongi is hard underneath you, and you’re doing no better, and you grind down into him, eliciting the sweetest of sounds from him.

“Y/N… we can… we can stop.”

“I don’t want to.”

“A-Are you sure.”

You pause to look up at him and nod eagerly. “I’m sure.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back,” he says, and the look in your eyes tells you that he’s telling the truth.

You lean in close and whisper, “I don’t want you to.”

He growls, wrapping you around his waist as he stands and carries you into the bedroom. He hardly hesitates, stripping his clothes off before ripping off your own. His eyes drink you in, loving the sight of you flushed and spread out before him, and he’s barely begun. He takes your mouth back in his before leaving kisses across your body, making sure to take pleasured time at your nipples.

He pinches one, rolling it between his fingers as he licks and laps at the other, not ever really wanting to stop because the sounds you make are oh, so pretty. But if it’s sounds he wants then it’s sounds he gets as a stray finger finds its place at your folds, flicking at your clit.

You arch your back, yelling out Yoongi’s name, and he hums in satisfaction. “That’s it, pretty girl. Say my name.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you moan as he descends, wanting to taste you for himself.

“You’re so wet for me already. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Please, Yoongi,” you whimper, already so pathetically fucked out for him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Yoongi sticks his tongue out quickly, just to see your reaction, but it’s hard to tease you when you’re pushing so hard on his head. You yank on his hair, and he gives you a slap on the leg that says, “Behave.”

You squirm under him as he finally puts his mouth on you, tongue working wonders. He easily slips two fingers inside you and you cry out, the sensation nothing but bliss. He licks at you roughly and fucks you on his fingers, loving the way you twist and turn beneath him.

“You taste so good, baby,” he says before returning back to your dripping center.

“Fuck, fuck, Yoongi,” you murmur as he nibbles at your clit. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re not in charge here, baby,” he says before standing up and giving your pussy a slap. You yelp, gripping tightly to the bedsheets. Yoongi’s face is coated in your juices, and he’s never looked happier. “Come here,” he commands.

You obey, though at first you have trouble, your legs shaking from denied pleasure. “Why don’t you get me ready for you?” You take a hold of his cock, already leaking precum and just begging to be sucked, but as you lean in towards him, he grabs a hold of your hair and says, “Nah, uh, baby. I’m gonna give everything I have to that sweet pussy of yours.”

You nod, not able to find a voice for yourself. You pump him gently, and he closes his eyes and relishes the feeling. You pick up your pace and his mouth drops open, face scrunched in concentration as he tries not to cum in your hand right then and there.

Eventually he’s had enough, and he says, “Lay back, babe.”

Your back hits the mattress without a second though, eager to finally have him inside of you. Yoongi laughs, stopping to kiss you gently. He massages your thighs a couple of times before looking deep into your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything to ask, “Is this okay?”

You give him a small nod, telling him to go ahead. He chases your lips one last time before lining himself up at your entrance.

“Please, Yoongi,” you plead.

He doesn’t respond, but looks at you through lidded eyes, his body awash with lust. “I’ll try to hold back.” He pushes his way in, and the both of you have your heads thrown back in groans of pleasure.

“D-Don’t,” you pant, struggling to find your voice. “Don’t hold back.”

“Baby…”

You grab his arm in urgency, the only thing on your mind the desperate urge to be fucked. “Please!”

Yoongi nods, withdrawing from you carefully before slamming back into you. The force has him slipping out of you, so he respositions himself and holds you close before entering you again. His grip is tight, and you can do nothing but sit there and take it.

Yoongi fucks into you with abandon, pouring everything from the last two years into his thrusts. Hate. Anger. Jealousy. Friendship. Happiness. Adoration.

He’s losing his goddamn mind inside you, and you’re no better.

Something’s alight inside of you, a fine sheen of sweat coating your body, but it’s nothing compared to the feelings raging inside you. You want this to last forever. “Yoongi,” you say, your mind dizzy with lust, “look at me.”

Yoongi does, a hand on your waist coming to trap your wrists above your head, and he stares right into your soul as he fucks the life out of you. You lean up to kiss him, though it’s more or less just tongue on tongue. The room is nothing but the sound of sex, and you can feel your orgasm approaching.

It starts in your toes, climbing its way up your body until you’re shivering. It starts to coil, centering in your stomach.”Y-Yoongi… Fuck… I’m gonna―fuck―I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, babe. Me too. Just wait. Just wait.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Touch me, please.”

Yoongi’s hand darts to your clit, feverishly working the sensitive bud. Your nails dig into his back, the sensation becoming too much.

“Cum with me, babe,” he says, and that’s all it takes for the two of you to come undone together.

You open your mouth in a scream, and Yoongi sticks two fingers in. You bob your head on them as if you were sucking his cock, muffling the sounds of your orgasm.

Finally the two of you come down, heaving as you collapse back onto the bed. You can feel the cum dripping out of you, but you really don’t give a damn. Everything just feels too good.

“Y/N?” Yoongi says through heavy breathing.

“Hm?” you answer sleepily.

“I think I lied earlier. When I said I liked you.”

“What?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

―

And you fall in love right back, and Seokjin is so sick of seeing the two of you cuddle at work that he is actually contemplating firing you both.

“I think I liked it better when you guys always argued,” Seokjin grumbles as he rifles through paperwork. Yoongi only grins, stealing a kiss from you on his way to the greenhouse. “Yuck. Definitely liked it better when you guys always argued.”

“Bite me,” you laugh, sticking your tongue out in defiance.

“That’s my job!” Yoongi calls from the other side of the shop, and Seokjin groans in disgust. You scratch at your hand as you continue to work; the annoying itch set in about two weeks ago and still hasn’t gone away. Seokjin takes notice, and grabs it to inspect.

“Still there, huh?”

“Yeah. Not sure what it is.”

“Get bit?”

“I don’t see a bite mark.”

“I can put a salve on it.”

“Yeah, please.”

Yoongi’s traipsing through the water lily garden when he hears Seokjin shout, “Yah! Get some blue shrooms for your girlfriend! I’m doing a thing!”

“Sounds sketch!” he shouts back but does as he’s told. The shroom patch is extra chatty today, much to his chagrin, and they’re all eager to get a word in. He does a pretty good job at ignoring them until a cursed shroom speaks up. They only have one; it’s good for enemies, as Seokjin says, and it’s an ugly, little thing. It’s green and brown and speaks with venom in its voice.

Yoongi is expecting some vicious jibe or harsh remark, but instead the shroom just says, simply, “What do you love most?”

Yoongi hesitates. “What?”

“You heard me.” The shroom repeats itself. “What, in your life, do you love most?”

It sounds like a harmless question, so Yoongi answers, “Y/N, of course.”

“Of course,” the shroom says, and its mouth morphs into a horrible grin as a shrill scream pierces the air. Yoongi looks up in a panic, knowing full well that that’s you.

“What did you do?” Yoongi shrieks, the thing in his chest bubbling in fear and anger.

“Nothing that wasn’t already done.”

Yoongi rips the shroom out of the ground and throws it onto the floor before running as fast as he can. His human legs, he decides, aren’t fast enough and he’s at your side in the form of a big, black wolf. He morphs back into a human and holds you in his arms, searching to Seokjin for answers.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, panic rising in his chest.

Seokjin looks just as alarmed. “I don’t know! She was just standing here! And then something happened, I don’t know, and now there’s a mark on her hand!”

“A mark? What mark?” He turns to look down at you and finds you sobbing, clutching desperately at your left hand. His heart aches to see you that way, and the Thing isn’t too happy about it either. “Baby,” he says, “let me see your hand.”

“I c-can’t,” you sob. “H-Hurts, Yoongi, it hurts!”

“Let me see. We can make it go away.”

With coaxing from both Yoongi and Seokjin, you’re able to release your hand long enough to show them the source of your pain. A large ‘X’ is embedded in your skin, written in an odd mix of gold glitter and your own blood.

Seokjin frowns, a look that does not put Yoongi at ease, and says, “Let’s put her to sleep for a bit. Then we can try and discern what’s wrong.”

Yoongi doesn’t have nearly half a second to protest when Seokjin is already casting the spell, and you fall limp in Yoongi’s arms. At least you’re not crying anymore. Yoongi carries you upstairs at Seokjin’s behest and lays you on his bed.

“What the hell is that?” he asks the wizard who’s pacing nervously around the room. He doesn’t get an answer when two figures zap into the room.

“Got your message,” Taehyung says, rushing to your side. “What happened?”

“Maybe you can tell me,” Seokjin replies, anger lacing his voice.

“What? Are you trying to imply I had something to do with it?”

“No. But your friend here might.”

Hoseok looks up in shock. “Okay, I am a lot of things but never, never would I hurt Y/N.”

“Look at her hand,” Seokjin says simply, and the color drains from Hoseok’s face.

“What? But I…”

Then he notices Yoongi standing there, and everything clicks into place. He storms at him, grabbing the shapeshifter and thrusting him against the wall.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi growls, ready to tear him limb from limb.

“What did you do?” Hoseok hisses, and Yoongi can only stare at him dumbfounded.

“What did I do? What did you do?”

“What did you do right before this happened? Right before the mark appeared?” Hoseok pressed.

“I… I don’t know! I was having a conversation with a dumb shroom, is all!”

“You idiot! Shrooms can see into the future!”

“So?”

“Gods, you activated the curse!”

“What curse?”

“Ah, the curse, the curse…” Hoseok mumbles, letting Yoongi down.

Taehyung approaches his friend, and he looks quite calm, so Yoongi isn’t expecting him to slap him so hard across the face.

“Motherfucker,” he fumes. “I told you. I told you. Look what you’ve done!”

“She came to me!”

“And all you had to do was say no! It’s easy! One word! N-O!”

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” Yoongi bellows over the chaos, his voice reverberating enough to shake the room. Yoongi notices that Seokjin is crying, Taehyung’s eyes are glassy, and Hoseok looks like he’s about to collapse; he’s not so sure he wants to know anymore.

“You tell him,” Taehyung whispers. “You tell him.”

“I… I’m sorry… The curse… You can’t go back…”

“W-What?”

“It’s the Devil’s Trade,” Seokjin says, his voice rough. Yoongi has never heard him sound so wrecked. “Take away the thing your enemy loves most.” Yoongi sucks in a breath. “And you shall have the ultimate revenge.”

“At the time of the curse, you loved a record player the most. She was supposed to ask you about. She was supposed to ask you the question. But then she wanted to be nice to you and started being friends, and I guess she forgot.”

“So you’re…” Yoongi stumbles backwards. He can’t breathe. “She’s gonna… I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles again. “She’s gonna die.”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he can’t see anymore. All he can see is your broken figure, barely heaving a breathe in Seokjin’s bed. Yoongi does what he does best: he runs. He runs right out of the shop and right into the sky.

Yoongi can feel the wind rushing under him; it tugs on his wings like the hand that tugs at his heart. He hates this. Hates that all of a sudden he has no control, his life seemingly flailing like a flag in the wind.

The worst thing, however, has to be the fact that all he can remember is you.

The thing in his chest tells him to go be with you, to be by your side, but he can’t bear to see you like that. He wants to see you laugh and smile and dance with him. He wants to see you waking up next to him. He wants to see you when he comes home.

But he knows it’s not an option. He needs to be strong for you. 

He lands again, and stares at the building where he knows you’re sleeping. He takes a deep breath and steps inside the magic shop, exchanging his fears for a positive attitude.

[hopeisour4letteredword]

Puppy Love Ch2

Summary: Yuri has somewhere between two and four children, depending on how your definition of "child," a dog, two jobs, and a too-small apartment. Reconnecting with his estranged best friend wasn't supposed to be on this week's to-do list.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

Yuri doesn’t forget to go grocery shopping mainly by dint of wanting private time to sulk before he goes home. Fucking Flynn and his handsome fucking face and perfect career track and judgmental attitude. By the time he gets back to the apartment and throws together dinner, he’s all but pushed Flynn from his mind in favor of what he needs to get done at the bar tonight and how many hours he’ll be able to sleep between closing there and opening the café in the morning. He banters half-heartedly with Judy as she unloads the dishes from the dishwasher, straight into the kids’ hands. They all slump around the coffee table to eat.

“How was Repede’s trip to the vet?” Estelle asks.

“He’s full of vaccines,” Yuri says, trying not to sound surly. He doesn’t really want to think about it. “No rabies, parvo, hepatitis or Lyme disease for him.”

“Good!” Karol says. He reaches under the table to pat Repede on the head. Repede sniffs his fingers hopefully for food. “Repede’s gotta be healthy, who else will keep Yuri in line?”

“Me,” Judy offers. Yuri socks her lightly in the shoulder. “Hey, don’t hit a lady.”

“You’re not a lady, you’re a menace to society.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“It really doesn’t,” Rita says.

“You sure wouldn’t know that firsthand,” Yuri says. “Anyway, Judy, you have to let Raven tip you again—the old man won’t let me pay vet bills anymore.”

“I do let him tip me,” Judy says. Yuri curses, loudly. “Why would I turn down that much money? ...He pulled one over on you again, didn’t he?”

“That son of a bitch,” Yuri says, stabbing his fork into his spaghetti with more force than necessary. Karol stares at him with wide eyes. Yuri sighs. He’s supposed to be watching his language. “Sorry, Karol.”

“You’re moody tonight,” Rita says. She steals one of Karol’s meatballs while he’s distracted. He hollers with outrage and tries to steal it back. They wave forks wildly in each other’s directions. Yuri makes the executive decision not to intervene unless someone gets hurt for real. “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?”

Yuri rolls his eyes at her and goes back to eating, ignoring her. The next time he looks up, there are four sets of expectant eyes on him.

“Seriously, guys?” He scowls at them. “...I ran into somebody I know this afternoon. I don’t want to—“

“It wasn’t Zagi, was it?” Karol asks, anxiously.

“What? No. I’d have all the blinds closed and the deadbolt drawn if it was Zagi.”

“We ought to just call the cops on him next time,” Rita says.

“Bold of you to suggest inviting the cops to an apartment inhabited by both Judy and myself,” Yuri says. “Considering we’re basically be gay, do crimes incarnate.”

Estelle has been quiet, looking thoughtful, but now she suddenly brightens. “Oh! Yuri, did you see Flynn at the vet? He’s a vet tech now, isn’t he?”

Goddammit, how did she do that?

“Yeah,” Yuri says, sullenly.

“That’s wonderful!”

“Sure.”

“I’ve really been wanting to get you two back in touch,” Estelle says, beaming at him. Of course she has. Estelle’s an angel and Flynn’s probably never had a single damn reason to be cross with her. She doesn’t get it. “I mean, I didn’t because I don’t know whether I should tell him where I am now, since he knows Dr. Dinoia... And I didn’t know how to explain how I know you without mentioning that I’m here....”

“Who’s this Flynn you two keep bringing up, anyway?” Rita demands.

“Hold on, I think I have a picture of him somewhere,” Estelle says. She scrolls through her phone for a moment, then holds it out for Rita to see.

“That guy?” Rita scrunches her nose up. Karol insistently motions for Estelle to show him, too. Judy peers over his shoulder. “Yuri’s friend? I wouldn’t have made that connection.”

“You’ve met Flynn?” Yuri looks at her askance, morbidly curious. “How’d that go?”

“He tried to boss me around as part of some stupid outreach project with our class and the local university,” Rita says. Sounds like Flynn, alright. “So I was like, ‘I know more than you,’ and after a bit he told me to keep up the good work and left me alone.”

“He didn’t even chew you out?”

“Nope,” Rita says, around a mouthful of spaghetti.

Estelle lowers her fork with a frown. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Flynn chew someone out, either...”

“Great,” Yuri mutters, digging back into his food. So it’s just a him thing, then. Cool. Fine. Another fuck-up extraordinaire Yuri Lowell privilege. He loves having those.

“I thought you’d be happier,” Estelle says, still frowning. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Thrilled.”

“You two missed each other so much!”

“Heart-rendingly.”

Rita kicks him under the table. “Don’t pick on Estelle.”

“I’m not picking on her,” Yuri says. His jaw aches from gritting his teeth so much today. “I don’t want to talk about Flynn right now. Karol, how was practice?”

The kids all exchange looks. Still, Karol is always eager to talk about lacrosse, and within seconds the tense silence gives way to his enthusiastic, interminable chatter. Thank God. Yuri gets some peace of mind for exactly as long as it takes to finish dinner and take Repede on a lap around the block. He studiously does not check his phone and does not think about what, if anything, he would say to start a conversation with Flynn. It works great right up until he and Judy are loaded into the car so he can drop her off at her bartending job on the way to his own.

“So,” she says, drawing the word out. “Flynn, huh.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Yuri says, keeping his eyes focused on the road.

“It’s been an awfully long time to still be mad,�� Judy says.

“Shut up, you don’t even know him,” Yuri snaps, then stops, taking a deep breath. “...Sorry.”

She shrugs, unfazed. “I knew it was a sore spot when I brought it up.”

They’re both quiet for a minute. Slowly, feeling out the words as they come to him, Yuri says, “I don’t have any reason to think things would be any different now than they were the last time I saw him.”

“Hmm.”

“He’s further along with his life plan, and I’ve added, like, three new obstacles to whatever the fuck mine is anymore, along with not going anywhere with it in the first place.”

“It would be awfully harsh of him to judge you for that,” Judy says. “Considering most of the obstacles in your life come from an inability to ignore people in need.”

Yuri laughs, bitterly. “Flynn’s pretty good at harsh judgement if you catch him in the right mood. Or the wrong one, I guess.”

She reaches over and gently pats his leg. “Maybe he’s changed. What did he say to you at the vet?”

“He told me I never change, scolded me for picking up freeloaders and for being rude to the old man, suggested Repede destroyed Estelle’s shoes because I don’t exercise him enough...”

“And?” Judy prompts, when Yuri makes the fatal mistake of hesitating.

“...And said he missed me and wanted to catch up over coffee sometime.”

Judy’s silence speaks volumes.

“All of the first things I said still happened,” Yuri says.

“And you can talk to him about them,” she says. “But Estelle was right, you know. I can tell you missed him, too. Everybody who hears you talk about him can tell.”

Yuri grips the steering wheel harder. “Just because we missed each other doesn’t mean everything will magically work out.”

“No, but it might mean it’s worth the effort of trying.”

“This is why I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“Why, because you know I have a point and you can’t argue with it?”

“Judy.” They pull into the parking lot of her bar. For once in their shared career history, they’re early. Of all the nights, it had to be this one. Judy takes off her seatbelt and rests her fingers against the handle of the door.

“Let me make you a deal. Mm... more of a bet, perhaps.”

“...I’ll hear you out, at least.”

“You have to talk to Flynn about your relationship and shop for a new apartment...” she raises her free hand to forestall his protests. “And I have to talk to Rita about my anti-military robotics raids and figure out how to rescue Ba’ul.”

“What’s the bet?”

“If I accomplish my goals before you accomplish yours...” Judy drums her fingers against the handle. “We’ll sit down as a family and have a discussion about your little crush.”

Yuri feels the color drain out of his face. “That’s not—I don’t have a crush.”

“Hmm. Your pining, then?”

“I’m not pining either!”

“You’re right, that conversation wouldn’t go anywhere,” Judy says. “It would just devolve into you and Rita calling each other gay. We can talk about the self-esteem issues sabotaging your relationships instead.”

“Get out of my fucking car.”

He reaches across her to yank open the passenger-side door. She catches his hand. “But if you accomplish your goals before I accomplish mine... Should I pick your prize, or do you have something in mind?”

Yuri stares at her, eyes narrowed. Judy smiles back, sweet as honey and sharp as a razor.

“...If I win, you have to get therapy for your daddy issues.”

Her face falls into a scowl, but she extends her hand to him. “Fine. Do you accept the bet, then?”

Yuri shakes on it. “Hope you like shopping for therapists.”

“Oh, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

She lets herself out of the car and blows him a kiss as she disappears into the employee entrance of the bar. Yuri, for the second time that day, gives himself thirty seconds to freak out behind the steering wheel. Then he takes a deep, fortifying breath and puts the stick shift into reverse.

Life goes on, apparently with Flynn in it whether Yuri likes it or not.