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illumiiiz · 1 year

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heyy!! could you tell me about your killjoy selfship?? :D

HI!! <3 omg hi akfhabsakdn my whole body just perked up like a dog’s does when you say “walk” or “treat”

yes absolutely thank you so much for asking!!! truly I was never actually expecting someone to ask me abt that so I apologize for the late response; I had to organize my thoughts in a way that would actually make sense to other people lol. and I don’t know a ton of killjoy lore anyway so this may or may not make sense but!! oh well!!

soooo this is my killjoysona :DD I have yet to actually draw and color her properly but she’s basically me with cooler hair (she dyes it any time she can find new colors), better style, a dirt bike, and a ray gun. and a cooler boyfriend. her name’s Carbon Cavity. like I said she’s me but awesomer <3

here’s a sketch I did just for you + a picrew I made a while back (that’s as close as I could get w it lol but I really need to properly draw her soon,, aah)

anyways,, so the self ship part comes in when she’s dirt biking around and comes upon an old abandoned department store or something and is like, oh hey. I’ll just pop in there and raid some shit real quick. little did she know the Fab Four got there first and already figured out the building was all locked up so ghoul rigged up a bomb to blow the doors open and uh. had already taken cover for it to go off and it went off when she was like 50ft from the door 😀 so the four came back out and lo! a body on the ground! so they’re freaking the fuck out and she gets back up like wtf just happened?? and the four are like OH GOD ARE YOU OKAY and ofc she can’t hear a thing but her ears ringing bc a fucking bomb went off in her face basically so she ends up hanging around w them in the store til her ears stop ringing quite so much.

so she’s deaf in one ear from that lmao.

but anyhow she ends up following the four back to the diner cuz she’s just been going around crashing wherever anyway, might as well right? 🤷‍♀️ but turns out she’s cool and they’re cool and they all like each other so much she ended up never leaving hehe,, aaaand she liked fun ghoul the best <33 even tho she still brings up him blowing up a bomb practically in her face <333 (“I DIDNT FUCKING KNOW YOU WERE THERE!!”)

like she flirts by being mean (affectionately ofc) so originally she would just keep bringing up the bomb incident to ghoul to make fun of him kinda,, like she’d volunteer for first watch one night and he’s like no carbon you had it last night, I’ll take it this time it’s fine. and she’s all like “mmmm sorry bub I can’t hear ya that well… had this close encounter with some guy’s bomb going off, see? so I’m deaf in one ear now” and he’s just like 😑 … fuck you carbon. and she just giggles but she lets him take the watch anyway. but yeah so they mess with each other a lot and somewhere along the way they started doing it more for each other’s attention and less to be funny. AND on top of that she’s really affectionate (hugs the guys regularly, has sat in jet’s lap once in the trans am and in kobra’s once on a dare, and has fallen asleep on each of the four at least once), AND has to lean really close to them to hear them better sometimes bc yk. hearing problems. and they’re both kinda stupid so party, jet, and kobra literally figured out the other two liked each other soooooo long before the two even realized it lol.

anyways it all comes to fruition one night when they’re changing watches, carbon taking over from ghoul BUT ITS LIKE RLLY AWKWARD YK BC THEY’VE BOTH FIGURED OUT THEIR FEELINGS BY NOW BUT HAVENT FIGURED OUT THE OTHER PERSON’S,, LFHSKDJFJSK— so carbon heads out to wherever ghoul’s stationed and it’s like. she says hi and he says hey, and she kind of just expected him to hug her goodnight and go after that but he doesn’t so she sits with him in silence for a good while, sorta just waiting for him to go in to bed and also just trying to enjoy this rare alone time w him without overthinking it too much. eventually he scoots a little closer to her and puts his arm around her. she lays her head on his shoulder. still neither of them say anything for another ten minutes or so.

until finally she says, “ghoul?” it comes out quieter than she expected it to.

“hm.”

“you should go in and get some sleep, I’ll be fine out here.”

“mm, yeah… I guess you’re right.” and he nods a little but doesn’t take his arm away; she hasn’t lifted her head from his shoulder either.

another minute of silence. “you cold?”

she looks up at him. “sorry?”

he leans closer and repeats the question. she shakes her head ever so slightly and tries to ignore the way her heart skipped when he leaned down. “oh. no, I’m fine.” they haven’t broken eye contact since he first asked.

“you sure?” he says it quietly on purpose this time. when she inevitably inclined her head to have him say again, he leans in and kisses her cheek instead. (!!!!)

she pulls back slightly to look at him for barely a second, then leans in and kisses him proper !! aaaaaa -

eventually ghoul does go in and sleep :’) but not before a few more kisses and a very sweet confession discussion <3

and in the morning when they all get up, carbon hugs party, kobra, and jet good morning and she gets to ghoul and he kisses her instead <33 to which party goes FUCKING FINALLY YOU GUYS.. and kobra and jet exchange bets across the table,, alrjwkdjd

AAAND I’m gonna stop there bc I really need to go to bed but I really really wanted to answer this first akdhaksjak </3 thank you sm again for asking!!! this was so fun to ramble about :’D I could go on abt this forever probably so if you wanna hear more just lmk!! there are many antics in my brain I would loveee to talk abt sometime hehe

#THIS IS SOOOOO LONG ALFHAKDJ SORRY EL #my heart rate literally doubled when I read the ask I was SO excited abt this 😭😭😭#tysmmmmm #eve's asks #also! fun little tiblet: carbon had a little thing with jet for a while before she figured out she liked ghoul #like they held hands a lottt.. kissed a few times… but eventually it kinda just died out and both of them were okay with just being friends.#carbon cavity #fun ghoul #killjoysona #selfships

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xprojectrpg · 3 months

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Moment of Awesome - Jessie Drake/Chameleon: Nica meets Jessie while she's decorating for Pride, and they discuss being ace in the community.

"Happy Pride!" Jessie threw her arms up in celebration. "Now I accidentally bought a million flags - don't ask how that happened - so do you happen to subscribe to the good word of the queer gods on this door?" She made a show of gesturing to the door like she was about to open it to reveal a grand prize.

Nica paused again. Then she said, rather bashfully: "Do you have a spare ace flag?" Maybe it was time for her to take actual pride in her own orientation.

"Of course!" Jessie dipped into the suite and came back out with an eight by eleven ace flag, proudly presenting it to Nica. "Don't tell the others-" by which she meant the other flags, of course, "but this one is my favorite. The color scheme is just so nice. I might get a bigger ace tattoo next month, I'm starting to get the itch for one again. And the butterflies are so small." She turned her arm to show Nica the pride butterflies in the crook of her elbow - one ace, one aro, and one trans.

Nica blinked. "Wait, are you ace too?" The "too" was kind of a giveaway.

"Sure am!" Jessie puffed up proudly - as much as she was capable of, at least. "It doesn't come up as much as being trans because no one ever really asks, 'hey how do you feel about sex' unless they want to have it with you, but personally I think we should talk more about it."

Nica clutched the flag to her chest. "YES." It couldn't have been more vehement if she'd tried. "I mean, I get it, sex is important for the continuation of the species and all that, but it's everywhere. Especially here. So much sex. All the time." She wrinkled her nose a bit.

"I mean, I feel like the species might benefit from going celibate for like a decade, but..." Jessie waggled her hand back and forth. "That's not the point. And yeah I've noticed people are a lot more..." More hand waving. "Around here. And that's cool, good for them, no shame. But like. Man, I understand libidos even less than I did when I was living in a college dorm."

That got a brief bark of laughter. "I swear the whole place needs hosing down sometimes," she agreed. It was such a relief to talk to someone else who felt the way she did. "I mean, I get it. Lots of attractive, fit young-ish people all crammed into the same living space. But it just gets so damn tiring sometimes!" She tilted her head. "So, this is probably a bit personal, but when you go to Pride... I'm guessing it's under the trans flag? Since it's not really safe with the others?"

Jessie tilted her head a little, curious. "What do you mean 'safe'?"

Nica grimaced. "Well... There's the whole "ace people aren't really queer" dialogue going on. Not just with the straights, but with the whole queer community, you know? And there's a pretty loud group that says we should be included under the Pride umbrella and definitely not at Pride itself." She stopped, feeling awkward.

"You're right, that dialogue does happen." Jessie's tone was a bit more sedate now. "And - first to answer your question, I go under all the flags. I either wear the trans flag as a cape and wear my aro-ace shirt - it's a bow in the ace colors and an arrow in the aro colors - or I wear my ace/aro combo flag and 'nobody knows I'm trans' shirt. And... you're right, people do say that, and they're very loud about it, but they're not the majority. And that's not always reassuring, because they're still loud and kind of scary sometimes, and no amount of reasoning with them is ever going to work. The most important part, I think, is to remember that they're wrong, and also that there are people like them for almost every letter of the community except L and G. Like - bi people who aren't in same-sex relationships. If your partner looks like the opposite gender, then you're not really bi according to the self appointed community judges, and you don't belong at Pride. Trans women - especially lesbians - have a hard time because they're told they 'take resources from real women.' I've been told before that I don't belong to the trans community because I have passing privilege, which is total bullshit. There's always going to be people telling you that you don't belong unless you fit their very strict guidelines of what a queer person should be, and they're wrong. And I know it sounds like I'm making it all seem really easy like you can wake up tomorrow with sudden confidence because you know they're wrong, but really it takes time - and for me years of therapy - so if you want to go to Pride and you're not ready to be loud and proud, that's fine too. No one is going to stop you at the proverbial gate and ask what flag you're attending under, you know?"

Nica took all of this in, nodding along as Jessie spoke. "I guess it's because I've only been out a few years, and only around here," she admitted. "But... maybe it's time I stopped worrying about it." She gave Jessie a shy sort of smile. "If it wouldn't cramp your style, would it be okay if I joined you? For the first little while, anyway?"

"Of course!" Jessie was obviously and absolutely thrilled. She loved helping people find their way into the community, even if they were just testing the waters. "You can join us for whatever you want, however long you want. And if you decide you want to get a little more crazy, we can help."

#moment of awesome #chameleon #Jessie Drake #plots #plot #xprpg #xproject #rpg #rp #phase 2

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whatisreggieshortfor · 2 years

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Family Reunions Can Suck

Kageyama needs a plus one for his family reunion.

Altered to fit the request from @acyd-m

Kageyama x trans!m!reader

TW: jealousy

He asked you to be his plus one to his family reunion.

You couldn’t be sure how this came to be. You were his manager, and while you took your job seriously, you still let your boys goof around sometimes in their training- just to keep the game they loved fun. The coaches and trainers never seemed to mind, the guys always played their hardest. But you didn’t think he really paid attention to you outside of your job. He always looked annoyed when you encouraged them to have fun, telling you that games were serious.

And then a week ago, he came to you, damn near pleading. His sister was trying to set him up with a friend that she was bringing with her fiancé, and asked you to pretend to be his partner so he could get through the event without his sister trying to set them up.

Which is how you found yourself here, duffel bag stowed in your car, preparing to spend three days with the player that liked you the least on the team. Knocking on the door, you let out a nervous breath. If this went badly, would he want them to replace you as manager? Why did he ask you instead of one the guys on the team? Or even his friends from other teams?

You were snapped out of your thoughts as the door opened, Kageyama standing there with an awkward look on his face, only to release a sigh of relief when he sees you. “Oh thank god. My sister kept saying she’d come pick me up because she refused to believe I was bringing somebody.”

You snorted at the uncharacteristic look on his usually stoic or annoyed face, “Well, here I am. You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah- yes. Just let me grab my bag.” You nodded, stepping back away from the door and leaning against the hallway wall as he disappeared back inside.

The drive wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Maybe because you were the one doing the driving, at his insistence so that if you got uncomfortable you could leave. He kept fidgeting, curling and uncurling his fingers, playing with his seatbelt or the hems of his clothes, until you finally reached over and caught his hands in yours. “Kageyama, you need to calm down. If you’re this antsy now, you’re gonna blow the whole thing the second they see us.” He didn’t reply, and chancing a glance at him at a stop light showed you he was frozen, staring at where your hands entangled. “Better get used to it, pretty boy. They’re gonna expect us to hold hands.”

“Right. Yeah. I knew that.”

You almost snorted before a different thought crossed your mind, “What term did you use when you told them? Because if you said girlfriend, I understand but-“

“I said boyfriend.” He answered immediately, “I am aware of your preferences on the matter, and you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.”

You nodded to yourself. When you were hired on as the team’s manager, you were immediately open with the players of your trans status. Most of them understood immediately, except you had to explain it to the more confused players like Kageyama and Ushijima. None of them ever made you feel bad about it, but it was good to know that he cared enough to use the right terms. Instead of replying, you reached up to turn up the music, before settling back to holding his hands as you drove. You figured it was better to do this while you could, since Monday you would go back to never having a chance to be this close to him.

Arriving at the bed and breakfast his family had rented out was awkward, especially when he realized that his family had only booked the two of you one room. You had expected that, apparently he did not. Laughing goodnaturedly at the situation, you took hold of his arm, “Relax, Tobio. You act like we’ve never shared a room before.”

Kageyama’s mind flashed with a trip the team had taken, they all slept in the same room, you included, “This is a little different then-“

“Yes, it’s a little awkward with your family knowing that we’re sharing a space.” You smiled easily, even if you were panicking internally.

His sister grinned where she stood with her own fiancé, winking she said, “Just keep the noise down, little brother.”

You couldn’t fight the flush that creeped up your neck, even as you laughed with her.

When it came time to go to sleep, you pulled a sleeping bag out of your duffel, spreading it out on the floor. He watched you curiously before voicing the question, “What are you doing?”

You blinked at him, “Well, you need to sleep in a bed, you need to keep your back in shape. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“But wouldn’t the floor hurt your back?”

You snorted at how genuinely confused he looked, “I guess, it might. But-“ you gestured to the bed was barely bigger than a twin, “I don’t think we’ll both have a lot of space on that.”

Kageyama achingly wanted to ask you to lay next to him anyway, but as he watched you curl into your position on the floor, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Miwa was enamored by the ‘relationship’ you had with her brother, respectful and curious. The friend, Mei, she had brought on the other hand…

You watched from your seat by the cozy bar, as Miwa’s friend pushed her chest, clad in a low cut shirt, against Tobio’s arm as she over-enthusiastically questioned him about volleyball. Kageyama didn’t seem to pay attention to it, as he answered her questions seriously. When you heard a sigh next to you, you glanced over to see Miwa frowning at the two of them. You looked at her concerned, “Everything alright?”

“Hmm?” She looked your way, “Oh, I just don’t know what’s going on with her. I mean, I don’t know if she’s actually trying to flirt or not. But I’ve never seen her act like this. It’s like she’s just disregarding that he’s in a relationship. I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, “It’s not her actions that would matter in a relationship. It’s his. I trust him to do what’s best.” And you did, but at the same time you hated seeing this. You figured you didn’t have any real chance with him, even as he pretended to be interested in you, but this still hurt and the jealousy was burning in your chest. Miwa nodded her head with a smile, before calling over one of their cousins to meet you.

Kageyama admittedly had been desperate when he asked you to attend his family reunion, and that desperation masked the anxiety he felt about finally asking you to be his date- but he had to keep reminding himself that it was fake. He saw the way you cared for the team, and he wanted you to care about him the way he cared about you. He wanted you by his side all the time. While his sister’s friend was pressing against him asking questions, he kept trying to pull his arm away, but she would just press further. He wished you were in her place, looking up at him with eyes that said you wanted him. And then he saw you, laughing at something one of his idiot cousins was saying, jokingly pushing the guy’s shoulder, and he felt something odd stir inside of him. The only other time he’d felt it was when the Adlers joined MSBY at a bar after a game, and he’d seen Atsumu put his arm around your shoulders. He didn’t like it.

Without thinking, Kageyama abandoned the conversation he was having, leaving the girl behind as she glared at his back, making his way over to you.

You felt an arm wrapped around your waist, and you looked up, blinking when you saw Tobio. Miwa grinned with their cousin, who couldn’t help but tease, “Sorry, we were just keeping him company since you looked a little preoccupied.”

Tobio glanced down at you, and seeing your shy smile filled his chest with warmth. When he answered, he did so seriously, “I’m never too preoccupied for him.”

Dinner the second day was nice, even with Mei leering at who was supposed to be your boyfriend, until Miwa started questioning when your parents would be meeting Tobio. “Come on! Clearly you guys are getting serious if he brought you to meet all of us. He hasn’t even met your parents?”

“Heh,” you forced a smile, “My parents are fairly busy as company execs, they don’t have the time for things they don’t deem worth it.” You tried to laugh like you made a joke, but everyone looked concerned. Waving your hands you continued, “It’s not a big deal! I make my life on my own, that’s all. Don’t see ‘em much.” You really wished they’d let it go, but Miwa was repeatedly saying they needed to learn about you until you snapped, “They disowned me, okay!?” You stared at your hands as the words hung in the air, and with a deep sigh you continued without meeting Tobio’s worried gaze, “My last year of high school I finally told them. I wasn’t their perfect daughter,” you briefly heard a few gasps but pushed on, “I didn’t plan on pursuing the career they wanted to take over the company. My whole life I wanted to do a job like the one I have. And I just…wasn’t a girl.” You stood up from the table, hurriedly making your way back to your room. Locking yourself in the shower, you hated the way you’d reacted. You were just supposed to be here for Tobio. You could’ve lied and said he’d be meeting your parents soon. Instead you told the truth…and now he might be the one paying for it.

Sometime later, you finally exited the shower. Tobio wasn’t in the room, and you figured you should apologize so you went looking for him.

You hadn’t expected to find him like this.

As you walked into the sitting room of the bed and breakfast, you immediately backed up around the corner. Eavesdropping had never been an activity you encouraged, but you couldn’t help it when you saw the way Mei had Tobio backed into the wall.

“Come on! You can’t be telling me it’s actually as serious as you’re letting your sister believe.” You could see her batting her eyelashes up at him, and you felt that jealousy coil in your stomach again. “Just admit that you wanna be with a real woman for a change.”

You walked away when you didn’t hear him reply.

You were packing your bag a few minutes later when you heard him enter your shared room.

“Are…you leaving?”

You laughed without humor, “Yeah, you seem to be a little busy. Figured you wouldn’t notice.”

“What?” You glanced back to see his head cocked in confusion, “I always notice you.”

You choked on air, but the negative feelings you had were too strong, “Look, Tobio, I get you wanted me here for some reason, but that girl is all over you and you-“

“I wish it were you.”

“You- I’m sorry, what now?” Just like that, the negative feelings were entirely replaced with confusion and strangely hope.

You’d never seen Kageyama look as determined as he did right now, not even when he was on the court. “I- I saw you, when she said what she did. And I didn’t reply, because I didn’t want the first time you heard me say it be when I was telling it to someone else. I really like you, Y/N. I want you to be the one that hangs on my arm when I’m talking about something nobody is actually interested in. I want to be able to say you’re my boyfriend without lying about it.” Kageyama Tobio was a lot of things. He was driven, and focused, and damn near illiterate at times. But he wasn’t a liar.

You shook your head, shocked chuckles spilling out, “I can’t believe I got jealous for nothing.”

“You got jealous over me?” You glared softly at the smirk on his face before it turned into one the genuine smiles you rarely got to see, “I think I was jealous too. When you were talking to my cousin. You were laughing, and I was annoyed I wasn’t the one making you do it. And when you left the table earlier, I told my family that if they couldn’t accept you, it still didn’t change anything. I want you in my life as long as you’ll be there.”

“What if I wanna be there forever?” You asked curiously, hand tentatively reaching to cradle the side of his face.

“Forever sounds like a pretty good option to me.” You hadn’t realized how close he was until you felt the breathe of those words dance across your lips, and you slowly closed the rest of the distance.

The next morning, you chuckled to yourself as Tobio tried, in vain, to hide the hickey you’d left on his neck from his family’s teasing comments. And now when Mei tried to flirt with him, you’d happen to wander over and drag him away to join other conversations while she glared behind you. But you didn’t care. You finally had your chance.

Masterlist

#haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x trans reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama x trans male reader #Kageyama x male reader

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stygeanbluebasilsprout · 2 years

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Queued

This is a fictional story, I apologize because I didn't realize how the first paragraphs sounded without context. I am perfectly fine. Please reblog this version and enjoy!

Let me preface this by clarifying a thing. If you're reading this, I'm already dead. I'll queue this for tomorrow morning, and if nothing happens I'll take this down. If you're seeing this on your dash, it means I'm gone. If I can return... Idk, maybe I'll write a more detailed post with the answers to all of this, maybe y'all could just carry on like nothing happened. Maybe this post will not exist anymore and there is no need to tell you what I would do.

That being said, if I will have to say goodbye, the least I could do is doing it with style.

My name is Norman. All of you will already know me by my url, or maybe the pfp. "Look, it's trans Charizard again. What will he have to say this time". Mostly shitpost, alright? I didn't log in expecting to become a great artist. Sometimes, however, I liked to cut out a little scrap from my life and show it to you.

I started when my new life started. When I finally managed to get away from the horrible claws of my family and I settled in this little apartment. It was a small place, tucked away between the trees, where birds were more loud than traffic.

All things considered, it has been nice to get it without having to pluck out my eye to pay rent. It was crammed, yes, but at the time I didn't even have a bed. It was enough.

So, as my loyal followers may already know, life here was... peculiar.

It wasn't anything outright weird, more like little unsettling details, details on which the eye glided until they got caught, and once the eye caught them it couldn't let them go.

Typing them on here, in hindsight, makes me feel dumb, like if I was some horror movie dipshit that wouldn't move out of a clearly haunted house, trapped in his certainty that "GhOsTs ArEn'T rEaL" despite the furniture floating past him.

In my defense, my furniture didn't float. At least, I never saw it doing so.

There have been misplaced objects, though. A glass that got knocked over, a book I was sure I had put a bookmark in, my Waddles (yes, the Gravity Falls pig. Sue me) plushie popping up from the strangest places, like when I found it in the pantry, behind the pasta.

It was the least tbh.

Misplaced objects... they could be attributed to my ADHD. I came to terms with the fact that my things never seemed to stay where I put them when I was, like, six. After a while it sort of became a bit, in our family. So it wasn't exactly news. Even if Waddles in the pantry was a bit too much even for me. But hey, everyone lost track of their stuff sometimes, if they weren’t paying attention.

And, as I said before, it was the least. I mean, you saw my posts. At first I joked a bit about these teleportations, along the lines of "haha, look, my plushie loves pasta sooo much!". But, like, everyone who owns a cat knows that teleport is not impossible. "Yeah yeah, things that change places when they shouldn't, we've all seen it". Issues started coming after a few weeks.

At first, it was the golden leaves. I already said that my house was in the middle of the woods, right?

Well, it was around last April when they started making their appearance. I challenge everybody, everybody, to see a threat in a shiny, little golden leaf placed on the window sill.

They were really cool, by the way. Not even a little bit scary. Annoying, for sure. But not scary.

They made me curse every ancient god that watched over this Earth, though. I wouldn't get surprised if Cthulhu came knocking at my door asking why I was calling for them. For it was enough to leave the door a tiny tiny bit ajar for a freaking MOUNTAIN of leaves to make their entrance.

They defied physics. How the hell a metric fuck you of leaves could have come inside through an opening of an inch (measured) in less than half a minute is beyond me. But at least, broom and patience, and I swatted them away.

Now, I admit that maybe it was my fault, because if a normal person gets ATTACKED by leaves their first reaction is to find the tree those leaves come from.

It never crossed my mind, I swear. Not even when they started exploding.

Okay, maybe exploding is a bit of an overstatement. It's not like they went KABOOM and set things on fire.

It was just that as soon as I grazed them, even by blowing on them, puf! They turned into a little cloud of golden dust. And that mother-effing dust stuck! It didn't go away! Soon all my belongings were golden-leaf-dust-coated. I had a glittering house.

And if your first reaction is "Norman, normal leaves don't act that way" well, whoever you are, you may be an amateur botanist, but I know jack shit about trees. I wasn't gonna bother my landlord for a couple of leaves. It was my very first place of my own, I wasn't gonna act like a whiny baby. I think it would have solved a lot of problems, though.

Because then, around the middle of this January, it was the stains' turn. The streaks, the markings.

They started appearing in little spots, like little droplets of something. I didn't thought much of them, it was an old house in the middle of the woods, of course there would have been dirt here and there.

I found the first concerning one on the couch. It was a big, rough brown stain vaguely resembling a heart. Not a "❤" sort of heart, an anatomically correct heart with atriums and all. It had even the veins on it. It was a bit disturbing, I admit it. Maybe, a flying chair would have been a less noticeable warning.

However, it probably was just a Rorschach-like effect. Y'know, the test with the stains. It was just a puddle, but I thought it looked a bit like a heart and therefore was an anatomically-correct-heart-shaped puddle.

It was not the only rough brown stain I found. They didn't really bothered me, because, unlike that goddamned dust, they went away on their own. I had to clean off only the most visible ones. They just. Appeared. On the windows, the ceiling, at the bottom of the walls and on the floor, in the kitchen, on the mirrors, on my blankets, my clothes, even on the back of my binder. I felt a bit sorry when those disappeared, because they resembled two little bat wings.

If you followed me at the time, I'm sure you remember those pictures. How could you not? Some of them went viral, my notifications never recovered. I think that the rose on my bedsheets got reblogged by a heritage posts blog, like the "is this dress blue and black or white and gold?" meme.

By this point you are probably thinking "But Norman, at this point you must have noticed that something was wrong. Dirt doesn't appear and disappear, and it doesn't come in elaborate shapes." And you're right. I noticed that it was not right. I may be a skeptic, but until a certain point. But I'm not a moron. Except I was. Because it was just dirt. Dirt that came in beautiful patterns and went away on its own and it didn't bother me. So I pretended that everything was fine, it was normal, nothing was going on.

I am really, really a moron.

Because what happened next made me realize it was not dirt.

It was blood.

I... don't think I've ever posted the handprints on here. The heart, the rose, those little spots that looked like a constellation were all meant to get a laugh out of who saw them. Somebody even accused me of creating them myself, which, dear rando, thank you. It wasn't me. I can’t draw shit.

Handprints smeared on my kitchen were NOT, I repeat, NOT my doing. Why the fuck should I do such a thing? They were creepy as fuck, and I immediately got a hold of soap and sponge. The point is, they reappeared every time. I cleaned the glass panel, and the next morning I found two, if not more, different handprints.

Once there was one that had nothing better to do than flipping me off.

Very funny.

At a certain point I just gave up. The patterns always went away by themselves, I could suck it up and endure a "fuck you" by a stain on my window for a while.

Wrong. The second evening after my last attempt, at the start of September, they chose to up their game. Under my eyes, the substance they were made of slowly became dark crimson and wet and started dripping. I yelled and fell backwards, crashing over the table.

Quivering, I slowly crawled away from the window. I felt something wet on my fingertips, I must have hit my elbow in the fall. Instead of any kind of pain, it was disgust that clawed at my stomach. As I watched the trickle of blood on my forearm the memory of all the shapes came to mind and realization hit.

I've slept between those blankets, dammit!

I reached the sink and said goodbye to my breakfast. When my head stopped spinning, I grabbed soap and a rag and, in record time, cleaned off that nightmare from my glass.

Too bad that the nightmare just started.

This was the only place I had. I couldn't pack and just go. I should've done it, but I couldn't.

However, it was now time to bother my landlord. The sweet old lady that I talked to over the phone assured me she would come as soon as she could.

As soon as she could was a week later. That week was a nightmare. I tried to stay away from the house as long as I could. But I always had to sleep somewhere. And those nights... I don't want to talk about those nights. I was curled under my blankets, trembling and sobbing. Apparently, the 'dirt' stains now always came in liquid form. And I always woke up covered in golden glitter and red trickles, despite having a sheet all over me. Use your imagination.

When I finally greeted the sweet granny, I was in tatters. And glittering. As I said, the dried blood went away, the dust stuck.

For her, a single glance around was enough. She pursed her lips, and nodded solemnly. And told me that to solve this I had to leave something sweet as an offering, in the woods. Something like a cake, bread, cream, sugar, milk and honey.

Milk. And honey.

Are you FUCKING kidding me.

Apparently not, she was not kidding me. She looked extremely serious. And so I though, why not give it a shot? And after she left me I took a bowl, I filled it with milk and honey, and walked until I could find a good spot between the trees, where I left it.

The next morning I woke up unscathered. And when I went checking, the bowl was just shiny clean. Not even a drop.

So, a bowl of milk and honey in exchange for a night of peaceful sleep. And a clean house.

Poor fool that I was, I thought it could work.

This was three weeks ago. And, of those three weeks, just the first few days the milk worked. Because then, They wanted more.

Milk and honey, but with a spoonful of sugar. Slices of white, soft bread with butter and sugar. Mugs of coffee creamer and honey. Little cakes, like tarties and plumcakes. Sweets. Peppermints and toffee. And so forth.

Always more, always more.

And if the quota wasn't met, the blood returned. And the dust. And the misplaced stuff. And, between the trunks and branches, I could see lights dancing and hear soft laughter and singing, asking for more. More, more. More.

They just don't want to leave me alone. I can’t keep on living like this. I made my decision. I typed on here all of this story. So, now you all know. I have a kitchen knife shining next to me. Must sound more gutsy that it really is, but tonight I'm gonna march in the woods and make Them leave me alone.

It sounds so brave. But I'm not. I'm crying and shaking. My fingers can't stay still. There are tears on my laptop. I'm gonna die.

But anger is stronger. I-I will try to make Them stop. To make Them let me live my life. If it won't work, at the top of this story I left all you need to know. If things work out... I dunno. An update, maybe? A whole different story, maybe.

But now the story queued is this.

So, thank you, to all of my mutuals, for the time spent on this blue hell. I love all of you.

Goodbye

Norman

#if you saw the unfinished thing i posted by accident and left it there cuz i didn't notice haha no you didn't #i've spent a lot of time writing this; so i truly hope it will be good #and i hope there won't be any typos; i triple checked #there will be; i just know #but this story... i am kinda proud of how it turned out; ya know?#and; just as an experiment; i want to try to get out of my shell and tag it properly. just to see what happens.#my writing #please tell me what you think; because i had this in the making for a very long time #if you read until here; thank you; so much #bye :)#my little scrapbook collection #fey

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

Text

Love Languages

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T probably for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set post-MAG 22, with a coda post-MAG 159. Everyone is ND and everyone is trans because that’s just how my personal S1 Archives gang rolls.

CWs: Mentions of ableism and Martin’s mother. I’d say canon-typical worms but the worms don’t really come up except in passing.

I do not know anything about BSL, so I did not try to describe the signs.

Summary: A love language is not just about how you best show love and affection; it is also about the ways you best receive love and affection. And so, for someone like Martin, who shows love by going out of his way to help others, someone going out of their way to help him, well. What better way for him to realize just how loved he is?

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

The first time Martin went completely non-verbal after starting work in the Archives, it was the morning after giving Jon the statement about Jane Prentiss.

It wasn’t a surprising development, really. Martin didn’t go fully non-verbal that often, but when he did it was almost always a thing that started in the morning and lasted most of the day. Sometimes it wore off by the time he went to bed, sometimes it lasted until the next morning.

After his mother’s diagnosis, he’d been unable to speak for an entire week. That hadn’t gone over well--as much as his mother wanted him to be quiet, she didn’t like the “silent treatment,” as she called it.

Martin hated that she’d called it that, as though his non-verbal episodes were anything he did on purpose. Some days talking just felt like a chore; those days he could get by only forcing words out when he had to. But some days, the worst days, he just couldn’t talk. He could understand other people just fine, he could make noises, sometimes he could even hum. And he could definitely read and write. But speaking words, aloud? No. He could not speak, on these days, however much he may have wanted to.

As Martin grew older and learned more about himself, he learned words and reasons and coping mechanisms. He realized that some of the problem came from dysphoria and the longer he was on hormones the less often it happened. He realized that he was autistic (even if he never got diagnosed), and learned how to handle the episodes that still occurred. He took sign languages classes because it was a good and useful thing to know regardless, to be able to communicate with more people.

As many Deaf people had learned before Martin, he’d found himself in plenty of situations when nobody around him knew BSL, so he’d found a phone app that let him type out things he wanted to say and repeated them in a tinny, mechanical voice. Feminine, but he found it didn’t cause dysphoria; it wasn’t his voice. It was the app speaking for him, a robot lady translating his words.

Martin was fairly certain he was going to need the robot lady to speak for him today, and he was dreading the whole idea. The app got him a range of reactions from scorn to derision to faux sympathy. The last time he’d done so at work, the Institute library staff had regarded him with such pity that he’d called in sick the two other times it had happened since.

He’d woken early, because he was always awake fairly early, to ensure he looked presentable and got to work on time. He did not want Jonathan “Crisply Professional At All Times” Sims giving him that look again. The particular look that was “I highly disapprove of your sartorial choices but I’m not going to get into it right now because I have so very much else to do. Nonetheless, if I could fire you for what you’re wearing I would.”

Jon had a lot of looks. Martin fervently wished he could stop categorizing them; he very much disliked his boss, and very much wanted to stop thinking about Jon quite as much as he did.

Jon was attractive, that much Martin had noticed the first day he’d come in, with a jawline Martin would’ve loved to trace with his fingers, eyes sharp and deep and intelligent, salt-and-pepper hair that Martin would have tangled his fingers in gladly.

Except, of course, that Jon was also a prick who didn’t like Martin one bit and made that very clear. He’d put down on record that he thought Martin would “contribute nothing but delays.” Martin was not such a sucker for punishment that he would put up with someone who hated him just for a pretty face. The tiny potential blossom of a crush had been, well, crushed five seconds after it had poked its head above ground, by Jon’s declaration that he could dismiss Martin if he didn’t resolve the “dog situation” immediately.

Martin counted his lucky stars every day that Jon had not, in fact, dismissed him, despite having had to deal with a doggy mess. The luck was really in having Tim around, Martin figured; Jon actually seemed fond of Tim, and the other man had managed to smooth the entire situation over.

Martin had fallen asleep last night thinking about the new look Jon had given him yesterday: concerned. Truly, genuinely concerned, which had rather taken Martin aback. He’d been certain Jon wouldn’t believe him, would scoff and roll his eyes at the entire statement, and instead he’d just looked… concerned.

And then Jon had offered Martin the cot that he’d woken up in this morning.

It wasn’t the look of concern that had Martin non-verbal, though; of that he was certain. It was the stress of the last two weeks, and dumping out the statement yesterday, and all the whirl of figuring out how to live in the Archives. Jon’s insistence on going with him to pick up basics with a toothbrush at the convenience store, and then coming back to be sure he was okay. Jon finding clean sheets and discussing how he’d do his laundry. Jon had expensed clothing bought online to the Institute, including next-day shipping, because he’d “lost access to his flat and thus his wardrobe in the line of duty.” It had all been bewildering and overwhelming and it was no real surprise that Martin was in the state he found himself when he woke.

Martin had known as soon as he’d opened his eyes. It was just there, the feeling of nope can’t talk today. He’d pulled on his binder and the same clothing he’d worn the day before and then fumbled around for his phone. Which… he didn’t have. The damn worm-hive-lady had stolen it from him. Well, shit.

He managed to avoid having to figure out how to talk while he went out to get breakfast, just pointing at a scone in the display and smiling at the guy behind the counter as if he wasn’t secretly irritated by the price of everything in Chelsea. By the time Martin got back, Jon was already in his office, so thank God he’d avoided that awkward interaction. He went to make himself tea, and had his breakfast in the breakroom, and brushed his teeth, and then went to get started on…

Wait. He didn’t even know what they were working on right now.

Well, he wasn’t going to bother Jon about it; however nice he’d been last night it surely must have worn off by now, and Martin had no interest in summoning one of his boss’ looks this early in the morning. Normally he’d still be on his commute at this hour.

After a moment’s thought, he went to go see what they’d recorded in his absence, and soon had a stack of statements on his desk. They’d gotten through five statements in the two weeks he’d been gone. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe Martin did contribute “nothing but delays.”

Pushing the thought aside, Martin focused on listening to the tapes, and was just finishing up listening to the second half of Father Edwin Burroughs’ statement when Tim came into the shared office the assistants used.

“Hey, you’re in early. You get the email?”

Martin raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

Tim snorted. “Jon claims he’s got something to warn us about, something that ‘won’t parse properly through digital means.’” He rolled his eyes. “Which is Jon-speak for ‘it’s a weird thing and I don’t want to admit it’s a weird thing because I have to keep my skeptic hat on to preserve my self-image.”

Martin chuckled in solidarity, then gestured toward the door to Jon’s office, to indicate that’s where their boss was.

“Not coming?” Tim asked, his own eyebrow raised. When Martin shrugged, he said, “Well, I guess if you didn’t get the email…” Tim also shrugged, then said, “Guess I’d better get it over with. Wish me luck!”

Martin gave him a thumbs up.

When Sasha came in, Martin silently directed her to Jon’s office as well, then heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had to explain being non-verbal at all yet, and it was already nine o’clock. Maybe if he was lucky, Jon would warn them off talking to him and he’d manage to make it the entire day without having to explain the whole “non-verbal” business to anyone he saw on a regular basis.

Alas, it was barely thirty minutes later that Tim and Sasha returned to talk to him, both wearing expressions of mingled concern and guilt. When they spoke it was a flood of the usual, expected platitudes:

“We’re so sorry!”

“We didn’t know!”

“Are you okay??”

And such like.

Martin shrugged and nodded and shook his head in all the right places, and evidently Jon had played them the tape of his statement so he didn’t have to explain it all again (thank God), and he thought maybe, maybe he could even figure out what statement they were working on right now if he just listened to their chatter after they were done with the niceties, but then…

Well. Then Timothy Stoker happened.

Which is to say, Tim actually looked at Martin, and said, “You’re being awfully quiet. You sure you’re okay?”

And then he and Sasha just… sat there, looking at him expectantly.

Martin sighed and reached for a piece of scrap paper and wrote, I’m autistic and sometimes I go non-verbal. Today’s one of those days, but I don’t have my phone anymore, so no communication app.

As he held up the paper so the others could read the words, Martin braced himself for the ensuing reactions. Pity, probably, like those in the Institute library, and he couldn’t even call in sick to avoid it; he’d rather have scorn and derision. At least those reactions were honest.

What he got from them was not pity, however, nor even scorn.

Sasha hummed. “Autism explains a lot, actually. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem.”

Tim grinned and clapped Martin on the shoulder. “Yeah, why didn’t you just say so? It’s fine, you’ve been through an ordeal. And so you know--you’re hardly the only neurodivergent in the Archives.”

Martin blinked at Tim, then wrote: Wait, what? Who…?

“Would you believe me if I said all of us?” Tim said with a grin. “I have ADD, Jon’s… well… he’s Jon, and as for Sasha…”

Sasha sighed in fond exasperation and cut in, “Tim…”

“I contend that you cannot be neurotypical, Ms. James. You fit in too well around here.”

“I am not admitting to anything on Institute property,” Sasha said with aplomb. “And you shouldn't have either, but here we are.” She looked at Martin. “If HR finds out and they give you any trouble, let us know and we’ll figure out what to do.”

Tim, in the meanwhile, pulled out his phone. “Here, go ahead and use mine for now, until your replacement gets here or whatever. What’s the app so I can install it for you?”

Martin’s jaw had dropped open. Tim having ADD made sense; what did he mean about Jon, though? And Sasha? And what did Sasha mean about HR? And… and why were they being so… nice? So… understanding? It wasn’t an act, or at least he didn’t think it was. They seemed… genuinely fine with it. Accepting, even.

It was the strangest thing Martin had experienced in a while, and that was including the worm-riddled woman who’d stood outside his door for two straight weeks.

From there the day just… went on as normal. Tim installed the app on the phone, Martin’s robot phone lady spoke for him, the three of them did their work, and everything was fine.

Until, of course, the nature of their work reared its ugly head. They were discussing the statement of Leanne Denikin, case #0051701, which they had yet to attach a pithy name to; hence the discussion. It had long since become standard practice to attach a name to the “weirder” statements, to make them easier to discuss. (Jon insisted on using the case numbers on tape still, which was annoying, given that was the only place he did that.)

Martin was reading through the statement, and he typed into Tim’s phone: What do you think of this bit? “Be still, for there is strange music.”

What came out of the phone’s speakers, however, was garbled static followed by high-pitched screeching that startled Martin so much he actually dropped the phone.

Jon was walking in just as this happened; he stopped in the doorway, blinking. “What on Earth was that?”

“Martin’s robot lady gave Tim’s phone an aneurysm, I think,” Sasha said, eyeing Martin as well.

Martin scrabbled on the floor for the phone, pulled up the app (which had crashed), and typed, I don’t know what happened!! I was just typing in something from one of the statements!

Jon frowned at him sharply. “What are you doing with Tim’s phone? Are you quite well?”

“No, Martin is not ‘quite well,’” Tim said. “Non-verbal for the day.”

Then Jon did something that stunned Martin: Jon signed at him, specifically, “Do you know sign language?” He spoke aloud as he said this, too, but also raised his eyebrows and gave a quizzical tilt to his head to convey that he was asking a question.

Martin blinked rapidly, then signed back: “Yes, actually. But Tim and Sasha don’t.”

Jon nodded, then said aloud, along with signing, “Why are you non-verbal, exactly?”

“I have autism,” Martin signed. “Sometimes talking is overwhelming and sometimes, especially in stressful situations, I can’t talk at all. Woke up that way today. It should be gone by tomorrow morning.” Why was he explaining so much more to Jon than he had to the others? Maybe just because Jon knew sign, and thus could communicate in a language Martin found much easier than even the typing.

Jon frowned thoughtfully, then nodded again. Then, still speaking and signing both, “What were you typing into your phone?”

“Be still, for there is strange music. From the statement.” Martin gestured to the statement on his desk.

Jon’s frown deepened and he repeated the words. “‘Be still, for there is strange music….’” His expression went slack for a moment, and then he shook himself. “Right. Well. Just… just… I’ll be right back.” Then he abruptly turned and left the room.

Tim and Sasha exchanged bewildered looks. Then Sasha asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

“I forgot Jon knows BSL,” Tim replied thoughtfully. “Hard of hearing on one side. Not that he’d have agreed to interpret all day or anything.”

Martin shrugged. It’s alright, he typed. This works just fine.

“Well, no, obviously not for some things.” Jon had reappeared as suddenly as he’d disappeared, holding a small brown notebook the size of Martin’s hand. “Here,” he said, thrusting the notebook at Martin. “This will work better, for communicating about the statements. You needn’t use it with me, of course, unless signing is also taxing.”

Martin stared up at Jon. There was an entirely new look on his boss’ face. Not any level of scorn or sneer, nor even concern. He was… nervous. Fidgety. Like he was offering a gift that he was afraid might be rejected.

Something went flip in Martin’s stomach and it was like the entire world turned upside down. Suddenly, in light of Jon’s actions in the last 24 hours, he saw the way his boss had acted toward him the last six months for what it was: a defense mechanism. Armor pulled up around someone fragile and soft and sweet, someone so terrified of rejection that he went about making sure it happened preemptively so he wouldn’t be hurt.

Martin had a sudden, fierce desire to hug Jon and tell him everything would be okay. It was so bewildering a sensation--he didn’t even like the man! At all!--that he just took the notebook with a nod and a signed “Thank you,” eyes still very wide.

Jon nodded in return. “You’re welcome.” He let out a breath, and seemed to relax a little. “Well. Then. I think we’ve found the name for this one, given the way Tim’s phone reacted to those words. ‘Strange Music’ it is.” He straightened himself. “Tim, you said something about the organ reminding you of articles you’ve read…?”

Tim nodded, expression suddenly serious. “Yeah. I’ll see if I can find them for you.”

“Right. Well, then, Sasha, if I could ask you to look through the Archive like we talked about? I’m certain we’ve had a statement from Jane Prentiss.” Jon then turned to Martin. “And if you wouldn’t mind helping me with ‘Schwarzwald?’ You used to work in the library, right?”

Martin was still staring at Jon in confusion, but nodded.

Jon actually smiled at him. Faintly. “Well, then, I’m certain you must know where to find the German history reference books, if you could go grab whatever they’ll let you bring down?”

The strangest thing about it was, Jon seemed sincere. Like he actually believed Martin did, indeed, know the library well enough to just… go up there and find the German history reference books. The faint, confident-in-his-assistant smile was a new look, at least directed at Martin; he’d seen Jon look at Tim and Sasha that way many times before.

Martin’s stomach was doing cartwheels. There were butterflies taking up residence in his intestines. His heart was pounding. How had he never noticed how nice Jon’s smile was? Soft and small, like he was afraid to let it actually take up residence on his face for too long.

Oh, God, oh, no. Martin could not fancy his boss. Jon hated him. Or, well, no, evidence suggested that perhaps Jon did not hate him, but Jon most certainly did not fancy him. This crush had to disappear, just as fast as it had come. This would not do.

He was going to be writing poetry again tonight, wasn’t he? Crap.

“Martin?” Jon’s tone was concerned rather than sharp, and the way Jon said his name made Martin want to sink into the floor.

Instead, he scribbled furiously in the notebook and held it up so all three of the others could see: Yeah, sorry, was just thinking about where that’d be. I’ll bring them down as soon as I find them.

Jon practically beamed at Martin’s use of the notebook and he nodded briskly. “Right! I’ll be in my office when you have the books, then.” He started to turn away.

Martin’s heart went pound pound pound because oh wow Jon was really cute when he let that smile take up more of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, he made a noise to get the other man’s attention.

Jon turned around, quirking a brow. “Yes, Martin?”

Martin signed, “Tea?” He, too, raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to indicate the question.

Jon nodded. “Tea would be lovely, yes.” He smiled at Martin for a brief moment, and then suddenly looked flustered. He glared at them all. “Anyway,” he snapped in his ‘boss’ voice, the impact of which was ruined by the flush rising in his cheeks, “there’s still work to be done. So let’s… do it.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left the office.

Had Jon blushed because Martin had offered him tea? Did Jon like his tea that much? Was Martin imagining things? He had to be imagining things. He put his head down on the desk and wrapped his arms over it so he could grab at handfuls of hair. What was happening to him?

Sasha tried to make her voice serious, but couldn't quite manage it past quite clearly holding back giggles. “Mourn for poor Martin, working alone with Jon.” She looked at Tim. “We should call HR preemptively, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Nah, I think Jon’s softening on our boy,” Tim said with a laugh. He reached over to ruffle Martin’s hair with one hand while he took his phone back with the other. “Don’t worry, Marto. I told you he’d come around one day.”

Martin looked up at Tim with a stricken, betrayed expression. In the notebook: Is this how you comfort me in my hour of need??

Sasha shook her head. “For once, Tim’s being serious. You weren’t in the room when Jon explained things to us. He’s worried about you, he doesn’t want you to have to leave the Institute alone, he doesn’t want you to have to look for the Prentiss statement in case it’s ‘too traumatic’ for you to run across on your own. He actually asked us if we thought we should avoid any mention of Prentiss altogether in your presence.”

“I told him no,” Tim said. “I hope that was okay. You seem like you’d rather deal with trauma by facing it and figuring it out, rather than avoiding it entirely.”

Matin gaped at them. Really? he wrote. Jon’s… worried about me? Really? As if he hadn’t seen the evidence just now that Jon was, indeed… softening.

Tim gave Martin a very serious look. “I’ve told you before… I’ve known Jon, well, not as long as I’ve known Sasha, but for a long while now. He’s prickly and thorny, even to people he cares about, but that’s a front and I’ve said so. You just didn’t believe me.”

“In Martin’s defense,” Sasha put in, “Jon’s been awfully ‘prickly and thorny’ to him specifically.”

Tim put up a hand. “Oh, I agree. I have had words with our dear boss about the way he treats Martin, largely because I’m one of the few people he might actually listen to.” He looked at Martin. “I don’t want to take the credit, because it’s really been a remarkably fast turnaround, but I’d like to think I helped, a little.”

Martin frowned thoughtfully. Thank you, he wrote. If Jon’s at ‘I can stand Martin’ instead of ‘Martin is the source of all bad that happens in the Archives’ work might be… better than tolerable, for once.

“That’s the spirit!” Tim said with a grin. “Now, then, Jon did say to get back to work…”

Jon gave Martin another of those soft smiles when Martin brought in the tea, a smile which widened on seeing the stack of books he carried in right after. That afternoon, spent sitting and going through books and discussing the Schwarzwald statement, was the first of many they’d spend together, reading and talking and comparing notes.

Martin was feeling verbal again the next morning, but he kept the notebook. If nothing else, it was a good place to jot down poetry. And it came in handy when he found himself unable to speak the morning after Jane Prentiss’ attack on the Archives.

And the morning after Jon confronted him about his CV.

And the morning after Jon disappeared, leaving Jurgen Leitner’s body at his desk. (Martin blamed that on the corridors more than the body, really.)

Funnily enough, he didn’t need it the morning after the Unknowing. But he kept it with him that day all the same, the first gift Jon had ever given him, and one of the few things he had left of him with Jon in a coma.

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

When they reached Daisy’s safehouse in Scotland, Martin had hoped he’d somehow manage to dodge the threat of going non-verbal. He’d been the one to drive the car, over Jon’s protests; it was something to focus on, to keep him remembering he was alive and real. He’d clutched the wheel and driven north north north with Jon giving directions in the passenger seat.

Martin had finally figured out that it was the chance to stop and think about trauma that led to his being non-verbal, which was why it was almost always a thing that hit in the morning. Adrenaline would keep him running after a stressful event, and then he’d carry himself through the rest of the day trying to clean up whatever mess had been caused. But sleep was enough for his body and brain to both tell him to stop, to process, to deal with whatever he’d run into.

It was possible, in hindsight, that he’d gone non-verbal more than once since the Unknowing and just hadn’t noticed because he’d been barely interacting with anyone. He’d certainly had a bad bout the morning after his mother’s funeral, dealing with so much misgendering and fake smiles. And there had been more than enough trauma to try to process in the past year, so it must have happened before.

He’d just really, really hoped it wouldn’t now, because he didn’t want to put Jon through that. (Why he thought he was putting Jon through anything he didn’t really want to examine. It made him feel Lonely, and that was bad.)

At any rate, the realization of why he went non-verbal had led to him keeping busy in order to hold it off, in order to hold himself together. So he drove, and he puttered about the cabin poking into cupboards, and he talked to Jon, and he talked to the shop lady in the village, and he brought back food and made dinner with Jon, and everything was good and fine.

And then he woke up the next morning, in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, and he could not speak.

There was the smell of bacon and eggs and pancakes cooking, and Martin made his bleary way out into the main room of the cabin and peered at Jon, already up and dressed and cooking.

His boyfriend turned to look at him and smiled, one of those soft smiles Martin had come to love so much. “Sleep well?”

"Not really,” Martin signed. “I mean…” He gestured at his throat.

Jon nodded. “I figured you might feel that way this morning. I, uhh… hold on a moment, I need to….” He grabbed the pan of bacon and moved it off the heat, pulled a pancake off the griddle and deposited it on a plate, then turned off the stove and went to poke around in one of the bags.

Martin chuckled fondly. “What’re you looking for?”

Jon was still digging through his bag. “When I was grabbing essentials at the store, back in London, I was thinking, you’ve been through a lot, and the notebook I gave you before must be full if you even have it anymore. I know you were writing poetry in it, and… oh, here we go.”

Jon came up with another small notebook. This one was not plain and brown, the way the first one he’d gifted Martin all those years ago had been. This one was black, and had silvery stars on its cover that, as Jon held out the book and thus tilted it through the light, shimmered into rainbows.

“Just in case, you know, the shop lady doesn’t know BSL.”

Martin blinked at the notebook.

“It, uhh… I know it’s not your usual style,” Jon said, his voice suddenly nervous. He was looking down at the notebook as he spoke, instead of at Martin. “Not… retro. But… I saw it and I thought of you.” He paused. “That tape, where you were talking to Simon Fairchild. He talked about the ‘cosmic scale,’ and how we’ve never even been alive on that time frame, and you said… what was it? You said, ‘I think our experience of the universe has value. Even if it disappears forever.’ And I just… that was… maybe the most… it was very… you. And there were other options, flowers or cursive writing, o-or… I don’t know, they all seemed so obvious, but this…”

Jon swallowed, and finally looked up at Martin. “I thought, after the Lonely, you might like a reminder that, you have value. That… that to me, you shine as bright as any star.” And then he flushed, and Martin knew it was for him, just as he now knew the flushes about tea all those years ago had also been for him.

Martin was gaping. Oh. Oh. Jon… loved him. Which he’d known, intellectually, but the emotional knowledge of it hit him suddenly, took his breath away. He knew it, all at once, in that “oh we could spend the rest of our lives together” way he’d never really thought he’d ever feel.

Jon had clearly misinterpreted the expression; he started stammering, “I-if… it it’s bad, I can… well, no, I can’t take it back, stupid, I should’ve just grabbed the one that had--”

Martin cut him off by reaching out to take the notebook from Jon and reached out with his other hand to cup the shorter man’s cheek. He smiled, and because he’d realized long ago how well Jon responded to physical touch, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Then he pulled back to put the notebook aside on the counter and signed, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” A pause, and then, “I love you.”

Jon smiled, both speaking and signing, “I love you, too.”

And for once in his life, Martin knew that to be true, and trusted that knowledge. He was loved. He had been loved, and he would be loved for the rest of his life, whatever state his voice was in.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #archives gang #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #ableism tw #jmart #canon tma fic

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simpcxty · 3 years

Note

You said you needed ideas so hear me out-

Sfw- trans! Reader (ftm) with Tsukishima who gives tough love and hates it when you have really bad dysphoria days. Snaps at anyone who misgenders you.

NSFW- oikawa would be such a tease when you get needy and shit. Like this fucker would tease you after you beg because he told you to beg.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!! You have given me brain fuel, and for that. I love you 🧡

I have never written something in one day. Thank you, you have truly inspired me 😩👏

TW for Tsukishima: deadnaming and misgendering, deadname is your choice, but Y/n will be for your new name and Y/d/n for your dead name because no dads are mentioned here. Gets a little angsty but they figure it out.

I didn’t want to be disrespectful to anyone and choose a name that might be someone’s new name or dead name.

Also I’m sorry if my writing isn’t accurate for a ftm character. I did my best and I really hope you like it!

I did my best with the tough love but it does get a bit fluffy tbh.

Kei Tsukishima

Kei always tries.

He really does. You guys had started dating before you came out, and the switch from your dead name to Y/n had him caught off guard.

So did the sudden shift of pronouns.

But he didn’t leave, so he was trying to do his best all right?

But he’s already bad with emotions, these are a different kind that he doesn’t even know how to approach.

So he gives it the same energy he does with everything else.

Today though.

Something was very odd about today.

His normal words had you flashing him your best fake smile and turning away from him.

And trust me, he could tell the difference.

But for now, he chose not to comment.

Will it be one of those days today?

You didn’t like to talk about your Dysphoria but Kei always picked up on it.

Or at least he tried to.

He even had a custom made chest binder coming in the mail that should be here any day now.

But when you leave the room after Kei’s not incorrect but painfully blunt statement went straight to your very soul.

He replays the conversation in his head to see where he messed up.

He found himself doing that a lot.

‘I get that you’re trying Kei. It just sucks that other people don’t even bother.’

‘I don’t really think it’s that big of a deal. They’re stupid people who don’t even matter at least I’m trying. Imagine if I wasn’t?’

It made you question everything.

Did he even want to be trying?

Why are you being a nuisance?

Why are you putting him through this. He’s got much more important things to be focusing on as a senior in college this year.

You’re finally being true to yourself and putting him through unnecessary stress aren’t you? What is wrong with you?

All of these thoughts and more swarmed your head as you leaned against the bathroom counter trying to catch your breathing.

Stop it. Stop being such a big crybaby.

Kei Tsukishima doesn’t need a crybaby.

Why does it have to hurt so damn bad to just be a girl? He’d like you so much more as a girl.

“Y/n..?” His voice sounds so tired.

Damn it Y/n. Get your fucking shit together.

“Please talk to me.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that babe.. I just-“ his eyes almost seem dull when you open the door, only to brighten when you open the door and he gets a good view of you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just- I don’t, I don’t know how to handle this sometimes, but I don’t want you to think I don’t care. It’s just new, and I can get adjusted-“ he feels his heart clench a bit when your next words come out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I couldn’t just stay who I was, I’m sorry I couldn’t just be a girl for-“ and he’s grabbing your face with his palms as tears start to well up in his eyes.

“Shut up. Shut up, because I love you however I can have you. I love you. I just want you, please don’t get confused and think I have a preference because I just want you Y/n. I love you, no matter who you are. Please don’t forget that.” The tears streaming down your face slow as he kisses your head and wraps his arms around you.

“Im sorry Kei.” He kisses your head again.

“Shh, stop it. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for babe, we do need to finish getting ready for class though okay?” You nod and he smiles.

———

When you get to school, he can almost feel the anxiety wafting from you.

But he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around you and pull you along with him.

“You have me, okay? I’m just as much yours as you are mine babe.” You nod and expect him to pull him arm away, and he does, only to entangle his hand in yours.

“Tsukishima!” No- because he recognizes that annoyingly high pitched voice, and he’s not in the mood for it. Nor will you be.

So he picks up speed. Keeping his hand tight around yours and pulling you in front of him, only to wrap his arms around you slightly and speed up even more.

“Kei what are you doing?” You think he’s going to ignore you until he speaks up finally.

“Don’t want to deal with her.”

“Y/d/n can you-“ he stops right in his tracks and turns around to acknowledge the blonde.

“Alisa is it? See how easy was that? I wasn’t even sure. You know for a fact that isn’t the proper name that he goes by. So correct yourself, or don’t talk to my boyfriend or me. Got it?” She goes to speak again but Tsukishima already has you two walking again and his ears are flushed.

“Tsuki-?” You’re blushing and he tightens his grip on your waist.

“It wasn’t right, I’ll correct anyone who gets it wrong. Even myself.” You smiled and he manages to crack a small one.

Kei Tsukishima always tries.

———————————————————————

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD

I didn’t know if you still wanted a ftm character so this one is just written female.

READ RESPONSIBLY PLEASE

Characters aged up 18+

“Beg.” You scoffed.

“I don’t beg.” Your hips are rising as he pressed his thumb harder against your clit and you whimper.

“I won’t do anything more until you beg.” You rolled your eyes and attempt to sit up. Only for him to wrap a hand around your throat and push you back down.

“Toru, I don’t beg-“ he tightens his grip around your throat and you whine.

“I said, beg.” The way he demands it in your ear has your thighs attempting to clam shut.

Key word, attempting.

“Are you gonna listen to a single thing I say princess? Or am I gonna have to leave you here like this?” You looked up at him desperately and his grip around your neck loosens a bit.

“Please, please just fuck me already. I need it Toru, it’s been too long please just do it already-“ you’re cut off with whines as his tip prods at your entrance, but the pressure on your clit is still hard and you know he’s waiting for more.

“Please! Please fuck me! I need you Toru please!” He chuckles and pushes in agonizingly slowly.

“Like you said babe, it’s been too long. I need to go easy on your pretty pussy.” You whine at that.

“Don’t want you to go easy- just fuck me rough please!” Tears of frustration pool in your eyes and he laughs.

“Awe, don’t cry princess, I’ll give you what you want. You begged so nicely.” The sudden snap of his hips has you unable to respond to his taunt.

Yeah so what you begged. You’re getting dicked down by this god of a man. I’d say that’s a win.

His hands were both on your hips now as he thrusted into as if his life depended on it.

“Missed you so much.” He whines and a particularly hard thrust has you reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.

The new position has you sliding down on his dick so much easier, and the way he can just lift you up and down quickly has him whining more.

“M’gonna cum. Off.” He whimpers as you tighten and start to lift yourself off and grabs your hips. He’s never cum so fast but you don’t mind.

“T-Toru-!” He gasps as you tighten more and his hips thrust up desperately.

“Nevermind, I wanna cum inside. Please, please let me cum inside. You feel so good, just wanna cum inside your warm pussy hnngh~ please!” His hips are starting to falter and you know he’s getting closer as his hands tighten around your waist, lifting you up and down to meet with his sloppy thrusts.

“Please!” He’s begging and you almost laugh.

“Oh god please, just wanna cream inside you please!” He has to stop thrusting and you’d almost think he did cum.

But you knew better. His nails digging into your hips and his ragged breathing against your neck has you melting.

“Did you even really have to ask? Just cum babe.” Your words are so nonchalant that he’s whining and picking up his thrusts again.

“fuckfuckfuckohfuckyes” his voice is messy and it’s almost gibberish.

But as you tighten around him and his hips falter he’s moaning and whimpering into your chest and neck.

“So tight, ngHh shit~” he moans whorishly as you cum around him and cum spurts out of him and into you.

“You fuck me so good. So so good Y/n.” His hips are still sputtering and you’re wondering just how long it’s been since he’s actually gotten off.

“Thank you, Thank you so fucking much baby.” His cum is already spilling out of you and he’s still finishing.

This’ll be a fun cleanup.

He finally lays you down on the bed and lays his head in between the valley on your chest as he catches his breath.

“You begged.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer, making you whimper while he stays inside of you.

“Do I need to remind you how you sounded when you wanted to cum Toru?” His head shoots up at that and his cheeks flush.

“But you’re so warm. So tight and comfy. I didn’t and still don’t want to leave.” He whines and wiggles his hips upward and you whimper. You can’t help but clench as he thrusts up again and whines again.

He keeps up the occasional thrusts. Neither of you have the energy for a second round. That much is obvious. But the bliss is overwhelming.

“Don’t want to pull out yet. Please don’t make me.” He whines and you just clench around him to tease.

“Fuck. Don’t do that. M’still hard and I’m ninety percent sure if you keep doing that I’m gonna stuff your already full pussy again.” You hummed and he wraps his arms around you.

“Empty threats. We’re both too tired, you know we’ll just go again when we wake up.”

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” He says it confidently, you couldn’t even laugh at the statement. Because he probably and most definitely will.

“I mean if that’s what you want, I wouldn’t mind having a little Oikawa running around.” Almost all his stamina is back in that moment.

Congratulations you have unlocked

Breeding King with Toru Oikawa 🔓

Neither of you ended up sleeping that night.

#oikawa smut #tsukishima fluff #ftm reader #haikyuu!! smut #slight angst #body dysphoria #tsukishima angst #god theyre so pretty

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oakleaf--bearer · 3 years

Text

@jonmartinweek day two - injury!

also on ao3

When dealing with matters of the heart, Jon was about the furthest from a natural that there could be.

He was... rusty to say the least. Awkward was a generous way to put it. Completely and utterly useless was far more accurate.

So when Georgie had laughed and asked when he and Martin had started dating, he had been understandably taken aback and politely asked her what she meant by that. ("Georgie, what the fuck?" had been his exact wording). She'd shrugged and patted his knee, telling him that he should probably talk to Martin as soon as he got back to the Institute.

He stared down at the ring sat on the table, a frown creasing his forehead. It had been something of a whim purchase. He had bought it several years ago after reading about the concept online, and he'd just....not taken it off. Every time it left his hand, he'd itched to put it back on as soon as possible.

And now, a blistering burn mark on his hand was stopping him from putting it back on. A small, mostly insignificant piece of his identity stripped back and taken away from him.

A gentle knock at the door startled him out of his quiet contemplation.

"Hello." Martin poked his head around the door. "Tea?"

"Thank you, Martin."

Martin smiled, and Jon remembered Georgie's assumption. Would he? It wasn't the most unimaginable thing in the world. Martin was friendly. Charming, comfortable, welcoming. But dating? Maybe... But Jon had done dating before. He'd explained what the ring in the table meant to enough people that he was tired. Tired of the assumptions, the questions, the idea that there was one person out there who would change his mind, all he needed was a good-

Martin wasn't that person. When Jon ran through the mental 'relationship checklist', he could imagine so many different aspects with Martin. Holding hands, going on dates, even waking up next to each other, but that particular facet of a relationship was completely unimaginable. It wasn't that Martin was unattractive, simply that Jon just didn't see the attractiveness like that.

"What's that?" Martin gestured to the ring.

"Oh, uh, nothing." Jon covered it with his good hand. "Just a- nothing."

"Riiight." Martin placed the tea on his desk, in easy reach. "Keep your secrets then."

"Hmm." Jon hummed, still examining Martin's face.

"Jon? You alright?"

"Oh!" Jon realised he was staring and quickly looked away. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Martin said with an audible smile that made Jon's heart do something ridiculous.

"Martin..." Jon didn't really know what he was going to say. "Are you- I- Hmm."

"Take your time."

"Have lunch with me. That is, if you want to, please don't feel like I'm pressuring you, you can say no if you-"

"Jon." Martin put a hand on his desk, gentle, a calming reminder of a calming man. "I'd love to."

Jon stared at the hand. It was larger than his own. When he'd arrived back in the archives, trailing blood and exhaustion behind him, Martin had sat and re-wrapped the clumsy bandages he had put on it, patiently telling him off for not going to a doctor and getting it checked. Jon hadn't been able to look away from his hands then either, just gazing at them with sleepy eyes, his mind fixed on the image of Martin taking care of him. Carefully picking up the pieces he had left flung about the place and putting them back together, gently slotting them back into place.

Martin took him to a sandwich place around the corner from the institute. Jon stared at the menu, trying to decipher the swirling font. The letters swam slightly as he read them, the words jumbling together.

“Jon?” Martin bumped their shoulders together lightly, bending down to Jon's height to compensate for the difference. “What are you going to order?”

“I- What do you recommend?”

Martin smiled. “Hmm. How about the tuna and sweetcorn? It’s a classic, you know?”

“Sure.”

Martin ordered for them and nudged Jon towards a table in the corner. Jon went willingly, content to listen to Martin chatter away about the wait times and the various bouts of people-watching he had gotten up to in this cafe. Despite Jon’s lack of contributions, Martin seemed to be fine carrying the conversation on his own. A couple of people gave them odd glances, no doubt wondering what Martin, kind, gentle-looking Martin, was doing with a grumpy sack of exhaustion. Externally, they didn't match. They were diametrically opposed, two entities that shouldn't exist in the same space without causing some kind of epoch changing event.

But the more Jon pondered it, the more he realised that he wanted to be here, sat opposite Martin, listening to him talk, letting him order his sandwiches and hold his hand-

Jon’s brain skipped a beat.

Martin had placed his hand over Jon’s where it rested on the table and was staring at him, concern across his face. “Jon? You okay?”

‘I care about him’, Jon realised with a start. ‘This is my friend.’

Martin nudged his hand around so that he could properly take it in his own. The motion dislodged the ring that Jon still held clutched in his bandaged fingers. It clattered out, its black outline stark against the faded beige of the tabletop.

“Oh, sorry.” Martin picked it up to hand it back to Jon. “You might want to be a bit more careful. You don't want to lose this.”

“What?” Jon stared down at Martin’s hand. It felt ridiculous to see Martin holding out his ring and for Jon to feel this weightless. The gentle curl of Martin’s fingers around the band set Jon’s mind whirling down avenues lined with graffiti reading ‘Just tell him’ and ‘Maybe it will go well’.

Jon took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“I’m sorry, Martin.”

Martin blinked. “R-right? What for?”

“All of it.” Jon reached out and covered Martin’s, still holding Jon’s ace ring up in front of them. “You were always- I’m glad you're here. With me.” He carefully took the ring and let go of Martin’s hand. It looked shockingly sad sitting in the palm of Jon’s bandaged hand. Another piece of who he was now associated with pain. An uncomfortably familiar reality that Jon was steadily becoming used to.

Martin reached across the table and gave Jon’s hand a quick squeeze. Jon hissed at the jolt of pain lacing up his arm.

“Oh god, Jon, I’m so sorry, I didnt- I didnt think, that was stupid of me-” Martin’s hands fluttered in the air around Jon’s. “God, that was awful of me, I’m really sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Jon said, grabbing at Martin with his uninjured hand. “It’s fine, it's already passed.”

Martin gave him an apologetic smile, but didn’t argue. “That’s important to you, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. I’ve seen you wear it a lot. Does it mean something?”

“Oh.” Jon hadn't considered the possibility that Martin might be aware of the ring's existence. In his head, it existed in a bubble, separate from work and his colleagues. It made sense, he supposed, that Martin was able to see into that bubble, since its edges had been bumping against Jon’s perception of Martin for a little while now. “It, ah, its a- Its a sexuality thing.”

To Martin’s credit, he didn’t even blink at the idea that Jon might not be straight, just nodded and smiled encouragingly. “I thought so. Asexuality, right?”

“Wha- Yes.” Jon had been gearing up to explain the intricacies of asexuality, not for Martin to already have that knowledge.

“It came up when I was doing research trying to figure out my own sexuality.”

That caught Jon off guard. For some reason, throughout all of his deliberations trying to figure out where on Jon’s internal spectrum Martin sat, he had failed to consider the actual real life possibility of Martin’s queerness. “You’re-”

“Oh, I’m not ace.” Martin shook his head. “At least, I don't think so. Labels,” he chuckled. “Confusing stuff. I usually just go with gay and trans to sum me up.”

A small, overlooked lightbulb in the back of Jon’s mind flickered to life as a couple of pieces of information fell into place with a quiet ‘oh!’

“I saw the ring but I didn't want to ask in case it was just a style thing. A lot of people don't know about this stuff and it's sometimes hard to tell, you know?”

“Right.”

“I guess the bandages stop you wearing it, right?” It was a non-sentence, a piece of idle observation that Martin was making. But it still stung.

“It feels somewhat ridiculous to say but- I think I’m going to miss it. It’s just a ring, it's not my entire sexuality, I’ll still be ace without wearing it, but I’m still- It feels like I’m missing a piece of something that I was trying to hold onto, you know?”

Martin nodded. “I understand. Here-” he reached up and unclasped a thin chain that had been hanging around his neck. “You can borrow this. I’ll take these off for now.” He slipped off a couple of charms that had been hanging on it. Smiling, he held out the chain.

“You- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Martin wiggled the chain in the air between them slightly. “You can give it back when your hand is better.”

Wordlessly, Jon took the chain and looped the ring onto it. He lifted to try and fix the clasp around his neck, but he couldn't get the clasp open. Martin pushed his chair back, coming to stand behind Jon, taking the chain out of his hands and closing the clasp for Jon.

“There.” Martin smoothed Jon’s collar down. “That looks nice!”

“Thank you.” Jon whispered, then louder, “Thank you, Martin. This- This means a lot.”

Martin shrugged a little awkwardly, cheeks turning red. “No trouble. It means a lot to you, so, you know, you should be able to carry it with you.”

He smiled down at Jon, and once again Jon felt the small jolt of recognition, of comfort. The bubble in his mind fully merged with Martin, creating something new that, at least for a few more long, exhausting months, Jon didn't know to call love.

#tma #the magnus archives #my fics

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its-spelt-hermaeus-mora · 3 years

Text

Transmasc Joy headcanons part two because fuck it I say so.

- The team had a general consensus of "Oh wait what okay this is what we're doing now"

- Joy first started questioning his gender at a pretty young age but buried those thoughts until he joined the team.

- Said thoughts reappeared when Dallas pat him on the back after a heist and said "Good job, boys." Joy went to his van after the heist to relax and had a moment of "mmm boy :)"

- Joy had been super nervous to come out. The team pretty much saw him as "the hacker girl" so he didnt know how/if he could change their perception. And of course he was scared that he was gonna be kicked out.

- He told Bain first. He had heard Bain make jokes about his own transition in the past so he felt comfortable. He asked Bain to tell Dallas for him, as he was extremely nervous.

- Dallas was super supportive but tried to keep it hushed until Joy was comfy telling the whole team. He knows how sometimes people wanna keep their identity secret.

- He had sat down with Joy one day after a heist and just went "Okay how do I help you feel more comfortable at the Safehouse and with our team?"

- The nickname Dadlas was not dropped after this instance. In fact, Dallas could swear he hears it more often now.

- Naturally, Chains, Wolf, and Hox were the next to learn. Dallas got them all in a room and walked in with Joy like a parent bringing his kid to a board meeting.

- Joy was hella nervous cause these are some. Pretty scary guys.

- Wolf and Hoxton didn't know how to react, they knew Bain was also trans but they didn't really remember that often.

- I'd like to think Chains grew up in a household where he was taught "No matter what, you respect people if they respect you."

- So he was the first to speak up.

- "Alright, cool. Is there a new name you want us to use for you?"

- After the conversation, Wolf pulled Joy aside and went "Okay listen Hox and I fully support you we've just never been in this situation before so we don't know what to do."

- The garage gang learned next. Joy always felt comfy around Sydney, she just had the air of "do no harm but take no shit" so Joy felt at home around her.

- Rust was a little confused, but once Joy said "It just means I'm a guy now." He went "Oh okay." And went back to work.

- Houston immediately registered Joy as a little brother figured instead of a little sister and told him "If theres anything you need help with, let me know, we'll figure it out."

- Jiro and Jacket found out on accident.

- Jiro had been waiting for Joy outside his van and overheard a convo Joy was having with Bain about being scared to fully transition due to his circumstances.

- Jiro had done some research on the phrases he heard Joy use and just went "Wait is Joy not telling me something??" So thats when he had the aforementioned sit-down with Joy (see Trans Joy previous post)

- He was scared Joy would end up like Kento, but in a way he was sort of thankful. He considered Joy sort of a second chance, and he wasn't gonna lose this kid.

- Jacket found out when Dallas tasked him with finding Joy right before a heist.

- Joy had often stayed in his van purely because its where he felt the most comfortable (Also He's used to living out of his car but thats a set of headcanons for a different time)

- Jacket had opened the van and saw Joy in a pair of jeans and his binder, having just woken up and was still getting ready for the day.

- He kinda just shut the door but later Jacket gave him a thumbs up and hasnt been hostile so thats a win in Joy's book.

- Headcanon that Wick has an impeccable gaydar so he just knew.

-"I'm trans." "I fucking knew it."

- Sangres offered to throw a party when Joy came out to him.

- Joy had a moment of "Oh God how am I gonna pay for health insurance??" Because until now he never really needed it.

- Duke found him in his van worrying and he just sighed and went "Joy. We rob banks. Money isn't exactly an issue." "Oh shit yeah you're right."

- Hoxton and Clover physically dragged Joy out to go get better-fitting suits.

- Bain starts sending transtape to the Safehouse regularly because he doesn't want Joy wearing a binder during a heist.

- Joy programs his mask to display the trans colours during the month of June

- The gang doesn't go all out for Pride Month due to a lot of them being somewhat nervous to, but during June, if you look close enough, you can see that the masks of the Payday gang look a little more colourful (thanks to Sydney).

Also, random hc: Bain does his injections on his stomach and Joy does his on his thighs.

#payday 2 #payday #headcanon #joy payday #too many characters to tag ;-;#transmaculine #trans

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bedbellyandbeyond · 3 years

Photo

Mario Kart Double Dash

(Story Post)

Theo and Henderson were both at the former's apartment watching TV when his phone went off. Unfortunately, he'd left it on the kitchen counter and it wasn't easy to move from the couch now that he was 16 weeks pregnant with alien quadruplets. “I got it,” Henderson said getting up to swipe the phone and handed it to Theo. “Merci,” Theo said as he took it and checked the caller ID. He was surprised to see it was Korsy. He answered it. “Hello?” “Theo, you home?” “Yeah.” “Okay, I'm coming up.” “Do you need me to open the balcony door?” “No, I'll take the elevator,” Korsy said. “Just buzz me in?” “Yeah, for sure.”

A few minutes later Korsy was knocking on the door. Henderson let him in. Korsy's usual smirking nature had dissolved into a more frantic and nervous demeanour. He waved to Theo on the couch. “Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?” “No. Would it matter?” Theo sighed. “Are you alright, man?” Henderson asked putting a hand on Korsy's shoulder. “You look pale.” “No, I'm fine…” Korsy said, scratching the back of his head. No one was convinced. “Theo, how have you been?” Theo shrugged. “No more morning sickness. Not in a while, anyway…” “Well, that's good!” Korsy said. He patted Henderson's back. “And I imagine you're taking good care of him?” “Doing my best.” He closed the door behind Korsy. “Are you hungry?” “No, no,” Korsy said. “Have you eaten recently?” Henderson added. “Do you have allergies or dietary restrictions?” “I, uh, no, not really and no,” Korsy said. “But I'm not hungry, it's okay.” “Alright.” Henderson went into the kitchen anyway and started heating up a bowl of stew. “Come sit,” Theo said. “Talk to me.” Korsy went over and sat down, although he still didn't seem particularly relaxed. “You need to tell me what's up,” Theo said. “You are clearly upset about something.” “Yeah, well, I, uh…” Korsy took a deep breath. “Um, I have a friend I've been, you know, getting benefits from and we're not serious or anything, but uh…” Henderson came back and placed the bowl of stew in Korsy's hands before going and sitting down himself. “Eat.” “Oh, uh. Thanks.” “Don't mention it.” Korsy took a moment to try some of the broth. “This is very good.” “My mother sent it over,” Henderson said. “Tell her she's an incredible chef,” Korsy said. “I will. Now, please continue. What's this about a friend with benefits?” “Right…” Korsy scratched the back of his neck. “We didn't know it was possible, but I might've…gotten him pregnant.” Theo's eyes widened. “Oh my god, really?” “How would you believe it wasn't possible?” Henderson asked. “Is he trans?” “No, he's cis. That's why we didn't think it could happen,” Korsy said. “How did it happen, then?” Theo asked. “Or ‘maybe’ happen.” “It's kinda weird and complicated,” Korsy explained. “But he accidentally ate something he shouldn't have and it gave him a womb and now he doesn't want to talk to me and I don't know what to do.” “Um, what in the world did he eat?” Henderson asked. “Alien made stuff,” Korsy said. “You don't have to worry about it. APID has it now. Probably will study it then destroy it.” “Okay, as long as it's not like some weird new mango or something,” Theo said. “Although, do they have to destroy it?” Henderson said. “I bet some transwomen would love that. Even some cis gay couples trying to have kids.” “Well, they are studying it,” Korsy said. “Too untested and unregulated as it is right now.” “Yeah, that's fair,” Henderson said. “Well, you don't know yet for sure if he's pregnant, right?” Theo said. “It could just be a close call.” “That's what we're hoping,” Korsy said. “But, I just… I don't want this to ruin what we have going on. At first it was just sex, but I feel like we're becoming good friends, like you and me.” “I've met you like three times,” Theo said. “That's a lot for me, to be honest,” Korsy said. “I'm away so much, if I want to make friends, it has to be quick.” “Also fair,” Henderson said. “Well, if you're going to be my friend, you have to understand that you don't leave my house hungry.” “This isn't your house,” Theo argued. “Wherever I am is home,” Henderson stated. “You certainly act like it…” Theo said. “Oh hush, you love that I feed you,” Henderson said, patting Theo’s belly. “Your mom feeds me,” Theo argued as well. “That's only sometimes. I cook for you.” Henderson turned back to their guest. “Korsy, don't you wrap it up?” “I do when there's, you know, a vagina involved. Or if they're not tellurian,” Korsy said. “Otherwise, it's whatever they want. Elves don't get STIs.” Henderson looked to Theo again. “Can you confirm?” “Confirm what?” Theo huffed. “I don't know if elves get STIs!” “No, you two almost boned,” Henderson said. “Did he wrap it up for you?” Theo blushed. “Oh. Uh, yes he did. Can we not talk about that? That was so embarrassing…” “What? It's nothing to be embarrassed about,” Henderson said. “You seduced an elf.” “Hardly, he seduced me,” Theo said. “I am certainly attracted to you,” Korsy admitted. Theo pulled a blanket over his head. “Seriously, this is too much…” “Elves certainly seem to like you as much as you like them,” Korsy said. “Considering how many you keep in company.” Henderson frowned, eyeing Korsy. “You're not still on about me being an elf?” “You're still denying it?” Korsy inquired. “I'm not an elf!” Henderson exclaimed. “The thing is, you are though,�� Korsy stated. Henderson threw up his hands. “Fine, prove it then.” “Okay.” Korsy put the bowl of stew on the table, a smug grin crossing his face. “Have you ever been sick?” Henderson shrugged. “No.” “Are your ears very sensitive to touch?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t they all?” “Do you have a hard time growing body hair?” Henderson smirked. “No.” Korsy waved a hand. “That's neither here nor there… You're part human anyway.” “I'm all human,” Henderson stated. “Do you resonate with any one or more elements of nature?” Korsy continued. “For example, animals, water, ores, gemstones, fire, wind, the moon, the sun, the stars, etc.” “Define resonate,” Theo piped in. “Is it like a glow or something?” “No, it's like… Well, for me, I have a good bond with magical animals,” Korsy said. “Anyway, it's hard to explain. It's a really strong pull towards those kinds of things. And them to you.” “I can't think of anything like that,” Henderson said. “What about people?” Theo asked. “Henderson's really good at attracting a crowd. People always want to hear his stories and hang out with him at work and stuff.” “That's called being an extrovert,” Henderson stated rolling his eyes. “I mean some magical creatures have a way with people, but mostly demons and sirens,” Korsy said. “Demons are real?!” Theo gasped. “Oh, yeah. But don't worry about them. You're not surprised about the sirens, though?” “He met a mermaid already,” Henderson said. “At that pregnancy group.” “No, he's my case worker,” Theo said. “Oh, right! Fay!” Korsy recalled. “Yeah, Fay's cool.” “We are way off topic,” Theo re-centred. “Right.” Korsy stood up and held his hands out, palms up. “All these questions don't really matter as much as the physical. Stand up, Mr Neil. Lift your arms.” “This is stupid,” Henderson said but Theo nudged him and he got up reluctantly. “Hurry up.” “I said lift your arms,” Korsy said. “Also, it's easier with your shirt off.” “You're lucky you're cute...” Henderson stripped down to his waist and put his arms up. “What, might I ask, are you looking for?” “Elf mark,” Korsy said. “Don't worry, There's only three possible ones below the belt and they're very unlikely considering already what we know about you, so I'll only look for those ones if I don't find any other one.” “Well, you won’t so I might as well undo my drawstrings…” Henderson stated. “Also, I have a lot of ‘marks'. Even if you think you found something, it's probably my condition.” “Elf marks are very specific. It’s not gonna look like a skin condition.” Korsy took out his phone to cross reference a photo he had from a book he wasn't allowed to read, let alone photograph. He checked under Henderson's armpits first. “Not an aquatic elf...” He turned out both of Henderson’s palms. “Not wood or wild.” “How many are there?” Theo asked. “Uh, several,” Korsy said. “About nine, I think?” He went behind Henderson and sighed. “Darn, not Avariel. That would've been unlikely, but so cool...” “What are Avariel?” Henderson asked. “Winged elves,” Theo said excitedly, pulling himself up off the couch so he could look too. “You do know your stuff,” Korsy said. “Anyway, they're long gone.” Korsy pushed forward Henderson's ears to check behind them. “Not Star or Lythari.” “What's left?” Theo asked. “Just Drow, Sun and Moon,” Korsy said. “I don't think he'd be drow, but we'll check anyway. Pants off.” “Are you serious?” Henderson huffed. “You can keep your panties on,” Korsy shrugged. “Just need a look at the inner thigh and then your butt.” “Let me guess, Moon is on the butt?” Henderson sighed. “…Listen, I don't make this stuff up. It's ancient,” Korsy said. “I can assure you, there's nothing there,” Henderson stated. “How often do you look at your butt?” Korsy asked. “Probably a lot,” Theo said. “He has a nice butt.” “I have a nice butt,” Henderson concurred. “Well, we can check the Sun first if you want,” Korsy said. “Not much hope for that one though, but we'll see.” “Where's that one?” Theo asked. “Sole of the foot,” Korsy said. “My feet are completely vitiligo at this point,” Henderson said. “Even if there was something there, it'd be gone.” “Humour me,” Korsy said. Henderson grimaced, but he sat down and put his foot up on the coffee table. “You better not have a foot fetish or something.” “I'm just taking a look, I'm not taking pictures,” Korsy said. “You didn't say ‘no'.” “I don't have a foot fetish,” Korsy stated. “Frankly, it's the last place I want to look. I'm a butt guy.” He went around the coffee table and picked up Henderson's foot before putting it down. “Hm. Other one.” Henderson switched feet, and then Korsy's eyes lit up. He picked up the other man's foot and wiped at it with his thumb, checking in case what he was seeing was dirt. “What?” Henderson groaned in annoyance. “Ha, you're walking on sunshine, baby!” Korsy said in delight. “You have to be kidding...” Henderson pulled his foot back so he could get up and try to look at his sole. Right on his heel, he saw the little circle of spots with little dots around the outside, mimicking solar flares. “What the hell...” Theo spread his arms. “Oh my god, you're a Sun Elf!” Henderson exhaled in frustration and put his foot down. “I...ugh, this is dumb...” “Sun elves are pretty incredible, I'm not gonna lie,” Korsy said. “I didn't suspect them, but it wasn't impossible. The whole extrovert thing makes sense though. They're very civil and good with magic.” “Are you happy now?” Henderson snapped. “You figured it out. Now what? Do you like me more knowing I'm an elf?” “Whoa, man. Chill,” Korsy said. “It's not like that at all. Just wanted to help you discover something new about yourself. Don't you want to know your background?” “No! I knew my background!” Henderson exclaimed. “I was proud to be what I was! What I knew! People have always tried to tell me that being who and what I am was bad, secondary, unimportant. They wanted me to be something else! But I made myself love me and my skin! I love my black heritage! I don't need to be anything else! Do you understand that?” “I'm not trying to take any of that away from you,” Korsy said. “But, I'm sorry, man, I... I don't know, I thought you'd want to know.” “I've said I didn't want to know,” Henderson reminded. “I don't need you to think for me.” “I'm sorry. I thought...” Korsy didn't know what else to say. “Did you, though? Did you really think?” Henderson asked. “I only let you do this because you're going through some shit right now and you needed a distraction. But this is too far.” Korsy crossed his arms. “Look, man. I said I'm sorry. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't appreciate you insulting me." “Oh, fuck off, honestly,” Henderson said. “I'm done with this.” “You agreed to do this.” “I didn't think you'd actually find anything!” Henderson spat. He went to the door and started pulling on his shoes. “What, you're just leaving?” Theo asked, waddling over. “I'm sorry, Theo. I just gotta go,” Henderson said. “No, this is my fault.” Theo apologised. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have encouraged him...” “It's fine, okay?” Henderson said opening the door. “I still... I need to breathe.” “Okay...” “I will call you.” “Okay.” Korsy went to follow Henderson. “Listen, let's just talk about this.” “No. Stay here,” Henderson said, stopping him with his hand. “You and Theo can geek out about elf shit and whatever. I gotta go.” “Alright, dude...” Korsy sighed. “I am sorry. Really.” Henderson backed out and just shut the door. “Shit...” Korsy groaned and went back to the couch. He covered his face. “Fucking hell... Am I just pushing away everyone today?” “It's okay... Henderson will calm down,” Theo said, coming back and sitting down. “I think it's just a lot for him to take in... And you didn't push your friend away. Everyone needs time.” Korsy took his hands away and his eyes were tearing up. “I just... I don't want people to be miserable. Not because of me.” “No one wants that, but honestly, they won't be,” Theo said. “I mean, I've been pretty fucking miserable lately, but I do think I’ll get through this... You'll get through this and so will they. And let me handle Henderson.” “Yeah... I'm really sorry I dropped in out of nowhere and dropped all this drama on you,” Korsy said. “I know you've got a lot going on.” “I've pretty much just accepted this stuff, so there's not actually much for me to do, except just keep sitting on my ass...” Theo said. “In a few weeks, I'm supposed to start growing again though. Not looking forward to that.” “Well, you've got good care and I think you're gonna get through it,” Korsy said. “I appreciate that.” Theo patted Korsy's knee. “And don't apologise for looking for help. What's worrying you most about this situation, though?” Korsy took a deep breath. “My friend... He says he doesn't want to be pregnant, and he bought a pill for it... But, I don’t know, I'm worried he'll change his mind? And I can't...I can't be a dad...” “Boy, do I feel that...” Theo said, rubbing his stomach. “But, I mean, I don't know your friend, but if you feel like he feels the same way, then I don't think you should worry about it.” “Yeah, I trust him,” Korsy said. “It's all I can do... And we're not a couple, and he has a pretty small apartment and he seems more work driven than anything, so I think we're okay, but it's just that little chance that's scaring me.” “Well, you said he might not be pregnant at all,” Theo said. “So, it's like there's three ways it could go, and the majority is in favour of no baby.” “Yeah, you're right...” Korsy closed his eyes for a moment. “You're right. Thanks.” “Listen, feel free to stay over if you want,” Theo said. “There's more food, and we could watch more Mando. To keep your head off of things.” “Yeah, if it's alright... If Henderson comes back though, he probably won't want to see me.” “Don't worry about Henderson. You know, we could play Mario Kart first.” “Yeah, so you can challenge my win streak?” “Last time was a fluke.” “Sure. You're on.”

#lore #Theo #Henderson #Korsy #trans preg #transman #mpreg #mpreg belly

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peepeepotter · 4 years

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Hogwarts: New Girl AU

A/N: Warning, some canonical changes were made for plot reasons, the biggest being: Harry and Ginny never dated; Harry, Neville, and Draco are all professors; George has a new WWW store in Hogsmeade. Also, she starts off living with the four guys whereas in New Girl she only lived with all four for about a season. I just thought it would be fun!! Also, when I wrote this it felt a lot longer than it ended up being—so let me know if this is too long or too short or just right!! P.S.: I do NOT condone transphobia (I’m LGBT and will defend trans people until the day I die) and obviously I feel JKR is a shitty person, I write because I like writing and we’ll all agree that 5 year old Daniel Radcliffe wrote the HP series :)

Chapter 1: Who’s That Girl?

Pairing: George x Female Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Words: 3k

Series Masterlist

“So, you know in horror movies when the girls are like "Oh my god, there's something in the basement. Let me just run down there in my underwear and see what's going on in the dark", and you're like "What is your problem? Call the aurors!", and she's like "Okay" but it's too late because she's already getting avada kedavra’d. Well, my story's kind of like that.” y/n said, remembering the borderline traumatic moment that happened two weeks ago.

Y/N sat in the back of a muggle taxi, on her way to her shared apartment with her boyfriend Cormac McLaggen. Only, incredibly uncomfortably, she was completely naked under a trench coat.

“It’s a surprise for Cormac. I’m just gonna walk in and drop my coat, like BAM. There it all is. He said he has this fantasy that I’m a veela with a heart of gold.” Y/N attempted to whisper into the phone speaker.

“You added the ‘heart of gold’ thing, didn’t you?” Ginny asked, chuckling and knowing full well that McLaggen wasn’t exactly a thoughtful person, and wouldn’t have included that in a sexual fantasy.

“Yeah. I wanted to really get into the character, you know?” Y/N tried to get into the fantasy more, hoping it would make her less uncomfortable.

“Oh really? What’s your veela name?”

“Uh...Fleur?”

“That ones taken, Y/N.”

“Whatever, I don’t need a veela name.”

“Either way, I’m so proud of you for getting out of your comfort zone! Good luck babe.” Ginny encouraged.

As Y/N walked into the apartment, she was trying to position herself sexily in the living room. She laid on her side on the couch. Too cliché. She propped herself on the back of the couch. Too masculine. Eventually Cormac entered the living room from the bedroom wearing only his boxers, making Y/N panic about the fantasy.

“Y/N! You’re back early! I wasn’t expecting you—“

Y/N dropped the trench coat. Immediately after a girl, Pansy Parkinson she recognized, followed McLaggen out of the bedroom. Their bedroom. And she was only wearing her underwear.

“Oh.”

“So that’s what happened and why I really need a new place to live. Anyway...what was the question?” Y/N smiled at the four men in front of her. They all looked traumatized by her story.

“Um, do you have any pets?” George asked.

“Oh, no I don’t. Sorry,” She chuckled awkwardly.

“You know what’s funny? When I saw your ad on DumbledoresList I thought you were women.” Y/N laughed. “Crazy, right?”

“Hold up, why would you think that?” Draco spoke before the other two could.

“Just some of the vocabulary used. Like sun-soaked and exposed brick daydream.”

“Draco you wrote exposed brick daydream? Oh my god,” George was nearly in tears with laughter, Harry and Neville following quickly. “Jar, right now, dude.”

“Yeah, jar, seriously. Five galleons.” Harry agreed, pointing to a jar on the mantle of he fireplace with a neon green post-it note labeled “Prick Jar.”

Draco rolled his eyes, getting up and putting the galleons in the jar.

Y/N coughed, trying to refocus the attention. “Look, I really like this apartment. I also really don’t want to live with my friend anymore. She’s a quidditch player...all her friends and roommates are quidditch players. They get into some real weird shit.” Y/N felt like she was pleading with them. Just let me stay here!

“Look I still don’t feel like we know enough—” George was interrupted by Draco.

“Oh, quidditch players? When can you move in?” Y/N grinned, hoping the promise of these three men meeting hot quidditch players would help.

“No, no, loft meeting. Bathroom.” Harry ordered, leading the way down the long hall to the bathroom at the end. When Y/N heard the door shut she quickly and silently followed, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Come ON guys, she’s friends with quidditch players. Next to veela’s and the girls at Beauxbaton, that’s like the hottest girls in existence.” Draco begged the other two.

“The fact that you’re a professor now and you said that is like...incredibly disturbing.” Harry glared at Draco, George and Neville shaking their heads.

“Yeah, and my sister is a quidditch player so I don’t know about that.” George shuddered.

“I’m not going to lie to you guys, I don’t want a girl living here. Sometimes, I get home from a long day of teaching and I just want to strip and lay on the couch. Let the boys chill.” Harry casually shared. Y/N gagged at the thought, but the other three men in the bathroom made noises of agreement, or at least understandment of his statement.

“I am...actually neutral on this one.” Neville shrugged, causing Draco to scoff.

“You would be neutral on this.” Draco rolled his eyes, but directed his attention toward their fourth roommate. “Alright George, tie-breaker. It’s up to you. Is she in or out?”

“You guys know I don’t do well under pressure like this. Just give me a minute let me think.”

Both Harry and Draco started arguing with each other, putting George under more pressure to make a decision. He slowly backed himself into the stall in the bathroom and locked it. Neville watched everything play out, arms crossed with a smile on his face.

“Oh, now look what you’ve done!” Draco said, gesturing to the hiding George.

“What I’ve done! You started it—” Harry replied.

“Whatever, executive decision—she’s in.” Draco announced.

“YAY! I’m in!” Y/N exclaimed, not able to contain her excitement on the other side of the bathroom door. Draco opened the bathroom door.

“Nobody decided putting a silencing charm on the door would be a good idea?” Harry asked the boys in the bathroom.

“Oh you guys have a stall and urinals? Like a public bathroom? Okay, yeah I guess I can get used to that.” Y/N said, looking around the bathroom that reminded her a little too much of the bathrooms at Hogwarts.

“What do you do for a living anyway? Why do you want to live out here in Hogsmeade?” Draco asked as the group of five made their way back to the living room.

“I just became a professor at Hogwarts! I spent a really long time in both the muggle world and the magical world studying creatures. So, I’m taking over for Hagrid.” Y/N smiled, very excited to be doing her two favorite things in the world: working with animals, and teaching bright young minds.

“Oh, Harry, Neville and I are professors at Hogwarts too. I teach potions, Neville teaches herbology, and Harry teaches...Harry what fucking subject do you teach?” Draco crooked an eyebrow at Harry, purposely acting like he didn’t know what Harry taught.

“Defense against the dark arts.” Harry glared at Draco. “And George here just opened a new Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes shop in Hogsmeade.” Harry said, clapping George’s back. George sheepishly smiled at Y/N.

“Oh that’s awesome! I loved pranks at Ilvermorny. Cormac hated pranks.” Y/N started to tear up, staring off into space.

“George gets it, he was dumped, too.” Draco took his turn to clap his hand on George’s back this time.

“Yeah. Dumped,” George scoffed.

“George I just can’t do this anymore!” Angelina pleaded with George as he covered his ears, despite only the one really working.

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU! WE CAN’T BREAK UP IF I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” George yelled.

“Yeah, I was dumped.” George shrugged. “What about it? It was like eight months ago Draco! Move past it. Pfft, dumped.” George got very heated over...seemingly very little, Y/N noticed.

“Ignore him, he’s still fragile. Which, you aren’t too fragile, right?” Draco asked.

“Pfft. I’m so tough. Don’t even worry about it.”

“We’ll always have Paris. We didn’t have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night. … And you never will. But I’ve got a job to do, too. Where I’m going, you can’t follow. What I’ve got to do, you can’t be any part of.” Y/N was screaming the words of the monologue from Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca at the television, the four men staring at her from the kitchen.

“Feel like we’ve made a mistake yet?” Harry asked Draco, who rolled his eyes and approached Y/N.

“Y/N, stop.” Draco turned the television off. “C’mon, you can’t be like this! You’re a strong woman! Strong women don’t cry over men who clearly didn’t deserve them in the first place! Strong women go out and hook up with strangers in the bar in Hogsmeade to get over their ain’t-shit exes.” Draco pulled Y/N up from off the couch. “Go take a shower. We’re going to the Three Broomsticks tonight and you’re hooking up with someone.” Draco pushed her in the direction of the bathroom.

“And that gentleman is how you take care of a crying woman. Not that any of you know how to handle women at all.” Draco snipped at the three men, who—to be fair—did not know how to deal with women at all.

At the Three Broomsticks, the four men watched Y/N absolutely fail at flirting with any even remotely viable man in the bar. Eventually Draco called her back over to the booth where the four men drank and talked about their days.

“Honey, you’ve got to stop doing whatever it is you were doing out there. In fact, you’re going to stop doing anything. You are going to go sit at the bar and look pretty until a man approaches you, and then you are going to smile and nod and agree to go out with him.” Draco nagged. The three other men were chuckling quietly as Y/N trudged to the bar, hoping for men to approach her.

“Anyway, what is this shit we’re chaperoning on Friday night?” Draco turned to Neville and Harry, hoping one of the two would know.

“I think it’s a school dance but like...not fun for the kids at all. Like I don’t think there’s actually any dancing at all.” Harry summed, confused as well. None of them had ever been to muggle high school, and did not understand what a “homecoming” dance was. The Muggle Studies professor suggested it might be fun for the first Friday back to school, and McGonagall agreed as long as the kids didn’t have too much contact on the dance floor. The Muggle Studies teacher explained to the three men that it was “middle school rules, no touching below the shoulders, room for Merlin in the middle.” if dancing were to be allowed. Neville, Harry, and Draco were clueless as to what that meant.

“Glad I won’t be in on that shit show.” George laughed, taking a sip of his drink.

“We actually signed you up.” Draco said nonchalantly, drinking his beer. George spat his beer out violently.

“Excuse me? I have to spend my Friday night watching a bunch of kids...do what? Drink butterbeer and sit on opposite ends of a room?!” George was clearly pissed off, wanting to have done literally anything else with his Friday night.

“I mean, you’ll see your brother.” Harry offered, which actually eased George’s tensions a bit. He smiled, missing his family.

“Oh, alright. Harry, you charmer, you always know how to get me.” George winked at Harry who waved him off.

“How are things going with you and uh...Loony?” Draco asked Neville. The three other men rolled their eyes, annoyed at how Draco still seemed to live in his own little world.

“Luna. And things are going...they’re going.” Neville shrugged, clueless to his own love life.

“Just as expected, he doesn’t know anything.” Draco shook his head at George and Harry, as if Neville’s cluelessness was their fault.

“Are you blaming—” Before Harry could finish accusing Draco of exactly what Draco was doing, Y/N came back from the bar, squealing about getting a date.

“What did you do?” Draco asked, smirking, just knowing he was right.

“I did what you said! I just smiled and nodded and said I wanted to hookup and he gave me his number and now we’re going out Friday night!” Y/N jumped up and down in tiny jumps, starting to fist-pump.

“This American is so weird sometimes.” Harry whispered.

“It’s endearing, I think.” Neville commented.

“Naive, maybe.” George rolled his eyes, the only one who seemed to notice that she blatantly told the man she would have sex with him.

When the night of her date rolled around, the four men found themselves with an unexpected floo guest.

“Ginny, what are you doing—” George stood.

“Who told her it was a good idea to get back out there again? That’s not your job, that’s my job. I’m her best friend, you guys are just some weird adult men living together. No offense brother, dear.” Ginny was in the living room, pointing an accusing finger at the men sat on the couch while Y/N was in her bedroom getting ready. Ginny was clearly ready to go out clubbing for the night, and was dressed in a short dress and very tall heels.

“None taken.” George rolled his eyes, plopping himself back on the couch.

“Now I’m going to go handle the mess you all created, thank you very much.” Ginny glared, walking over to Y/N’s room and walking in.

Y/N laid on the ground surrounded by clothes. Her hair and makeup was clearly done, but she seemed stumped on what to wear. She was currently wearing a witch hat, a crop top, sweatpants, and cowgirl boots.

“Y/N,” Ginny sighed. “What were you going for with this?” Ginny gestured up and down Y/N’s body.

“Witchy space cowgirl.” Y/N shrugged. “It seems like something you’d find in a porn anyway—”

“Here, let’s find you clothes that will actually get you laid.”

After about half an hour, Ginny emerged from Y/N’s room first, dressed in a crop top and sweatpants.

“Now presenting, the new but not improved, still absolutely perfect Y/N.” Ginny gestured towards Y/N’s bedroom, where Y/N emerged. She was wearing the short black sleeveless dress and tall heels Ginny had been wearing when she emerged from the floo. Draco let out a whistle, Harry and Neville started clapping, and George was sat, stunned. Well, until Y/N started fist pumping again, then they all started booing her.

“Don’t let me keep you guys, I know you have plans with a bunch of 11 to 17 year olds tonight.” Y/N giggled, watching as the men stood up at the reminder.

“Don’t worry, we’d rather be anywhere else. Even here watching your weird dancing.” Draco puffed, the other men agreeing.

“So yeah, that’s how we got a new roommate.” George explained to Fred, who’s hazy, ghostly form nodded.

“Believe it or not, I actually know her. I was her first friend here.” Fred grinned, pointing to himself. George wasn’t surprised. Ever since Fred died and became a ghost, Fred frequently felt lonely, and George knew that. Besides Peeves, he really didn’t have many friends. He couldn’t interrupt teachers while they were teaching, but since Care for Magical Creatures was not a required class, Y/N had a lot of free time. They bonded over pranks, baked goods, and George. “She’s so cute! You totally would’ve dated her a decade ago.” Fred teased his younger twin.

“Yeah, well, things change I guess.” George felt his phone vibrating in his pocket, and looked at the caller ID to find it as Madam Puddifoot’s store number. “One second.” He told his brother. “Madam Puddifoot?” George asked.

“George dearie, your friend Y/N here was stood up by her date. I figured someone should know, she’s in my shop crying and I have to close in,” she paused, clearly checking the time. “In a half hour. Do you think you could help?” George stood, already walking towards the school’s exit.

“Oh hello there.” Y/N sniffled, eyes red and puffy as she looked up to see George taking a seat in front of her. “Don’t you have a school dance you’re supposed to be chaperoning.” She furrowed her eyebrows, pointing a finger at him. She meant for it to be accusatory, but with red puffy eyes, George mostly found it (as Neville said) endearing.

“Some things are more important than watching boys and girls stand on opposite ends of a room.” He shrugged, reaching across the table and grabbing his friends hand. “Listen, real men don’t treat women the way you’ve been treated the past few weeks. I’m sorry you’re going through this. If it makes you feel better, sometimes I still call my ex and leave voicemails in a country accent.” George offered, making Y/N giggled, wiping lone tears.

“Well, you can always call me and talk to me in a country accent instead.” She shrugged, in an attempt to help him the way he’s come to help her. “Do you want to go home and watch—”

“Literally anything other than Casablanca, okay? I will watch whatever sad chick flick you want, but you have watched Casablanca like twenty times this week.” George puffed, standing up and reaching his hand out for Y/N. “Let’s go home and get drunk and cry.” He smiled. Y/N grinned, grabbing his hand and letting him walk her out of the shop. She was still embarrassed, but her heart felt a lot better knowing someone came to help her out of this feeling. She’d never admit it to George, but it was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

When Draco, Neville, and Harry returned home, their suit jackets thrown over their shoulders and looking rather tired from dealing with teenagers all night, they found quite the sight for their sore eyes. George and Y/N were stood in front of the TV, clearly drunk, singing along to Heath Ledger’s character serenading Julia Stiles character in 10 Things I Hate About You. Draco, Neville, and Harry all looked at each other, shrugging. They dropped their suit coats and joined in, feeding the fire that was drunken George and Y/N.

And that was the end to Y/N’s first week in the loft above the Weasley’s Wizards Wheezes store in Hogsmeade.

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commander-diomika · 3 years

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(Click to Read From the Beginning) Part 6 - Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Word Count: 4700 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Opposites Attract, Trans Male Character, Forced Outing, Pining, Additional Warnings In Author's Note

Summary: New intel from Curie brings new rules about the quarantine process. This puts Zolf and Wilde in an awkward position. A/N - The forced outing depicted in this chapter isn’t through any malicious intent, but rather circumstances outside character control. There are no transphobic sentiments portrayed in this series, internalised or direct, but some of Wilde’s caution around disclosing indicates that this is a world where transphobia exists. These things could make for an uncomfortable experience for some readers.

The few times that Zolf went out on missions alone, usually on fruitless attempts to scout the Shoin Institute, it had been Barnes that welcomed him back and locked him in. Zolf didn’t mind isolation stretches, but he didn’t love that Wilde kept himself absent for the entire duration. He understood why, but there was something unsettling about coming home, and yet having to wait for what he felt like was the proper homecoming of being reunited with Wilde. But he coped with it just fine.

When the invitation from Curie came for a meeting, and specified that only one person was welcome, Zolf fought hard for it to be him.

“You’ve never even met Curie.” Wilde pointed out, voice level despite the heat in Zolf’s tone. “It makes far more sense for me to go, and someone needs to stay here.”

“At least take Barnes with you,” Zolf countered, knowing he was being ridiculous but unable to help it. He’d known that this time was coming but that didn’t make it come any easier. “He don’t have to come with you to meet her, but he can keep you safe.”

Wilde’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

Zolf crossed his arms, stymied. It wasn’t that he was overprotective. But he couldn’t squash the memory of Wilde’s face, slippery with blood beneath frantic fingers, or the haunted look in Wilde’s eyes when he emerged from isolation.

“I won’t even be gone long, Zolf. Curie is going to meet me in Hiroshima.”

Zolf opened his mouth to argue further, and was stopped by Wilde closing his eyes, looking genuinely tired for a moment. Normally Wilde relished a bit of verbal sparring and the two of them fought as easily as they breathed. But something about the way he sighed gave Zolf pause.

When Wilde next spoke, his voice was soft, a rare pleading in his tone. “I know, Zolf. I know you don’t like it. I don’t like it, but I have been looking at these same four walls for months. I am sick of not being a productive member of this team.”

“WHAT!” Zolf exploded. “You are the most productive member! Me n’ Barnes n’ Carter would be nothin’ without-”

“You know what I mean!” Wilde said, frustrated. Zolf hardly ever saw him like this. Anger was an emotion that Wilde kept locked away, just like his fear. “I’m sick of people treating me like I’m some sort of china doll, just because I can’t cast anymore!”

Zolf spluttered. “You’re not- we don’- nobody said-”

Wilde raised his hand. “I appreciate your concern, Zolf, I really do. But I’m going on this mission. And I am asking you-” Wilde drew a deep breath in through his nose “-to trust me.”

Well. That had been played like a trump card. Zolf felt something in him release, the angry churn of his stomach dissipating. If there was any truth left in the world at this point, it was that Zolf trusted Wilde.

He nodded.

---

As was protocol, on the evening he returned, Zolf, Barnes and Carter made themselves scarce until Wilde was safely in the anti-magic chamber, not detouring to any other rooms of the inn. They had arrangements for how to handle if a returning party member didn’t head straight for what they’d all started calling “the box,” but thankfully it was yet to come up. Zolf headed in after, with the keys to the cell, fresh clothes, and a bowl of prawn gyoza in hand.

“How’s Hiroshima?” Zolf asked, locking up and passing through the food.

Wilde didn’t respond, just levelled Zolf with a flat glare.

Zolf shrugged. “You can talk to me, an’ if at the end of the week you’re compromised, I’ll just assume that anythin’ you said was false intel, yeah? Until then,” Zolf pulled up the chair that sat outside and cell and settled it. “There’s no harm in it going this way,” he swept his hand from Wilde’s direction toward himself. “I just won’t tell you anything you don’t already know.” He, quite simply, was not going to take no for an answer. He wasn’t leaving Wilde alone with his thoughts for a week.

Wilde managed to look disapproving for a moment more, then a little smirk slipped through the veneer. “I find it difficult to believe you know anything I don’t, Smith.”

“Oh, sod off.”

“I can’t help it if I just happen to be the brains of the operation.” Wilde gave a small, defeated chuckle, and sat on the cot. He started undoing the anti-magic cuffs and massaging his ankles. Sometimes when there was no one using the box, Wilde would come sleep down here just for a chance to take them off for a little while.

“Hiroshima is well enough, but Curie says Cairo is a mess. The sandstorms have been giving it absolute hell. Anyone who doesn’t still need to be there isn’t, though it’s still seeing a lot of refugee traffic.” He picked up the food Zolf had passed through.

“From Europe?”

Wilde nodded between popping gyoza into his mouth. “These are very good, you know.”

Zolf waved a hand. “Hiromi’s been giving me lessons. She’s much nicer about it than her husband.”

Wilde updated Zolf on Curie’s operation. When he mentioned that she had been gifted the old Tahan estate, Zolf’s gut squeezed. It had been… almost over a year since he’d seen Hamid, and months since they’d last heard from him and the others. It was almost impossible to think that they were still alive, but without bodies or news, there was no way forward. Both men were left lingering in ambivalence, hope laid thick and heavy over a grief that couldn’t surface.

Wilde finished his food and frowned. He spoke more hesitantly than before. “There is one more thing I should tell you. We need to update some of the protocols.”

“Yeh? Howso?”

“The blue vein rumours? About the infected? Confirmed. More importantly, Curie says in every instance of a double agent, the blue veins have appeared on the body first, not the face or hands.” Wilde was overexplaining in a way that was unlike him. “In addition to the quarantine, being on the lookout for behavioural changes, Curie also recommended we do,” Wilde hesitated, again in a most un-Wilde-like fashion, “…visual inspections of those in quarantine. Thorough ones.” He fluttered nervous hands up and down his torso to illustrate.

As Zolf slowly turned over the implications, Wilde turned to rummage through his bag and withdraw papers. He gestured for Zolf to come take them through the slot.

“Reports, signed and sealed, detailing it all.”

Zolf took them, still absorbing what Wilde had said. He didn’t look through the bars. If he had, he would have seen something cautious and watchful in Wilde’s eyes.

The silence stretched on too long between them.

“Anyway, if you don’t mind, I am going to get some sleep. The boat from here to the mainland isn’t exactly a luxury cruiser, and I am exhausted.” Wilde flumped down onto the cot to punctuate the point.

“I… yeh. I’ll go have a look through these reports.” As Zolf walked away from the box, he paused in the door. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. I’m glad you’re safe, he didn’t add.

“Of course you are,” Wilde replied without missing a beat. “This place must be dreadfully dull without me to liven it up for you.”

Zolf rolled his eyes and headed upstairs.

Having read through Curie’s reports, the next day Zolf went back to Wilde’s cell with his heart in his mouth.

Naked inspections. It’s just one thing after another in this brave new fucking world, isn’t it, he thought, agitated.

The whole situation was ridiculous. What was he so worried about? After everything they’d been through there was a certain trust, an ease between them now. What was a bit of nudity in the face of all that?

He was only feeling nervy about it because he was sure that Wilde was going to be a dick about it, in his usual style. Getting under Zolf’s skin hadn’t stopped being a hobby of Wilde’s, and this whole situation set the stage for his insufferable needling.

Wilde stood quickly as Zolf entered. He’d changed out of the clothes he’d travelled to Hiroshima in, and was now wearing long dark pants and his favourite yukata, the one with green and pink floral pattern.

“I read through all the reports,” Zolf began.

“We might as well get this over with,” Wilde said at the same time, and then laughed a little manically.

Zolf took his seat, waited for Wilde to quiet, then continued. “Curie also recommended we start askin’ people to tell us stories of things that only the other would know. Code words aren’t enough because it’s more about how you do the retellin’ than it is about the information.” Wilde’s face relaxed at the notion of delaying what came next.

“I’ll get you to tell me about… tell me how you remember our first meetin’, then.” Zolf said. Since all the other people who were there are either dead or presumed dead, he didn’t want to add.

Wilde launched into an explanation of flaming notepads, blood noses, slipping into his storyteller shoes with relief. It was nice to listen to him perform, even if thinking about Hamid and Sasha was depressing.

“And,” Wilde wound up, “I just happened to linger by the door and overhear you mention something about my bum, of all things. Now, if you’ll do me the favour of telling what that was, and we can all move forward assured of each other’s memory, though probably not their integrity.”

Oh, curses. He hadn’t thought Wilde had still been around for those comments. He crossed his arms and frowned loudly.

“Come now Zolf, you’ve already said it, you can’t take it back now.” Exactly as Zolf had suspected, Wilde seemed to be delighting in causing Zolf discomfort once again, whilst he slipped back into his old, familiar smarm. Wilde wrapped his hands around the bars of the cell and bounced slightly on his toes.

“I said,” Zolf pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said it was very nice.” And he stood by it, but Wilde didn’t need to know that.

Wilde laughed, free and throaty, running his hand through his hair in a way that Zolf knew, if he had access to his magic, would be accompanied by a bawdy shimmer of sparkles. For a moment, things felt bright.

The energy snapped back. Wilde wasn’t performing for a party, he wasn’t needling Zolf for a laugh, he was locked up in a cell waiting to find out if he had an infection that would turn him into something unrecognizable and dangerous… Wilde dropped his hands from the adamantine, and the two of them fell silent.

“I can go get Barnes, if you’d prefer,” Zolf said with a useless gesture. Wilde was already shaking his head.

“What’s a bit of nudity between… friends.” Wilde asked, with a quizzical tilt of his head. His eyes were asking does friends really cover it anymore? Zolf didn’t have an answer.

Zolf didn’t know how to get this whole awkward scenario started, so he just waited, his mouth dry. There was something so grim in Wilde’s face, and Zolf didn’t understand. His obvious discomfort with the notion of watching Wilde undress should’ve delighted the man. It should have been ammunition.

As Wilde started on the ties of his yukata, for the briefest of moments, Zolf’s discomfort was replaced by a blistering anger at the absurdity of it all. All those moments he had wanted to be closer to Wilde, to touch his bare skin or to hold him… but he hadn’t asked for this. Between the two of them hung a nascent possibility. A possibility that Zolf was only just starting to acknowledge, and that deserved a chance to blossom.

That instead it should be forced to happen like this, through cell bars, was perversely unfair. To him. To Wilde. To the pair of them and all the ways that this could have been different.

Wilde paused, as if seeing the flash of anger in Zolf’s eyes. He spoke quietly, almost to himself. “Thinking about… hmph. The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” With that non sequitur, he disrobed, turning his body to drape the cloth over the cot.

As he turned back, Zolf was struck by a sudden realisation; he’d never seen Wilde with his shirt off. Never swum together, never seen him coming back from bathing with a towel around his waist. Even in the heat, Wilde always wore his shirt buttoned, his yukata firmly tied. Zolf swore he could see Wilde’s chest in his mind’s eye. It just made sense. Wilde had certainly seen Zolf’s chest; they’d been living in each other’s pockets for almost a year now and Zolf didn’t think much of it.

But no, because if he’d seen Wilde without the shirt, he would know that Wilde had a smattering of dark chest hair. And more scars on his torso than seemed right. The wounds from Douglas had torn two messy gashes near the ribs, and those scars were present as expected. But there were two more - slightly crescent shaped, uniform and well-healed - swooping across his chest just beneath flat nipples.

Surgical scars.

The air was knocked out of Zolf’s lungs. His body had grasped answers before his mind did. His thoughts felt sluggish, crawling, gasping to catch up, and when they did it was with the lurching realisation of just how unfair it was that they had been brought here, to this cell, to this grotesque scenario, against their will.

Wilde undid the drawstring of his pants and stepped out of them. Dark hair ran in a soft line from his navel down, fanning out to the triangle that dipped between his legs. His face was carefully blank, as he lifted his hands, palms up, in a sardonic “ta-dah” gesture.

Zolf was frozen inside his mind, as Wilde turned slowly on the spot.

He did have a fantastic arse, the perfect balance of muscular and plush, and once again Zolf was furious that any hint of eros in this had been utterly perverted.

Wilde turned back to face Zolf and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Zolf nodded again, his mouth dry. Wilde dressed, not rushed but efficient.

They sat in silence for a time.

“You never told me,” was all Zolf could think of to say.

“Fantastically witty and incisive commentary from one Zolf Smith, yet again,” Wilde said, voice like acrid smoke. Nothing made Wilde bite like losing the upper hand.

“I’m- I’m sorry. I jus’, I’ll go-” Zolf tried to walk and turn at the same time and knocked into the stool, clanging it down to the floor. He righted it with hands that shook and headed for the stairs.

“Zolf!” Wilde called after him. “You don’t have to leave.”

Well. That was as close to begging as Wilde ever got.

Zolf returned to his stool, and re-joined the silence. Wilde sat on the cot, watching the close wall of the cell with a face that Zolf recognised; it was one of Wilde’s favourite expressions, deliberately mild, open, waiting. It gave away nothing and invited everything. For Wilde, it was safety.

Other people, people who didn’t know Wilde as well, might take that as an invitation to speak. Zolf wasn’t other people. He thought about all the times he’d stumbled through something awkward, with good intentions but clumsy words. He had no idea how to proceed, other than it was probably wise to wait, and let Wilde find words first.

“Don’t feel bad about me not telling you.” Wilde said eventually. “It usually doesn’t come up, unless I’m sleeping with someone. Even then you’d be impressed at what can be achieved with creative use of props, dim lighting and a bit of magic.” He trailed his hand wistfully through the air, an impotent somatic component.

Zolf continued to wait, to leave the man space. Zolf wasn’t the one who’d been stripped, forced into a deeply personal disclosure without plan or intent.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed, you see. It's more… it feels like handing over a weapon, and I try to avoid that if I can. And well, I’m usually not in someone’s acquaintance long enough to feel bad about keeping it a secret.” There was an apology tucked between the words, and Zolf nodded even though Wilde wasn’t watching

He paused to run his thumb over the facial scarring, once, twice. “Bosie knew.”

Wilde let the silence stretch on long enough that Zolf felt like he had to speak or he would never stop thinking about skidding through Wilde’s blood on a cold stone floor. “You… you used to use your magic for it, righ’?”

Wilde barked out a harsh laugh. “Oh yes, for practically all of it! It was the reason I got so good at glamours! Back in Cairo I… I suspected that an anti-magic chamber or cuffs might halt the hexing, but I couldn’t, you see? I’d been doing it for so long. Everyone knew me as a man.” He shrugged, saying obviously with his shoulders. “I couldn’t go back.”

Zolf examined Wilde’s face. He was still carefully keeping his gaze on the cell wall. He still had that mild expression on his face, as though they discussed what to have for lunch, not one of the lowest points of his life. But he didn’t seem upset, so Zolf pressed on. “What happened?”

“Oh I…” he huffed a small laugh. “I got lucky. Turns out Grizzop already knew. I don’t think I reacted quite right when he punched me in the crotch.” Now something like genuine fondness crept into Wilde’s voice. “He suspected what might happen if I had to stop casting; he helped smooth things over. I was in no position to be fending for myself at that juncture, I had let the curse go on too long.” Wilde looked at his hands. “I will always be grateful to him.”

Wilde sounded like a man who knew, without a doubt, that the object of his gratitude was dead.

“Once it became clear the cuffs were going to become a permanent accessory, he set things up with the Cult of Aphrodite for me to have surgery and for them to supply the right potions. They have all the gear and know-how, of course. Not everyone in my position is a caster.”

Something else clicked in place for Zolf as he pondered the technicalities of non-magical surgery.

“Wait a minute. You were still recovering from that when we joined back up, weren’t you?”

Wilde’s brow crinkled as he considered timelines. “That’s right. Scarring needs to heal with almost no magical intervention, otherwise it’s back to square one. So it was… quite painful, to be quite honest. And compared to magical healing, the process drags on and on.”

Wilde smoothed a hand over his robe-clad chest. “I like it better this way now. No more binding my chest just in case, though I try to be careful about who sees the scars.” His voice was light, that faux-levelness starting to fade and he just, talked. Wilde was relieved, Zolf realised with a start. He wanted to tell Zolf about these things.

“It’s nice to just … be myself. Even at the end of day when I’m tired and can’t cast anymore.” And he finally looked at Zolf and smiled. Not a smirk or grin, just a completely open smile that welcomed Zolf into his joy instead of belittling or declaring victory with it. Even with the scar, sitting in a dim cell, he looked radiant.

As Zolf went to smile back, he felt his face wobble. This - Wilde smiling, confiding, being easy and honest with him - it was a better outcome than he could have hoped for. He felt the sudden bloom of Wilde’s smile in his chest, the warmth of the man’s trust.

But this was merely day one of seven, and it was still terrifyingly possible that the man who sat across from him was not Wilde at all. So Zolf’s smile twisted as it appeared on his face, and he didn’t reply, allowing them to lapse back into silence.

Day 2

“Wouldn’ it be- well not easier but less, I dunno- to just wait and do one inspection on the last day?” Zolf asked. He’d brought down breakfast and the paper, and they’d sat quietly as they ate; Wilde had finished eating and was starting on the motions of undressing.

“Zolf. My dear.” Wilde cocked his head in that patronising way that he did when he thought Zolf had said something legitimately dumb. “If I am reading your intentions correctly, your plan for the week is to eschew all your other jobs to waste away at my door-” Zolf opened his mouth to argue and Wilde simply raised his voice and pressed on “-not that I am complaining, but if you truly are going to while away the days with me, and then on the final day, you find out I have been infected the whole time and have to kill me, how, pray tell, is that going to make you feel?”

Zolf snapped his mouth shut.

“Wouldn’t you rather know as soon as it comes up?” Wilde pointed out, frustratingly reasonable.

Zolf simply wanted to throw the cell doors open because there didn’t seem any possibility that the man behind the bars was anything other than 100% pure, vexatious Oscar Wilde, but he stilled his twitching hand. Wilde’s question was to remain unanswered as Zolf simply gestured go on then and Wilde, with a grim, self-satisfied nod, started to strip.

Day 3

“No, don’tcha see, if Jennifer had gone to Antony in the garden, her mother would have known from the get-go-”

“But I simply don’t see how Alianne knowing would have improved things for Jennifer-”

“She was supportive, she could’ve helped smooth things over when Antony’s sister started her meddlin’, and they could have wrapped the whole thing up before supper!”

“Yes, but where is the fun in that, Zolf?”

Day 4

As Wilde dispassionately disrobed for a fourth time, Zolf realised there was now a familiarity to Wilde’s naked body, and that was jarring.

He wasn’t lanky, not really, but Zolf couldn’t help but think of most humans that way. The truth was he was solid enough in build, surprisingly muscular for a man who mostly rode a desk. His legs and arse especially were firm with it. He does a lot of walking about the village, I s’pose.

Zolf watched Wilde turn on the spot and he longed to trace the shape of Wilde’s shoulders, cup his ass, rub my damn nose in that soft lookin’ chest hair and…

Zolf ground his teeth against the wrongness of it all.

He thought of slipping his hands between Wilde’s legs, and though the shape of the fantasy had changed, the intensity had not.

It had been a long time since Zolf had felt a physical or sexual attraction like this, and the fact that it was at the most inconvenient time, and the most unlikely person, was enough to make him think he’d made a mistake breaking ties with Poseidon. Maybe if he hadn’t eschewed divine favour, he would have been protected from whatever trickster god had decided to throw this at him.

He kept his hands in his pockets so that Wilde wouldn’t see him clench his fists.

Maybe I should offer to strip too. At least that would put us on an equally horrible footing, Zolf mused.

Wilde dressed and turned back to look at Zolf with careful, watchful eyes. Wilde was in the business of reading even the most inscrutable enemies like a book, and at this point he had a thorough translation guide for Zolf. He knew it bothered the dwarf. The fact that Wilde hadn’t made a bunch of lewd comments was probably his idea of a kindness, but the absence of Wilde’s typical peacocking it somehow made it worse.

When he looked at him like that, it made Zolf feel like he was the one in the cell.

Zolf cleared his throat. “Got a new crossword book if you like?”

Day 5

“Pawn to E4.”

A chess board sat on a small table just outside the cell. Zolf moved the white pawn for Wilde then took his own move.

“Knight to G3.” Wilde said in a bored tone. He’d voted for bridge, but Zolf had talked him out of it. Too difficult to wrangle cards between the cell’s bars and mesh, he’d pointed out. Which was true, but what was also true was that Wilde was surprisingly bad at chess (it was much easier to cheat in cards).

Whilst Zolf did feel sympathy for Wilde, things weren’t so bad that Zolf wasn’t going to relish the opportunity to beat him at something for a change.

Day 6

Each day Wilde got closer to being comfortable with the inspections. Closer but not there. Half a lifetime of needing to be guarded about who saw your body created some strong foundational habits. That foundation wasn’t going to be eroded in seven days, regardless of how much you trusted the person who saw you.

But still, it could have been worse. Zolf shuddered to think what would have happened if this situation had been thrust on them a year ago. Their friendship, tenuous as it was, might not have been able to survive.

Dressing again, Wilde stretched the kinks out of neck. “I cannot wait to get out of here and have a proper bath and a nice long walk.”

“Nearly there.” Zolf said absently. He’d stopped needing to worry every second moment that Wilde was infected. Even though they’d been dealing with it all with distractions, with laughter, with pretending like it wasn’t happening, Zolf felt the sudden urge to be honest.

“I’m sorry that… that it happened like this. That you didn’t get a choice in tellin’ me about...” Your past? Your journey? Your truth? “…Everythin’.”

Wilde made a face of surprise, but instead of deflecting the offer of an honest conversation, he accepted. “Me too. I intended to, but as I said. I’m rarely… close enough with someone that I feel they deserve it. I wish-” Wilde paused, considering his next words, and what other weapons he might be handing over, deeply. “I wish that the circumstances had been different.”

Zolf could just ask what he meant. He could. It was practically an invitation for him to press, to force Wilde to clarify exactly under what circumstance he’d envisioned sharing secrets about his body with Zolf… but he didn’t.

Inside Zolf, uneasy guilt gnawed at him. The circumstances they had were only these ones. Wilde was vulnerable, caged, and thoroughly without a choice; but Zolf knew there were moments he’d chosen to ignore those elements. He knew, deep in his guilty core, he had been inspecting far more than he had the right. It didn’t feel honourable to press Wilde any further after that.

“Yeah.” Zolf stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Wilde. Last day ‘n all.”

Day 7

“It would have been too much to hope that the bloody sun would come out for this, wouldn’t it,” Wilde grumbled.

Freshly released, he was pondering umbrella selection in the entry hall.

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to come with,” Zolf ventured. Wilde had come out of his quarantine cheerful enough, but there was something understandably off about him; something distant and a little contemplative. Zolf had been half-expecting, or even hoping for, one of Wilde’s warm shoulder-touches. But he had kept his hands firmly to himself.

Wilde looked up, mouth twisted wryly. “I think I’ll be fine.” He hesitated, as he always did before saying something sincere. “I do appreciate what you’ve done for me this week, Zolf, but I could use a little space.”

Zolf nodded. He’d expected as much.

Inside him, the guilt twisted a little, the word violator rising in his mind. No. Neither of them had chosen anything about this situation. If anything, their connection felt even stronger for having been through the wringer, yet again. Whatever liberties Zolf accused himself of taking, it wasn’t enough to dent that.

We’re alright. Zolf thought.

We’ll be alright. I think we both could use a little time, is all.

Wilde selected the green umbrella, gave Zolf a tentative smile, and headed out into the rain.

#hank writes #rusty quill gaming #rqg #zoscar #zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde #rusty quill fan fic #Additional notes; zolf IS looking disrespectfully #zolfwilde

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castiel-kline · 4 years

Text

Filling in the gaps of 15x20, featuring Castiel and Jack.

Castiel woke with a gasp, the Empty pressing in around him as usual. He sat up, quickly, trying to get his bearings. He was met with a watery smile on a face he thought he’d never be lucky enough to see again.

“Hello,” Jack said, fingers half curled into a wave.

“Jack,” Cas breathed, pulling his son in for a fierce hug. Jack clung to him just as hard, the two of them huddled on what passed for solid ground in the Empty.

They pulled back, just looking at each other. Castiel kept his hand on Jack’s shoulder, not wanting to let him go just yet. He looked at Jack’s face, at the tiniest hints of tears in his eyes, and felt his heart sink.

“Jack, what happened?” Jack didn’t reply immediately, and Cas felt even more dread building, dripping down his spine like a melting icicle. “No. You’re not- you can’t be-”

“I’m not dead,” Jack assured him. Cas could feel his whole body slumping in relief. “I’m… I really missed you, Cas.”

“Well, I missed you too.” Cas squeezed Jack’s shoulder, rejoicing when a smile flitted across Jack’s face. Dying without saying goodbye… it was one of the most difficult things Cas had ever done.

“Wait, I don’t- I don’t understand. How are you here?”

Jack shrugged, and in the shift Cas could see something different. If he really looked, there was something more, something bright and powerful and ageless burning under Jack’s skin. More powerful than his soul and his grace combined.

“We defeated Chuck,” Jack said. “We didn’t kill him, but I- I took his powers, and I sort of took over from him.”

Castiel remembered sitting with Kelly before Jack was born. And he remembered that one little word that had kept them going.

Paradise.

And Castiel smiled, wider than he’d ever smiled before. “You did it,” he whispered. Jack returned his grin, and the two of them laughed, the sound echoing off of the Empty around them, beating the sorrow back. “You did it. Oh, Jack, I’m so proud of you. I always- Kelly and I always knew you could do this. We always believed.”

“I know.” Jack nodded. He stood, reaching down a hand to pull Castiel up with him. “Come with me.”

Jack tugged him along by the sleeve of his coat and started to run, the gesture so young and childlike in contrast to his new position as the universe’s caretaker.

“Jack, where are we-”

There was a sudden flash of light, and Castiel gasped, back straightening as if he’d been struck by an electrical current. When the roar of his grace subsided, he realized it was- it was there. It was all there, his wings, his grace- and the Hellfire scars and charring on his feathers were gone. Jack beamed at him, hands tucked behind his back.

“Jack, I…” Cas didn’t have the words. He spread his wings, flared them out and reveled in how free it felt. There wasn’t pain anymore. He looked around, suddenly taking in where they were.

“We’re in Heaven,” he said, looking back to Jack.

“Yes.” Jack lifted his chin. “I know Heaven isn’t what a lot of people expect, or want. I know it’s not what my mother, or Sam and Dean, believed that it should be. So- I’m going to fix it.”

Jack snapped his fingers, and all the doors and walls came crashing down, the compartments folding away. And the people, all the souls in Heaven, they rejoiced.

--------

Cas half expected chaos, but he should have known better. Somehow, Jack made it all make sense. The people were milling about, all those souls trying to find their loved ones and choose a place to settle. Or keep on going, always traveling. It didn’t really matter.

He and Jack were walking through the crowds, guiding them on their way and explaining the situation as gently as they could.

“Hey, you. Shoulda known you’d have somethin’ to do with all this.”

Cas whirled around, coming face to face with an old comrade-in-arms. “Bobby,” he said. “It’s- it’s good to see you again. Are you alright?”

Bobby shrugged. “Seems like. Are my idjits with you?”

“No. They’re, uh. They’re not here yet.”

“Guess I should be grateful for that,” Bobby grumbled. “I do have to ask, though, what’s with the sudden change? There a management shift I should be aware of or somethin’?”

Jack came bounding over, grabbing on to Castiel’s arm. “Cas, I found her! We- oh.” Jack looked at Bobby, recognition and realization igniting in his eyes. He straightened, putting on a front of godly power. Cas would have to tell him later that he didn’t need to do that.

“Hello,” Jack said, unnecessarily nervous.

Bobby looked at Cas from under a furrowed brow, then to Jack, and back to Cas. “Well, feathers, didn’t know you had it in ya.”

Cas shook his head. “Oh, no, it’s not what you-”

“I’m Jack,” Jack cut in. “I took the power of God, and now I’m fixing Heaven! It’s nice to meet you. Sam and Dean have told me a lot about you.”

Bobby’s confusion only deepened. Castiel sighed, and started explaining.

--------

“So, you got a kid.”

“Yes.”

“And Sam and Dean helped raise him.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Cas huffed a laugh, eyes trailing after Jack where he stood a little ways away, helping a man who’d died in 1432 reunite with his mother.

“No. We’ve all been saved.”

---------

Never let it be said that Kelly Kline was not a patient woman. By the time Cas caught up with her, millions of souls having been helped, it might well have been weeks. She was standing hand in hand with Jack, the two of them in animated conversation.

“Kelly,” he said, and she smiled at him as she brought her arms around him.

It felt like home.

---------

Jack kept busy. He and Cas swept through all of Heaven, the remaining angels having been assigned sections to comb through as well. They needed to make sure no souls were still lost without their families or their chosen place having been found.

The two of them spent plenty of time with Kelly, who had designed a little cottage like the one Jack was born in.

Jack worried about her getting lonely, and every time she had the same reply.

“I’m waiting for my parents to come. And I’ve got you two- my angels.”

One day Castiel and Kelly sat on the porch of that cottage, staring out across the lake at dawn. Jack had gone down to Earth to collect the wandering souls, those stuck in between. Like Kevin Tran. And he would bring them home.

“You were right, Kelly. You were always right. Jack changed the world.”

“He did.” Kelly smiled. “But we were right, Castiel. Both of us.”

They held hands and watched the sun rise.

---------

Jack was still Jack, despite the changes. He’d gone off in search of Mary Winchester, to make things right, as he said, and promptly threw himself into Castiel’s arms upon his return. They flew around for a while to calm him down, and eventually Jack smiled again.

Castiel was more than willing to be whatever Jack needed. That was his purpose- to aid in maintaining paradise, and to aid in maintaining Jack.

He’d never been happier.

---------

“I’m leaving,” Jack said. They’d always known it was coming.

Kelly hugged him goodbye, assuring Jack that she’d be waiting for him, and Cas walked him to the part of Heaven that remained free of human souls- the Lobby, as it had been dubbed. The throne had been removed, and in its place was a list. A list that always grew, of every soul admitted to Heaven. He let an anxious eye linger on the W column each time he passed by.

“Where will you go?” Castiel asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Jack answered. “But Amara says she’ll take me to see space. Like Star Wars, Cas!”

“Well, I bet you’ll enjoy that.”

Jack nodded, his eyes earnest. “I will.”

Castiel nodded back, feeling as if there were a knot inside him. Everything about this was bittersweet, pride dancing with sorrow in his heart. It was, he supposed, how every parent felt watching their child start a new chapter.

“Cas.” Jack settled a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be back. You don’t have to worry.”

“I know. I just- I’ll miss you, Jack.”

“I know. Me too.” Jack tucked himself into Castiel’s arms, burying his face in his shoulder. Cas just held him for a while, feeling the thrum of Jack’s grace and the effervescence of his soul.

They pulled apart.

“Bye, Cas,” Jack said, hand raised in a wave.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

And he was off. Absent from here, yes, but he was around, and he would be back. And really, what was a few decades when you had eternity?

---------

Castiel had tried to lead Heaven before, and he’d failed each time he tried. Now, though- now, the people were happy. Cas still visited Kelly, and he visited Mary and Bobby and the Harvelles and even found that the remaining angels were starting to open up to him again. When Jack got back, Cas would have to ask him about bringing more angels back from the Empty. Balthazar, Hannah, Samandriel, Gabriel… what he wouldn’t give to see them again.

He took a page out of Jack’s book, and hoping to have an inkling of Jack’s courage, found the Novaks. He’d known forgiveness was impossible, but at least he’d said his piece.

Then, one fateful day, a new name appeared on the list:

Dean Winchester.

And Castiel watched, waiting for Sam’s name to join it, but it didn’t. It wouldn’t for years.

And somehow, he knew that was alright.

--------

The decades passed, and Castiel waited. He waited for Sam’s name, and he waited for Jack’s return.

Sometimes he could hear Sam praying. It varied, the things he’d say. Sometimes he just prayed to Jack, and the only reason Cas heard was because he happened to be standing in the Lobby. He was glad to know Sam was happy, and living a good, quiet life. Like he deserved.

Hey, Jack. Cas. Dean. I hope you guys are okay. I’m just- I’m really missing you. I love you.

Eileen and I got married today. I didn’t have a best man, I just couldn’t- yeah. It was a little offbeat and quiet, but it suited us, you know? Anyway. I love you guys.

I have a kid. I have a baby, and he’s- you’d all love him. I wish you’d gotten to be a big brother, Jack. You would have loved it.

Hey, Cas- Dean Jr. loves PB&J. It, uh- it makes me think of you. I miss you, buddy.

Jody passed. Bad hunt. I feel like you guys should know. I hope you’re taking good care of her up there, Jack. She deserves it.

Dean started middle school today, and I can’t believe it. Time goes by so damn fast, doesn’t it? But I, uh. I still miss you. Love you guys.

Claire and Kaia are engaged. Dean Jr’s gonna be the ring bearer. He’s so excited.

Jack- happy tenth, bud. Double digits is a big deal. I miss you.

I never thought I’d be an attendee at Sam and Castiel Fitzgerald’s grad party, but here I am. Garth insisted. Eileen got to skip out because Dean’s got a school thing this weekend, but man, are they missing some good stuff. Garth throws a killer party. Who knew?

Eileen- she’s, um. She’s sick. I just- if you’ve got a miracle in you, Jack.. I know it’s probably a lost cause. But I don’t want Dean to lose his mom. And I can’t- I just can’t. Not again.

I love you, Eileen. Give your brother-in-law a big hug for me, okay?

Dean graduated from Stanford today. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder.

Happy 65th, old man. I miss you, jerk.

I think I’ll be seeing you soon, Dean. Hopefully you too, Jack. Cas- I don’t really know where you are, but I hope I’ll get to see you too.

I love you. Jack- make sure my son’s okay. Watch out for him, okay buddy? And keep doing great. You got this. Thank you- thanks for my life.

---------

Castiel watched as the name he’d been waiting for joined the list, after all this time. And he sent up a prayer of his own.

When Jack came back, as Cas knew he would, they had some family to visit.

#ya'll know I had to #;)#spn spoilers #spn 15x20 #castiel #jack kline #sam winchester #dadstiel #spn #spn fanfic #idk if this qualifies as a coda but whatever it is #enjoy #kitkat writes

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alakema · 4 years

Text

ds Dreammare :Calm

Dreamswap belongs to onebizarrekai

Pre-apple incident, trans male Nightmare that didn’t come out yet.

Dream’s point of view:

It is way too calm to be normal. It’s already noon, and at this time of day, my little sister should be awake by now, causing a monstruous ruckus for everyone to hear. Only silence greets me. I frown, concern growing steadily inside of me. I go to her room, to see if she needs anything. She’s not there… Did she leave before I came back? But she is trustworthy enough to stick a message on the table. She knows I would worry about her otherwise. Maybe I accidentally overlooked it? As I step out of her room, I notice mine’s door is slightly ajar. Weird, I’m certain I closed it this morning. Cautious, I open the door completely. To see Nightmare in my bed, asleep. Okay, that was unexpected. Annoyed, I’m about to start a lecture about her laziness, about how she has her own bed, when a whimper stops me. ‘She’s having a nightmare.’

My sister toss and turn a few time, whimpering and shivering, and I don’t know how to feel about that; she never showed me this side of her. She hates showing weakness. I shake her a bit, hoping it will be enough. It isn’t: she still won’t wake up. My next attempt is a bit more forceful.

“AAAH!”

Is the only sound my little sibling can make before she falls to the floor. Satisfied with the result, I wait for her to notice me. When our eyes meet, she duck her head, before returning her sight on me and exclaiming :

“Yo! What are you doing here? -… What am I doing in my own room? - Fair point… The sunlight blinded me, so I decided your room was better.”

That’s an utter lie, my room has its shutter wide-open, and the sun is hitting full force. I make my disappointment over her lie clear. I try to pry the answer out of her, but she won’t budge and manage to weasel out of this. I’d like to know what happened to her, but I know forcing her to anything will only result in us fighting.

“*sigh*. I’ll prepare you a breakfast, get ready for the day.”

Or what’s left of it, I precise silently. Guess I won’t be back to the tree as soon as I wanted. The shelves are full, I wonder what I could make for her? An omelet, maybe. And bacon, too would be good for her health.

I tried to subtly ask again what the bad dream was about. She wouldn’t budge. As much as it is frustrating, it worries me she can’t find it in herself to tell me what’s wrong. Maybe something happened with the villagers. Again. No, the villagers would have told me if she did a prank or had done things she shouldn’t have. And Nighty is not as sneaky as she thinks she is; I would have noticed all the materials she would have tried to gather under my nose (and GOD can she be creative about that). Maybe they did something to her in retaliation?... No, that’s stupid, they might get angry at her, but they aren’t cruel. They would never get physical at her. Nightmare even admitted that she mistook her fall for a shove.

I just have to stay calm and be there for her when she’s ready. I’ll support her the best I can. After all, despite her pranks and her mischievous attitude, she’s my precious baby sister, and I’ll always be her big brother.

Nightmare’s point of view:

Great. Just perfect. Dream found me during one of… Those times. I didn’t meant to worry him, honest ! I just… I didn’t think he would come home so soon: he has his ‘obligations’ to look after, and he’s so rigorous to be perfect to them that he would take his sweet ass time… I shouldn’t be in the way, or the villagers will make me pay. With how my body is healing right now, I can’t have a repeat of yesterday. It wouldn’t bode well for me. Especially if I have to keep that from my overbearing mother-hen of a brother. He may think he had been tactful, but trustfully, he can’t hide the pain in his eyes each time I stay silent about what the nightmare was about. It’s horrible what I’m doing to him, but he wouldn’t believe me if I said what happened. He never did before. If he were to discover I got hurt, he would force me to tell the ‘truth’, and I would be forced to lie because ‘the villagers didn’t do it Nightmare, you’re just trying to make them look bad in my eyes. You don’t know how utterly disappointed I am in you right now. Now, if you tell what really happened, you won’t be punished as much.’ Moron. What do I find in you, sometime I wonder.

We are back to the tree, together, but I can’t find it in myself to talk a mountain like I’m used to, or be annoying. I didn’t even climb the tree (Dream doesn’t need to know I actually can’t. My ankle is swollen and it’s a miracle I have hidden it this far). My older brother steals glances here and now. ‘Good luck buddy, I ain’t revealin’ anythin’.’ I love him, I really do. But I’m not blind to the favoritism he has toward the villagers over me. Toward anything over me.

“ Nightmare, I wanted to kno- - Please don’t. - What? - Please don’t talk. I just… Want to embrace this moment, just you and me.”

… Okay, what?! Why did I say that ? This doesn’t sound like me at all. Fuck. Oh shit. What do I do now? He’s gonna think I’m weird, and with what happened this morning -afternoon…whatever!- he’s not letting this go for a while. Great… Oh fuck my life. I turn my head away so that he won’t see my embarrassment.

“Is tha-… Are you sure? You can always go home if you don’t feel well. - I feel fantastic, thank you very much!”

We spend the rest of the day in quiet and calm. It’s been so long since the last time we were together for that much period of time. I can’t stop the smile on my face, and looking at Dream, he can’t either. I look at my room and my grin wither. Of course, my sibling noticed:

“Nightmare, is everything okay?”

I don’t say anything for a while, debating the best course of action.

“Dreamy, can I… No, it’s stupid, forget it. Good night!”

But before I can escape, he takes a hold of my wrist and turn me around. His eyes shine in the dark, and give a kind warm to our surrounding. He doesn’t speak, gathers me in his arms like a kitten before entering his room. He places me on the bed.

“Stay here, I’ll go get your pajamas. I’ll help with the nightmares, I promise.”

Once we are both ready for the night, he takes me in his arms again, before shielding us with a thick cover. My blush glows in the dark, and I’m thankful he closed his eyes. I never thought I would get to sleep next to my crush. He falls asleep before I do. My heart is racing against my ribcage, I don’t know how to make it silent. I look Dream inhaling slowly, not sure if I should go back to my room or not. But soon, I drift comfortably into a deep slumber.

After that, everything is peaceful, quiet and calm.

Next chapter : https://alakema.tumblr.com/post/646041076608729088/ds-dreammare-burn

#dreamswap #ds nightmare #ds dream #dreamswap nightmare #dreamswap dream #dreammare #ds dreammare #dreamswap dreammare #sweammare #pre-apple incident #trans male nightmare #but he didn't come out yet

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 4

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 3.3k

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Three weeks pass by. Three whole weeks of Henry hoping he bumps into his favorite pair again, but no luck. After that time he saw Olivia and Vanessa on the curb and the four of them went to the park, was also the last time he saw them.

He seriously regrets not asking Olivia for her number, so he could arrange more of those kinds of “dates”. He already has an excuse: “Kal needs to be around kids more and since Vanessa doesn’t have a dog, it’s a win-win situation, honestly”.

After Vanessa fell face first into the mud, the two of them left, because she was in need of a bath and Kal was too, because he thought it would be funny to roll into the dirt as well.

These weeks passed agonizingly slowly. The fact that he wasn’t working, isn’t helping at all.

It did gave him the time to realize one thing though: he is falling for someone he barely knows. Google searches for Olivia Tran didn’t bring him a lot, except one of the things he already knew: she’s a veterinarian at Animal Clinic Westside. No social media whatsoever, something that he finds pretty rare and unique.

But finally the day he has been looking forward to has arrived. He is sitting in the waiting room of his favorite animal clinic. He hasn’t seen her yet and he sure hopes that she’s even working today and if so, that she is going to help him out. If she isn’t helping him and Kal, then it’s the universe telling him she is not the one for him.

If she does help them, he needs to ask her out, because he doesn’t know if he can’t endure time apart from her again.

While he is waiting with Kal, Henry looks around at the other animals, even the creepy bird who hasn’t stopped staring at him. For a second Henry is afraid that the bird will recognize him, but he shakes off that thought before he can think about it even more.

A door opens and he hears: ‘Kal?’

He noticed how in this clinic (and maybe elsewhere too, he doesn’t know), they call in the patients by the names of the animals, instead of the owners. He is eternally grateful, not wanting to draw attention that he is in fact Henry Cavill.

He looks up and sees his favorite vet standing in a doorway. He can’t help but smile. He notices a bright grin on her face and from that alone, this day can’t be ruined if it’s up to him.

Besides, he needs to ask her out now.

Henry stands up, tugs Kal’s leash and walks over to the doctor. Olivia steps to the side, letting him and Kal go into the room first. he smells great, he thinks to himself. Like lavender, he didn’t notice that before.

‘We should weigh him first,’ she says, placing her clipboard to the side. ‘He does look slimmer already.’

‘I’ve been restraining myself,’ he laughs. ‘It’s just really hard to say no to this face.’

‘Weak,’ she comments, chuckling in the process. Henry knew he missed her, but after that comment left her lips, he didn’t realized how much he missed her. ‘Come on, Kal, get your fat ass on the scale.’

Henry places his hand over his mouth, but a loud laugh leaves his lips anyways, especially when Olivia looks at him with a playful look on her face. She checks the screen and claps her hands when she hears a soft beep, indicating the scale is done measuring Kal’s weight. ‘Good boy, Kal, you lost three whole kilos already.’ She presses a kiss on top of his head and looks up at Henry. ‘You’re not as weak as I expected you to be, mister Cavill.’

Henry smiles, as he’s taking in her appearance. Those two times he saw her, she was already breathtaking, but there is something different about her today. Is she wearing lipstick? He notices her hair isn’t in the usual bun. Her wavy locks frame her face and when she runs her fingers through it, he has to look the other way, because damn, she is beautiful and this isn’t the time to faint.

‘Anyways,’ she says, a blush appearing on her cheeks, probably because Henry kept gawking at her, ‘this big boy needs to get his shots today.’

‘I do have to tell you, he isn’t the greatest with needles,’ Henry warns her.

She nods. ‘Aren’t you projecting your own fears on your dog?’ she jokingly asks him.

He wonders if she’s like this with other clients or if she strictly reserves this for him. He sure hopes it’s the latter, though he feels a bit attacked, because it may be true, that thing she said about projecting his own fears on his dog. ‘No, he really doesn’t like them,’ he says nonetheless.

Olivia prepares two shots for the big canine, who keeps staring at her, but letting out a small whimper. ‘I know, baby,’ she says to Kal in a higher voice, ‘it may be scary, but it’s over before you know it.’

She sits next to him, pats his head, while Henry crouches down near the dog as well. He can’t help but stare at her. She is so pretty and the way she is comforting the dog, he falls even more in love with her.

When she grabs the syringe, Henry swallows hard, while Kal’s entire body shakes with excitement.

Olivia glances at him, before she sticks the needle into Kal’s thigh. He doesn’t even whine, but Henry rubs his own face. ‘Are you okay, Henry?’ she asks, but he doesn’t hear what she says anymore, because he passes out.

≫≫≪≪

Henry wakes up in the corner of a room, his back pressed against the wall and his legs sprawled out in front of him. Kal is no where near him, while Henry swore they were together before he fell asleep.

He had a nice dream, of the beautiful doctor at the animal clinic. He dreamed that they were sitting in the park, her head against his shoulder, as they watched Vanessa and Kal play. It was nice to dream about her like that, just like he did that in those three weeks he didn’t see her.

He tries to remember where he is and when he looks around, he sees he is at the animal clinic. The examination table, his own dog sitting next to doctor Olivia Tran, who walks up to him and crouches down in front of him. ‘You’re up,’ she says with a chuckle. ‘For such a big guy, I never assumed you’d pass out like that, simply because I was giving your dog a shot.’

‘Oh fuck,’ he mumbles, rubbing his face, a sad attempt to cover his flushed cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No need to, it was kind of funny, especially when I had to drag you around this examination room and had to explain to the assistant that the loud thud she heard, was the owner that collapsed and not the overweight dog,’ she laughs, handing him a paper cup filled with some water. ‘Here, drink this.’

He takes a tiny sip, still embarrassed of what happened to him. God, did he really just pass out in the examination room because his dog was getting a shot? ‘This is really painful,’ he chuckles, hoping it helps him not to feel the shame he is feeling right now, but it’s not working at all.

She places a slender hand on his calve, causing him to hold his breath because of the sudden touch. Him passing out like that, does have his perks come to think of it. ‘Listen, it happens to the best of us. The first time I had to help deliver a lamb, I threw up and passed out in my own vomit, in front of the entire class, so honestly: it’s okay.’

Olivia stands up again and holds out a hand. He carefully places his in hers and she pulls him up, though he mostly pushes himself up, because he is afraid he’ll drag her down. Not that he would compla—

No, he can’t think like that, not when his jeans is already this tight. Later tonight he can think about the possibilities that came with her pulling him up.

‘Thanks, Olivia,’ he says.

‘Are you feeling okay? You want something sweet to eat, before you hit the road again?’

That is so thoughtful of her. ‘Maybe some sugar would be of help,’ he says.

‘Perks of having a six year old,’ Olivia says, rummaging through her purse, ‘I’m always prepared for emergencies.’ She hands him over two candy bars. ‘You can have those, Vanessa doesn’t like them anyways.’

‘How is Vanessa doing, by the way?’

Henry might not know Olivia very well, but what he does know, is that something happened.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, it’s just that her teacher continues to pester me about how Vanessa should change her work ethic, which I think is too much to ask of a six year old and… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bother you with this. You probably don’t even care.’

‘No, I do care,’ he quickly says. Way too quickly.

Olivia sighs deeply. ‘I’m just worried about my girl sometimes. Comes with becoming a parent I guess.’

He wishes he could agree. ‘Listen, it might be extremely inappropriate, but I have to ask.’ He can hear the wise words his common sense is screaming. Abort mission. Don’t do it, Cavill. For the love of God, don’t ask the gorgeous doctor out on a date. ‘Would you like to go out with me? Like… Tonight? For dinner?’

Olivia crosses her arms in front of her chest. Why isn’t she saying anything? ‘As in a date or as a thank you for saving your dog?’

She is not making it easy for him and he has to give her props for that. That’ll teach him from asking cute women out, who just smiled at him and were nice to his dog. ‘A date,’ he says, all of the sudden not too sure about this action anymore. ‘I know it might be weird, because of what you do for a living and how we met, but I… I’m really interested in you.’

‘In me as a person or what’s in my pants?’

Well both, but he can’t say that, without looking like an absolute creep. ‘In you as a person, what kind of man do you think I am?’

She chuckles. ‘A man who is afraid of needles and can’t say no to his dog,’ she tells him. ‘I’ll go out with you tonight. Can you remember my number or do you want to put it in your phone?’

≫≫≪≪

It took Henry about three hours to go through his entire closet, just to find the perfect outfit for tonight. He didn’t want to look like such a try hard, but he also didn’t want to look like a slob. He eventually opts for a simple black sweater with some fitted jeans and his Chelsea boots. It’s casual, yet it has a fancy streak to it. He grabs the grey blazer from the hanger and while he checks the pockets, he hears Kal whimper, who lays flat on his bed. ‘We’re going out tonight, bud,’ he tells the large canine. ‘You are going to keep Vanessa and her babysitter company, while I’m going out on a date with Olivia.’

He still can’t believe this is happening. He asked the doctor out on a date and the most bizarre thing of it all, was that she said yes.

Olivia Tran said yes to him.

He would lie if he said that he wasn’t nervous. In all honesty, he is about to die from his nerves.

He checks the clock and realizes he should leave his place now. He clicks his tongue, causing Kal to follow Henry downstairs. He puts on Kal’s leash and when he closed off his place, the two of them get in the car. He hums along with the song on the radio, as he drives to her house.

In the past he went on tons of dates. He likes dates, getting to know someone and finding out whether or not they are compatible. But there is something different about this date. He wants to get to know more about Olivia, but he is afraid that once she gets to know him, she’s not interested in him anymore.

He parks his car in front of her house and he takes a deep breath, trying to procrastinate the moment that he has to walk up to the door. Kal whines, as if he knows where they are and he sees that as a moment to get out of the car. The two of them walk up to the door and he rings the doorbell.

‘Mommy,’ Vanessa says from the other side of the door, ‘Henry is here.’

‘Do not open the door!’

‘But mom…’

‘Sweetheart, what if it’s not Henry, but a pervert?’ Olivia asks.

‘Oh my God, Olivia, the person on the other side of the door can hear you!’ he hears a different female voice scream and he can’t help but chuckle. He wondered what kind of household Olivia would have and somehow this situation seems fitting.

‘Mom, what’s a pervert?’ Vanessa asks.

‘A disgusting human being,’ Olivia explains.

‘Is Henry a pervert? I thought he was Superman?’

‘Olivia, I mean it,’ the other woman says, ‘people on the other side of the door can hear you two.’

The door finally opens and he sees both Vanessa and Olivia standing in the doorway. ‘Hi Henry,’ his already favorite duo say in unison.

‘Hi there,’ he says with a smile. It’s six in the evening and Vanessa is already in her pajama. From the looks of it, it’s light pink with bears on it.

Kal pushes past him, to give the little girl a lick on her cheek, causing her to giggle.

As endearing as that sight may be, he can’t help but look at Olivia, who wears a grey plaid pants paired with a black shirt that hugs her upper body. The outfit shows off her godly proportions. He even sees a hint of tattoos on her arms, but she grabs a coat and it covers them up before he can see them properly.

But if he saw it correctly and she does have tattoos… That’s almost unfair. She is already beautiful, but add tattoos in the mix and that gives him enough to dream about tonight.

Another woman appears in the doorway and she hums in approval. ‘It’s such a shame that I wasn’t on call when your dog started to throw up,’ she says with a smile. She extends her hand and says: ‘Hi, I’m Belle.’

He saw her earlier today. She is another vet and when he was paying for the appointment, she bumped her hip against Olivia’s and they shared a look, one that best friends share. Guess Belle is the certified baby sitter. He quickly shakes her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, I’m Henry.’

‘God, you were right, Olivia,’ Belle says, ‘he is even more handsome in real life.’

Henry detects a fire red blush on Olivia’s cheeks, but she looks down and slips on a pair of boots that have a heel, something he hasn’t seen her wear before. He wants to take in her entire appearances, glancing her over more than once, but he restrains himself, since he doesn’t want to look overly eager.

‘That must be a sign that we need to go,’ Olivia says, before she pinches her friend in her side. She leans down, to give Vanessa a kiss. ‘Be nice to auntie Belle and Kal, okay?’

‘Okay, mommy,’ Vanessa says. ‘Can Kal sleep in my room tonight?’

‘He can,’ Olivia says.

The little girl smiles and looks up at Henry. ‘Is that okay with you too, mister Henry?’ she asks. ‘Kal is your dog.’

‘He can sleep in your room,’ Henry says, touched by the fact that she actually thought she should ask him about this. Olivia is raising such a lovely and polite girl. He truly admires her.

While Olivia rummages through her purse, Belle crouches down and whispers something in Vanessa’s ear.

‘Okay, I’m ready to go,’ Olivia says with a smile.

‘Enjoy your night,’ Vanessa says to the both of them, as Olivia steps out of the doorway. ‘And you two shouldn’t have too much fun.’

Henry nearly chokes on his own spit. ‘Belle, I swear to—’ Olivia wants to say something, but swallows the words before she can express her true feelings. ‘I love you, Vanessa,’ Olivia says to her daughter.

‘I love you too,’ she says to her mother. ‘Will you give me a kiss when you get back?’

‘Of course, angel.’

Vanessa smiles. ‘Bye, mister Henry,’ she says to him.

‘Bye sunshine,’ he says to the young girl, who starts to beam with happiness when she hears her new nickname. He doesn’t know where “sunshine” came from, it just slipped out.

Olivia and Henry walk to his car, but he can’t help but notice how she keeps looking up to him. He opens the door for her and he watches her get in. He waves to the two—three, if you include Kal—in the doorway, before he gets in himself.

‘I’m sorry,’ Olivia says, the second the door closes.

‘No need to,’ Henry laughs, starting his car. ‘It was funny.’

She snorts, while she waves to Belle, Kal and her daughter as he drives off. ‘Well, leave it to Belle to embarrass me.’

‘She a close friend?’

Olivia nods. ‘Very close friend. When I found out I was pregnant with Vanessa, she was there for me when no one else was. She forced me to live in her house for a while, even after Vanessa was born.’

Henry frowns. ‘I thought it was just your ex who wasn’t there for you.’

She sighs. ‘Well, my parents and two brothers weren’t too keen on me having a kid out of wedlock. My mom kicked me out seven years ago and since that moment, no one has tried to contact me. I haven’t seen them ever since.’

This is un-fucking-believable. He knows for sure that, had this happened within his family, his brothers would be over the moon to be an uncle of yet another kid and his parents would love another addition to the family.

And her family just kicks her out?

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he says and he means it from the bottom of his heart. ‘Were you close with your family?’

She shrugs. ‘Growing up I was. Not really with my mom, but with my father and brothers I was super close. I thought that they would love it, a little bean added to the family. Guess I was wrong. But you know, I have Belle, so that’s enough for me right now.’

Right now. That means the door is open for someone else, right? Or is he trying to read something that isn’t there?

‘By the way,’ she says, ‘how did you come up with “sunshine”?’

Why does Henry feels like he just got caught? ‘Just slipped, I guess. I’m so—’

‘Don’t you dare apologize, Cavill,’ she interrupts him. ‘I love the nickname and did you see Vanessa’s face?’

He does actually. He recalls the way her face lit up with happiness and pride.

Olivia looks to the side and when he stops for the traffic lights, he meets her gaze. She smiles. ‘I’m really happy we’re on this date,’ she says. ‘And maybe I’m a bit rusty in the whole dating department and is what I’m about to say way too blunt, but I need to tell you that you look really handsome tonight.’

Maybe that is too blunt, but Henry doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. His hands get a bit clammy. ‘Thank you, Olivia. Allow me to be just as blunt.’

‘Surprise me.’

‘You look stunning and I’m really happy that you agreed on going out with me.’

A/N: Don’t worry, the next chapter will cover their date 😉

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