#he also constantly looks exhausted which is strangely endearing but also . sleep

[thefunniestguy]

this man is a giant actually /j

[lifenodaijobu]

Just a little list of my soft Draco obsession

For  @vemodalensx

Theres a few here but I’ve left some out since the list was getting a bit long. I might make another list with more.

The list separated between cute Draco and vulnerable Draco just so you can choose whether or not you want a bit of sadness with your softness ^3^

Oh and ofc it goes without saying that the whole list is Bottom Draco hehe

Cute Soft Draco

Flower Crowns (2.4k words)

It started with a single flower 🥀 Draco makes flower crowns for Harry and that is how the whole school finds out about them. A happy dose of Harry with flowers in his hair, and a smitten Draco.

Dreaming of you (21k words)

Harry has nightmares, he wishes for a night when he can sleep without nightmares. What happens when he starts dreaming of Draco Malfoy? Draco left the wizarding world after the war, he's a librarian and lives peacefully in muggle London, what happens when Harry fucking Potter shows up at his work place?

Honey (

Harry is sick of Draco's oh-so-adorable endearments.

The Care and Management of Volatile Veelas 

Harry adopts a Veela. He really didn’t mean to.

Quidditch Wife (Part 2)

Theres no real summary for this except for  It's got all my favourite guilty pleasures, like protective!Harry and vulnerable!Draco, with a side of jealous!Harry and SportyQuidditch!Harry (and I think the top!Harry rather goes without saying).

All our pieces....fall right into places series

The first story:  Draco had had a crush for a while and now that he had Harry in his bed...He was everything that Draco needed.

Trick or Treat

Harry had no idea that he was such a fetishist - a fact which he discovers on Halloween.

Pretty

Harry finds a pair of stockings in the back of their dresser.

The Sweater

After being forced to room together in 8th year, Draco and Harry become friends and decide to continue their living arrangements post Hogwarts. The only problem is, Draco can't seem to stop stealing Harry's clothes.

1095 Roses for a life time

Being woken up by the lips of your boyfriend is always a nice surprise, especially on the morning of yours third anniversary of dating, which leads to hot and passionate morning activity. But all this is just to indulge in themselves, Harry's surprise includes roses and a promise for a lifetime. Will they be the right choice?

Get your kinks out

Harry plays seeker for the Magpies, and he discovers that one of his teammates secretly wears lace panties. What begins as a sexual relationship becomes increasingly complicated by Harry’s fame, Draco’s family, and Harry’s ambivalent feelings about dominating Draco.

Can’t say no

Draco really has the worst friends. When they put a spell on him that he has to say no to everything Harry says.....things don't turn out well.

OR

That time when Harry proposes and gets turned down because of his horrible friends.

What Draco wants

Out of anything a petty fight with Harry Potter could have led to, Draco Malfoy least expected it to end with him bent over a table, questioning his relationship and feelings for Potter, and having the best sex of his life.

Criminal

Things were going just fine for Draco Malfoy. He successfully conned and counted cards across Europe and America, amassing a small fortune, along with a lengthy rap sheet. That was until he made the grave mistake of returning to England for a high stakes card game and got himself caught – by Harry Potter no less. Now, Draco is stuck in England under Auror Potter’s guard with no friends, no distractions, and no escape. How the hell will he pass the time? And since when did Potter get so bloody fit? 

Things Change

Harry and Draco's friends notice something different about them when they fight. See what they find out when they walk down an empty hallway. 

Whats a little veritasium between two sworn enemies?

Draco Malfoy has a nasty habit of always coming across such bad luck no matter where circumstance presents itself and unfortunately that doesn't seem to change when his bloody nemesis Harry Potter over hears him talking about Veritaserum potions in the hallways past curfew. ( It was Pansy fault really)

Harry wants to know what the Slytherin boy is up to, especially with how nervous Malfoy is, but is that ALL Harry wants to know?

Mr Right Now - side note: Cedric/Draco

What do you do when you're feeling down about your ex? Make him jealous! Story features Cedric Diggory and Draco Malfoy trying to win back their loves, but somehow end up falling into each other's arms

For the love a kitten 

With Voldemort Dead, life is not easy for Harry as Old friends become enemies and old enemies become friend. With the return of three Slytherins, Harry life is turned upside down.

How to prepare for a wedding night

I have a neighbour. He is stuck in a loveless relationship and an arranged marriage. He has zero experience in bed. He needs my help so that his love life won't suck for the next few decades. He needs a sex teacher. Oh... and the neighbour happens to be Draco freaking Malfoy. And I might be a little tiny bit in love with the git...

Draco's Scent

In which Harry can't be around Draco for long without the boy's stupid smell messing with his mind, and he really, really hates that.

Turn The Heat Up

Wonky Cooling Charms result in interesting revelations

Flirt

Draco and Hermione make a devastating duo at the Ministry as the respective Department Heads of Wizarding Culture Preservation and Muggle Relations. When Harry Potter gets involved in their latest joint project, Draco can’t seem to stop himself from constantly flirting with him even when it doesn’t seem to affect the golden boy at all. He’s wrong. Harry is most definitely affected. Includes Slytherin shenanigans, Draco sucking at quidditch, and Harry trying not to be charmed. Draco POV.

Angsty/Vulnerable Soft Draco

The Draco Malfoy incident - side note: I cried big time

Draco Malfoy is best friends with a Hufflepuff. A HUFFLEPUFF! He's also partnered with a redhead git, trying to hide from an obsessive green-eyed saviour and has become overly fond with sunrises. It's exhausting. Can't a man plan an assassination in peace around here?

I’m not in your dreams

Draco has dreamt with Harry's voice since he was fourteen, so there's no doubt for him about who his soulmate is. Now, in their Eighth Year, Harry has finally dreamt with his soulmate's voice too. The problem is that Draco was born mute.

Yours for the taking

Draco was raised to be the perfect Omega, but there are things even he cannot endure. When he discovers just what Tom Riddle's plans for him are once he's claimed him he is confronted with an impossible decision. Only one thing remains clear: he will never be able to go back home.

Luckily, Harry Potter is there to save the day

Rough on you - side note: Dark Harry. This is more vulnerable Draco than soft Draco so please read the tags before you start the story :) I was unsure whether I wanted to add this here but hey-ho

"I'm the only one that can give you want you really want." Harry spun Draco around and held his arms at his side and he pressed against his back, whispering against his throat. "That can force you, that can humiliate you… that can hurt you, and you want it. You want me."

Harry is having a bad day. Draco just cannot learn to keep his mouth shut. Neither of them would have predicted it would lead to this.

But who guards the dragon?

This is an expansion of my one-shot, It'll be Okay. You don't have to read it first, it will be in the story. Requested. DMHP Sub/Dom relationship. Slash. Don't like, don't read. Harry thinks a few thinks through, then comes into his creature inheritance. He finds out that he is the dominant mate to one Draco Malfoy. But things are never easy for the boy who lived

Taken For Granted

Having pined for Harry for long enough, Draco decided that it was time to give up and move on. What happens when Harry realizes too late what he's lost?

Mourning

Harry returns to school to complete his NEWTs. There he finds a much changed Draco Malfoy and surprisingly subdued Professor Snape.

In your arms, rests my world

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it.

“You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

Inside your mind

Goyle's taken it upon himself to act as Malfoy's personal, one-man guard and Harry can't help but feel like it's only making the bullying worse.

"I'll Protect You," and you can seal that with an Unbreakable Vow

His friends may tease but Harry doesn't feel bad for keeping a close eye on the Slytherin boy of one Draco Malfoy, after all someone has to do it. So when Harry secretly follows the pure-blood boy out past the courtyard, there's nothing strange or unusual about it; nor is it wrong.

Unfortunately the same can not be said for the scenario Harry accidentally stumbles upon as he can't help but stare in horror. It's not just wrong. It's absolutely despicable and Harry, well, Harry just has to do something about it.

A Big Black Sky

Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom.

Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's.

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky."

Song To Say Goodbye

Draco should have remembered that life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it to. Somewhere along the way he forgot to always be careful and was left with nothing. It was hard enough getting himself together the first time, can he do it again?

Small spoiler for Song to Say Goodbye below

Its not Drarry Endgame: he ends up with a OMC cuz Harrys a big dickhead

[c-optimistic]

diner

or, lena is an irregular regular, kara is stupidly smitten, and alex is really tired with the both of them

Waitressing at her foster father’s 24-hour diner was not how Kara thought she’d be spending her summer. Then again, she also hadn’t imagined she’d end up moving back home because she lost her internship.

(Snapper, she thought for the hundredth time just in that last hour, the name coming out as a curse, reveling in imagining spitting it right into his face.

She hadn’t particularly thought she was capable of hating anyone, but Snapper...he came close.)

“Kara, can you get her?” Alex asked, gesturing towards a table in the back with a title of her head, where a young woman with long, dark hair was sitting, looking engrossed in whatever she was writing in her notebook. “I want to take my break.”

“Oh, is Kelly calling?”

“Shut up,” Alex muttered, cheeks pinking slightly. She huffed for good measure as she took off her apron and tossed it at Kara, already on her phone before she even took a single step outside the diner.

Kara watched Alex go, feeling conflicted.

(She was happy for her sister, she deserved something good in her life. But there were also some feelings she wasn’t altogether proud of, bits of jealousy, annoyance at how much time Alex spent with Kelly instead of her, fear that she was losing her sister.

In a long list of odd things about her, this was the newest oddity: Kara was simultaneously utterly pleased for her sister and resentful at the new shift in their relationship, the room she had to make for Kelly.)

With a sigh, she pulled out her notepad and clicked her pen, approaching the only occupied table in the diner.

(It was late, later than Kara normally worked, this shift reserved for the college students home for the summer looking for a way to make some cash.

Though, considering Kara was one of those college students home for the summer, she supposed this shift was perfect for her.)

“Hi, welcome to Jeremiah’s. Can I get you something to drink?” Kara said robotically, her eyes on her notepad. After a few seconds of silence, she looked up, realizing that the woman hadn’t even stopped writing in her notebook. “Sorry, am I interrupting? I can come back,” she began, even going as far as taking a step back, when suddenly the woman moved. She swept her dark hair back and turned to look at Kara, blue—or maybe green, Kara wasn’t quite sure—eyes meeting Kara’s levelly.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, snapping her notebook shut. “Could I get two coffees please? And a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

Kara blinked. They did not serve PB&Js, they never had, but for whatever reason, it felt like her tongue had been glued to the roof of her mouth when she tried to tell the woman just that. Instead, what came out was a rather inconvenient, “Sure, coming right up.”

She walked over to the kitchen, frowning a little bit when the cook—who had obviously heard everything—eyed her in amusement. Mon-El wiped his hands on his apron, crossing his arms over his chest as she put on a fresh pot of coffee.

“You lied to a customer,” he said with faux-disappointment, grinning. “You and I both know there’s no peanut butter.”

“No,” Kara denied, feeling a flare of anxiety in her chest, “I didn’t lie. I just—oh shut up, why don’t you help out instead of laughing at me?”

“What am I supposed to do?” he said, not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t reveling in her embarrassment. “You’re the one that lied to a customer just because you think she’s pretty.”

“I don’t...you’re such a—why don’t you do something useful with your time, huh?”

“Right, right, right,” Mon-El said, shaking his head slowly, “so I guess you don’t want me to tell you Imra has a brand new jar of peanut butter she bought the other day.” He sighed dramatically. “It’s not like she lives five minutes away and could be here by the time the coffee is ready.”

“You would ask her for me?” Kara found herself saying hopefully, eyeing Mon-El with a little bit of suspicion. “I thought Imra was focusing on her studying and couldn’t waste time here.”

“You want me to ask her?” Mon-El said, eyes widening, smile slipping. “No way, I’m already in the doghouse. She told me if I interrupted her studying again, she’d break up with me.” He gave Kara a knowing look. “Besides, Imra wouldn’t say no to you, especially if you told her it’s for a pretty girl.”

“Stop saying that,” Kara hissed, turning to look over at the woman, relieved to see she was reabsorbed in her notebook. “That’s not what happened.”

“Sure, sure,” Mon-El said casually, pointing at the carafe and the coffee that slowly trickled into it, “but tick tock, Kara.”

She glared at him, but pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Imra, ignoring Mon-El’s smug look when Imra immediately agreed. And like Mon-El had said, by the time the coffee was done, Imra had stopped by, handing the jar of peanut butter over as she stole a glance at the woman sitting in the back, giving Kara an approving thumbs up before Mon-El stole her away for a ‘study break,’ which made Kara pretend to gag.

“So,” Kara said, clearly her throat loudly as she approached the woman, setting down the two cups of coffee and the plate with the sandwich, “are you waiting for someone?” Kara pointed to the second cup, and the woman looked away from her notebook, Kara’s question finally sinking in.

“Hmm? Oh, no. Those are both for me.”

“Oh. Well, refills are free you know. You don’t need to order two.”

The woman blinked, then a small smile appeared on her face. “That’s—thank you, um…?”

“—Kara. My name is Kara.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kara,” the woman said, her voice softer. “I’m Lena.”

“Enjoy your sandwich. And don’t be afraid to shout at me if you need anything, okay?” Kara grinned, rocked back on her heels, then turned away. When she went into the back, Alex was there with Mon-El and Imra, and was eyeing her oddly.

“Really, Kara?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

“We should probably add peanut butter and jelly to the menu. In the interest of our customers.”

“Right,” Mon-El said, stretching out the word, chuckling when Imra rolled her eyes. “In the interest of our customers.”

“Really, Kara?” Alex just repeated, letting out a sigh.

x

The next time Lena came in, it was seven in the morning, and she looked like she hadn’t slept all night.

“I haven’t slept all night,” she informed Kara with a small smile, “but it was worth it.”

“Hot date?” Kara asked as she pulled out her notebook, feeling her cheeks flame as soon as the question slipped out, embarrassed at both the jealousy in her tone and the distinctly unprofessional and inappropriate nature of the question.

Thankfully, or maybe just luckily, Lena didn’t seem to hear Kara. “Can I get two cups of coffee and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

“Sure thing. But um, you remember that refills are free, right?”

“Hmm?” Lena said distractedly, her eyes now on her phone, frown forming on her lips. “Thanks so much, um,” she turned to Kara, eyes narrowing briefly before falling onto Kara’s nametag, smile reemerging. “Kara,” she finished proudly, as if Kara hadn’t introduced herself just days before.

Kara frowned as she took orders from her other customers, knowing that a crease had appeared between her eyebrows as she approached Alex at the register.

“She doesn’t remember me,” she complained in a whisper.

“Who doesn’t remember you?” Alex mock-whispered right back, eyeing Kara oddly.

“Lena, the woman, the PB&J woman,” Kara explained, rolling her eyes when Alex’s confusion only cleared at the last explanation.

“You mean your crush,” Alex supplied easily, motioning for Kara to go on.

Kara felt her brow furrow further, and she went crossed-eyed as she followed Alex reaching out and pressing against her forehead with her eyes. “I don’t have a crush,” she denied, refocusing her gaze. Alex made a noncommittal sound, lips pressing together. “I don’t,” Kara insisted.

“I think your crush is wondering where her coffee and sandwich is, Kara,” Alex said, motioning with a tilt of her head towards Lena. “If it bothers you so much, just talk to her.”

“Right. Right. Just talk to her.”

(She hyped herself up as she took Lena’s coffee and sandwich to her, but when the woman gave her a small smile, her eyes meeting Kara’s just briefly before she turned back to her phone, Kara chickened out.

Lena deserved to eat her sandwich in peace, and Kara had already made enough of a fool of herself for one day.)

x

Lena’s presence at the diner began to become regular.

Or rather, it became expectedly unexpected. She showed up several times a week without fail, but the times she showed up were maddenly strange. Once, it was in the middle of the night, another the wee hours of the morning, another in the mid-afternoon, and yet another time smack dab in the middle of the dinner rush. Every time she showed up, she looked exhausted, sleep-deprived, and totally out of it.

And every time, without fail, she ordered her PB&J and two coffees and reintroduced herself before asking Kara for her name.

It drove Kara mad. It made her feel oddly endeared. It left her anxiously waiting for the next time Lena would walk into the diner.

(Mon-El found the whole thing incredibly hilarious. Nia and Brainy, video calling from National City to express how much they missed Kara, immediately noticed she was distracted and kept her eyes on the diner’s entrance, and made fun of her constantly after that.

And Alex? Alex rolled her eyes, sighed, and generally made a big deal of it, but every time Lena walked through the door, Alex would let Kara get her table.

For Kara’s part, she endured the teasing and the laughing without comment, but she rather thought she gave herself away when she made sure to always have a tub of peanut butter on hand, just for Lena.)

x

They talked beyond the normal ‘what can I get you?’ after one month of Lena’s inconsistently consistent visits to the diner.

She came in, her shoes and coat drenched, her umbrella a broken mess, dripping rainwater onto the linoleum floor. There were purple bags under her eyes, her skin paler than normal, and she heaved a thankful sigh when Kara grabbed a handful of paper towels and handed it to her.

(Kara tried very hard to be respectful and avert her eyes, but it was easy to get distracted by the rainwater trailing down Lena’s neck.)

“Pretty bad storm, huh?” Kara said stupidly, the sound of thunder cracking right at that moment, as if to highlight the obviousness of her statement. “I, um, I live above the diner? So I could get you some dry clothes? If you wanted?”

Lena paused her efforts at patting herself dry, and she stared at Kara with a slightly ajar mouth. “You guys take customer service pretty seriously, don’t you?” she said finally, chuckling. Kara, whose cheeks were bright red, crossed her arms over her chest and forced out a laugh.

“Oh, um, well. You know. Only the best for our regulars.”

(Dumb, Kara thought. That was so dumb.)

“I—” Lena began, but Kara would never know what she intended to say, because right at that moment, Alex showed up, mop in hand.

“You’re dripping on our floors, Lena,” she said, not unkindly, maneuvering her mop in such a way that Lena was forced to take a step closer to Kara—nearly brushing up against her. Not for the first time, Kara was simultaneously annoyed and grateful for her sister’s meddling.

“I’m so sorry,” Lena rushed out, realizing in that moment that her notebook was also sopping wet, the crestfallen expression on her face feeling like a knife twisting in Kara’s chest. “I hadn’t realized how much rain there was, I can just go—”

“—wait, no. Don’t go.” Kara avoided Alex’s gaze entirely, choosing to stare at her shoes instead. “I’ll grab you some clothes and a hairdryer so you can dry off your notebook, and Alex will get you something to eat. Two coffees and a PB&J, right?” Kara looked up, her breath catching just a little when she noticed Lena’s expression: curious, confused, and coy.

“Is that really okay?” she asked, seeming more than a little unsure. Kara nodded quickly, shooting Alex a look and making her nod as well.

“You’re Kara’s favorite regular,” Alex said unhelpfully, grinning when Kara glared at her. “Of course it’s okay.” Lena frowned.

“Oh, sorry, have we met before?”

(And oh, it was like a punch to the gut.

How could someone forget this many times?)

“Don’t worry about it, Lena,” Kara said with a grin, trying to find the humor in it somehow. “Let’s get you dry first.”

(And later, when Lena left while still wearing Kara’s favorite National City University sweatshirt, Kara just sighed.

And later, when Alex asked if she got Lena’s number and Kara confessed she didn’t think to ask, Alex let out a groan so loud that all their customers turned to give her an odd look.)

x

Two days later, Lena came into the diner wearing Kara’s sweatshirt.

She fell asleep at her table while waiting for her coffee and sandwich, and when Kara gently woke her up she gave Kara a brilliant smile and asked, “Did you know there’s a diner in Midvale that has the best PB&Js in the world?”

“You really need some rest,” Kara replied softly, but Lena’s focus had shifted to her coffee.

And Kara just let it be.

x

“Can I get three coffees?” Lena asked the next time she came in, nearing midnight. Kara hadn’t even had this shift, but thanks to a new system developed by Alex, whoever happened to be working when Lena came in had the obligation to text Kara (who would, embarrassingly enough, toss her apron on and rush downstairs to the diner in order to serve her favorite customer—a customer who still could not remember all the times Kara had introduced herself).

“Three? Are you trying to sleep even less now?”

“I sleep,” Lena defended, though she didn’t sound like she believed her own words. “No,” she continued, shaking her head as if to physically dispel Kara’s distracting words, “one is for you.”

“For me?” Kara could hardly believe her own two ears. Was the pining and the hoping finally paying off? “You want to have coffee with me?”

“Only if you’re not busy, um, Kara,” Lena said, eyes dropping to Kara’s hastily pinned nametag, apparently completely missing Kara’s overjoyed tone and the way her face fell as she realized Lena didn’t actually remember her. “It’s just—this thing I’m working on is a pain, and sometimes talking it out can help. But I don’t have anyone I can talk to so I thought...well, you’ve been so nice, and I figured I’d ask.” She bit her lip, then hid her face behind her hands. “It was a dumb idea, I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Kara sighed, feeling bad for this woman, and wondering if she should do some research on the effects of sleep deprivation. “No, I can be your sounding board. Let me get your coffee and sandwich, okay?”

(They talked well into the morning—or well, Lena talked. And Kara learned so much. She learned Lena was in Midvale only for the summer, that she had to go back to National City in the fall. She learned Lena was in the middle of what could be a groundbreaking scientific breakthrough on reversing climate change, but that her brother had all but abandoned her in the effort.

She learned that Lena was smart. She was intelligent—talking about theories and principles that Kara had always thought only Alex would ever discuss with her—but she was more than that. She had a whip-like wit, she was clever, funny, and just plain brilliant.

But more than anything, Kara learned about how much Lena cared. She talked passionately about the issues she thought science could solve, admitted she prioritized her work over sleep rather regularly, spending the strangest sort of hours at the lab she’d outfitted in Midvale. She mentioned how much she wanted to just do, how she just wanted to help people, in any way she could.

And if Kara wasn’t in trouble before, well. She definitely was now.)

x

Lena walked into the diner one late afternoon, looking haggard and exhausted, and Kara couldn’t help but laugh as she brought her coffee and a sandwich.

“You can’t remember refills are free or that my name is Kara, but you can remember to come to this diner?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Lena said conspiratorially, not even looking over at Kara, clearly too tired to have even noticed who was talking to her, “but I think I have a crush on the waitress.”

“Wanna know a secret?” Alex called from the other side of the diner. “The waitress has a crush on you, too.”

Kara turned to shoot her sister a glare, so she missed the smile that spread on Lena’s face.

x

“Did you know that I’m only here in Midvale for the summer?” Lena asked Kara sullenly one early morning, a despondent expression on her face as she looked at her sandwich.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” Kara chuckled, moving to sit across from Lena.

(This was new—staying with Lena and chatting with her as she drank her coffee and ate her sandwich. Alex rolled her eyes every time she noticed, and if Eliza didn’t own the diner, Kara was pretty sure she’d be fired.

But although Lena could never fully remember what they talked about, she seemed to enjoy the company.)

“I’ve had my best meals here. I’ll miss it.”

“I genuinely worry if you eat at all when you’re not here if these are your best meals,” Kara confessed, watching with slight amusement as Lena drained the last of her coffee.

“It’s less the food and more the company, really,” Lena said as she put her coffee cup down, her eyes meeting Kara’s briefly.

“How many hours of sleep did you get last night?”

“Hmm?”

“So none?”

“I plead the fifth, your honor,” Lena muttered, averting her gaze. This drew another chuckle out of Kara.

“Come on, why do you bother with flirting when you’re so sleep deprived you won’t remember it anyway?”

Lena let out a soft sigh, meeting Kara’s eyes once more. “It’s the principle of the thing,” she breathed out.

Kara’s heart stuttered and she didn’t protest again.

x

“Kara, your girlfriend can’t nap at the table,” Alex said tiredly the next afternoon, pointing to where Lena was sitting, head pillowed by her arms, her breathing slow and deep. Kara rolled her eyes in response, making no move to go wake Lena up. Alex snorted. “Didn’t deny the girlfriend part though, did you?”

x

“Can I get—”

“A PB&J and two coffees?” Kara finished for Lena, holding up the plate in her hand and setting down a cup of coffee. “Refills are free, just so you know.”

“Right, right. I forgot,” Lena chuckled, cheeks reddening. “You know Jeremiah’s has—”

“—the best PB&Js in the world? So you’ve said,” Kara finished with a smile, sitting down across from Lena at her table. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” Lena admitted sheepishly, taking a sip of her coffee and closing her eyes at the taste—or more likely, at the introduction of caffeine into her system. “I had an idea last night, but nothing I tried would work. I think maybe I need to—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re interested,” Lena supplied, eyes narrowing just a little.

“We talk about your work pretty often, Lena. Of course I’m interested.” Lena nodded, but she looked uneasy, even suspicious. For a wild moment, Kara wondered if she was in that Adam Sandler movie, and the very thought made her feel a tad nauseous. “I know you forget some details, but you know we talk, don’t you?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Of course I do, Kara,” she said, waving Kara’s concern off easily. “I just—why are you interested?”

“In what?”

“In me?”

“Is that a trick question?” Kara asked, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. She knew her crinkle was making a stellar comeback, despite having mostly been held at bay by Lena’s near constant presence at the diner and the hope she’d been nursing in a tiny corner of her heart. Did Lena really not realize how much Kara, well, liked her?

“No, I just—” She cut herself off, looking more tired than ever. “I guess I don’t understand. I’m just some random customer who stole your sweatshirt and talks about work all the time. I don’t get why you’d bother.”

(Kara’s heart broke. Because Lena clearly didn’t realize how amazing she was.

And Kara suddenly knew she had to do everything in her power to make Lena see the light.)

“Because you’re incredible,” she said, not quite thinking it through. Or perhaps, she was thinking it and just chose to say it aloud. In any event, it had its desired effect: Lena’s eyes widened and she was shocked enough that she didn’t seem inclined to interrupt. So Kara rushed on. “I mean, you drink entirely too much coffee. You definitely need to sleep more. And I’m a little worried about your diet, and coming from me, that means your diet is really bad. But, gosh, Lena. You’re brilliant.”

“I really don’t think—” Lena tried, her cheeks bright red, but Kara wasn’t anywhere close to done.

“—you’re witty and kind and so smart. You care about so much, and you get this funny look on your face every time I have to remind you that refills are free, and when you’re really passionate about something, you wave your hands around. Also you snore a bit, but it’s the good kind, you know?”

“I snore? Wait, there’s a good kind of snoring?” Lena muttered, but Kara was on a roll.

“Sometimes when you laugh, you let out a snort, and that means you actually found it funny. And when you remember you’re talking about something we’ve already talked about, you duck your head and mumble, but then continue talking about it anyway. Why do I bother?” Kara asked rhetorically. “I’d be crazy not to.”

For nearly a whole minute, Lena was silent, and for a moment, Kara worried she’d been too much, revealed too much. But then, a smile broke on Lena’s face—wide, uninhibited, and overwhelmed. “Well, tell me how you really feel, why don’t you,” she joked, going for smug but managing only awe.

“I’m never going to get my sweatshirt back, am I?” Kara asked, dropping the topic they were on, both to spare Lena any further blushing (the red reaching past her ears and down her neck) and also to hide the depths of her own feelings (though she was rather sure that was a lost cause at this point).

“Nope,” Lena said, stressing the pop in the word and returning to her coffee.

x

“I was twelve the first time I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, you know,” Lena informed her conversationally one night. She kept her tone purposefully light, but Kara could tell it was taking a lot more effort for her to speak than normal. Her eyes were dull, the bags beneath her eyes still prominent but not quite purple like they’d been earlier in the summer. It looked like, in all honesty, that she’d had a decent amount of sleep recently, but for whatever reason, that didn’t translate to her mood.

“Twelve? That’s pretty late in the game,” Kara offered, chewing on her lip. She’d had her first PB&J when she was fourteen, so she wasn’t really in much of a position to judge. Then again, considering she didn’t even know the things existed until after she landed on this planet, she thought she could be excused.

“My adoptive parents were...well, strict,” Lena explained, shrugging. She was on her third cup of coffee, idly tearing at the sandwich in front of her, not having taken a single bite since she had it placed in front of her. “They were more into forcing my brother and I to pretend we liked foie gras and caviar at their silly functions than they were into feeding us something we may actually like.”

“Foie gras, huh,” Kara repeated, trying hard not to say anything. And yet: “Isn’t that when they—”

“Yup, that’s it.”

“Huh.”

“One night, after barely eating anything at one of these functions, my parents sent my brother and I to bed. You know, kind of like that scene in Sound of Music, except without the singing.”

“I’m sure it was adorable anyway,” Kara said lightly, hoping to make Lena smile. It worked: Lena’s lips quirked, and her eyes—so lifeless when they were usually so full of light—brightened just a bit.

“We decided we’d sneak into the kitchen. Get some real food from the staff. Something, you know?” Lena continued, urged on by Kara’s nodding. “But our nanny caught us.”

“Oh. So it actually was like Sound of Music,” Kara blurted out, unable to help her silly joke. Her view of Lena suddenly had morphed—she saw a lonely girl adopted into a rich family, and the obvious admiration in her voice for her brother taking on a tinge of melancholy as Kara remembered their relationship was strained. And it made her sad.

(Kara was no stranger to pain or sorrow, but she had always been able to comfort herself and surround herself with those she loved and loved her.

But who loved Lena?)

“She was furious at us,” Lena continued, only raising an eyebrow at Kara’s interruption, though her lips had quirked once more. “If we’d gotten caught by my father—or worse, my mother—she would have lost her job.” She let out a sigh, a frown tugging at her tiny smile until it evaporated completely, her brows furrowing, and her eyes shifting to the ceiling. “I told her what we were doing, why we weren’t in bed, and she got this look on her face. I can’t explain it.” Lena finally noticed she’d shredded her sandwich into an unrecognizable mess, and she withdrew her hands from the table, though Kara could tell she was still fidgeting with them in her lap. “She had her own small room. Had outfitted it with one of those mini-fridges and a burner plate, so she could avoid taking meals in the kitchen. I didn’t realize until much later that she had wanted to stay out of my mother’s way as much as possible.”

“Oh Lena,” Kara muttered, hearing the self-disgust in Lena’s tone, and not knowing what to do or say.

“So she took us to her room. Showed us her stash of peanut butter. Made us as many sandwiches as we wanted that night. She swore us to secrecy—my mother would never have approved of it, I don’t even think she allowed peanut butter in the house.” Lena stopped suddenly, the slight amusement in her tone dissipating as she took in a deep breath. “It didn’t matter anyway. She was fired soon after.” Lena sighed again and fell silent.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Kara asked quietly when the silence stretched out for several long minutes, Lena clearly lost in thought.

“I just—it was the first time I vividly remember someone doing something kind just for the sake of being kind,” Lena explained slowly, her eyes meeting Kara’s. “I named the environmental initiative after her, you know. The BETH Project. But right as I’m about to make a breakthrough—” She stopped, groaned, dropping her head to the table. “My brother cut funding. Decided he wants LuthorCorp to focus on other endeavours. He says this is a waste of time.” Her voice was slightly muffled by the wooden table, but her words were crystal clear.

(And suddenly, a lot of things made sense: Lena’s money, her genius, her relationship with her brother, the fact she could just up and go to a small town in order to work on her research.

She was Lena Luthor, as in one of the smartest people in the world.

And Kara had been too busy feeding her sandwiches and falling in love with her to notice.)

“When did this happen?” Kara asked, her thoughts straying to something else. After all, if her research had been defunded, did that mean Lena would leave?

“Yesterday. After I got off the phone with him, I just...slept. For I think eighteen hours straight. I just—I’m wanted back soon, and I realized that I’d like to be here as much as possible until then.” She raised her head, eyeing Kara warily, as if worried Kara would react poorly to the confession.

(Kara’s heart thudded in her chest, practically pounding against her ribs, and for a moment she felt a little dizzy.

Lena wanted to be here as much as possible.)

“Well, the diner is always open to you,” Kara managed, giving Lena a grin.

“I’m not exactly here for the diner,” Lena laughed, the normal glint, light, brightness of her eyes reappearing. “I only ever came here again after the first time because of you.” Something must have shown on her face, because Lena’s smile widened just a bit. “You went out of your way to get me something not even on the menu. Kind for the sake of being kind.”

Kara felt guilt twist in her chest for a moment, deciding almost immediately to come clean. “It wasn’t like that,” she admitted, wrinkling her nose. “You’re, um, really pretty. Did you know that?” If she thought this would make Lena get up and storm off, if she thought it would scare her away, Kara was sorely mistaken.

It made Lena chuckle, made her place one of her hands back on the table, palm up—a clear invitation.

“I had similar thoughts about you when I kept coming back,” Lena informed her.

(So Kara took her hand.)

x

“I saw you two holding hands,” Alex said with a grin a few hours later, Kelly shaking her head in amusement behind her. “So did you finally ask her out?”

Kara scoffed. “Of course not. She’s Lena Luthor. Why would she want to date me?”

From the kitchen, Mon-El let out a loud, annoyed groan, Alex sighed tiredly, and Kelly chuckled victoriously.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” she informed her girlfriend, looking mighty pleased with herself.

Alex, however, was focused on Kara. “What are you waiting for?” she asked, frowning. “She makes those eyes at you, and you still don’t realize she likes you?”

(And well, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t that Kara didn’t realize. She suspected her feelings were returned but, well….

Lena was changing the world, and Kara was still struggling with the sting of Snapper dropping her from the internship with his newspaper.)

“It’s fine, Alex,” Kelly interjected, looking from Kara to her girlfriend and her instincts to help kicking in. “Maybe we should give Kara some space.”

x

Lena stopped coming in at inconsistently consistent times. Rather, she showed up at Kara’s shifts, and then came up with things for them to do when Kara wasn’t working.

(She was no longer sleep-deprived and forgetful. She focused on Kara’s every word, seemingly endlessly interested in what Kara had to say, and she never seemed to tire of Kara’s presence.

It was wonderful. More than wonderful. Kara was at a loss to explain it.)

These ‘dates’ as Alex called them were going incredibly well. Until one afternoon, when Kara was sitting across from Lena as she took her break, and her hands clenched into fists when a guy who clearly wasn’t from Midvale walked over to their table, and grinned down at Lena.

“Hey,” he said, making a strange movement with his head, chin jutting out. “You come here often?”

(What a terrible line. What a terrible, terrible, terrible—)

“I do, actually,” Lena responded, her eyes on Kara. “I have a crush on the waitress.”

“Right,” said the guy, though he looked confused. After a moment, when it became clear neither Kara nor Lena would say anything else (or even look at him), he made the strange movement with his head again and returned to his own table.

“Sorry,” Lena said once he was gone, eyes still focused on Kara, running her teeth over her bottom lip. “Men, right?” she said, as if they were in on a joke.

“Ah, the perils of being an attractive woman,” Kara offered, forcing her hands to unclench, trying to keep up with the light tone, not sure if she was so angry because she was jealous or because that guy felt he had the right to come up and try to talk to Lena when Kara was right there, when she was...well, a friend?

“Do you think I’m attractive?” Lena asked, her voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite name, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Everyone thinks you’re attractive,” Kara said, eyes finding that guy again and glaring.

“Right. But do you?”

(It felt like a test. And when Kara turned back to her, Lena looked so invested in the answer.

And she felt herself give in.)

“Why wouldn’t I be included in ‘everyone?’” she tried, hedging just a bit more.

“I don’t care what ‘everyone’ thinks. I care what you think.”  

Kara heaved a deep breath, trying to control her pounding heart. “Obviously, I think you’re attractive,” she admitted, thinking it was worth saying when Lena’s expression turned utterly pleased.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you’re attractive too.”

(And it did.

Make Kara feel better.)

x

They were outside the back entrance of the diner, sitting on the steps with their knees drawn up to their chests.

“Are you sure you have to leave tomorrow?” Kara asked softly, wishing she didn’t have to break the silence between them. Lena’s shoulder was pressed against hers, and despite the hot, muggy day, she didn’t quite mind it. In fact, she moved closer, wanting as much of Lena as she could get before she had to go without her.

“The NC branch of LuthorCorp needs someone to head it. Lex has asked me. He’s been acting strangely lately, I don’t feel comfortable saying no to him right now.”

“You know, it’s funny,” Kara mumbled, staring at her shoes, determinedly not thinking about Lena leaving, “I wasn’t even supposed to be here this summer. But my internship was scrapped because Snapper Carr and Lois Lane are working on some exposé to do with arms deals.” She looked over at Lena with a smile. “Is it terrible that I’m sort of glad now? I mean, I needed Snapper’s recommendation, so I’ll never get to work for Cat Grant, but I met you. It seems...worth it.”

“I have some connections,” Lena said, bumping her shoulder against Kara’s. “I could talk to Cat Grant for you.”

“My cousin offered too, but no. I want to get a job with her on my own merits.”

“You’ll get one. She’ll be crazy not to hire you.”

Kara smiled gratefully and they lapsed into silence, hands tangled between them. But as the seconds stretched into minutes, Lena seemed increasingly...agitated.

“You live in National City, right?” she asked suddenly, pulling away rather abruptly and roughly.

“Y-yeah,” Kara answered, a little confused.

“And you’ll be back in National City once your term starts? What two weeks from now?”

“Yes?”

“Then why are we acting like this is the last time we’ll see each other?” She sounded a little...well, angry. Kara blinked in confusion.

“Lena...you’re a prodigy. You have like a dozen degrees—”

“—don’t exaggerate—”

“—you’re going to be in charge of the LuthorCorp branch in National City. And I’m just a journalism student without career prospects after graduation.”

(And an alien. But she figured that conversation could wait.)

“Kara, stop,” Lena hissed, turning slightly so that she was facing Kara completely. Kara missed her warmth. “Listen, it’s really simple. I like you. I really like you. Do you like me?”

Kara was too shocked by the bluntness of the question and the forcefulness of the way Lena had expressed her own feelings to think too hard about what words came out of her mouth next. “I—yes, of course I do, how could I not?”

“Then would you do me a favor?”

“Yeah—yes, of course. Anything.”

“Would you promise that you’ll ask me out on a real date when we’re both in National City and then could you please, please, just kiss me?”

(It took a moment for Kara to comprehend the request, but when she finally did she was all too happy to comply.

And if she did it in the reverse order—well, neither of them much minded.)

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 29 Malcolm* AKA the microwave

As promised to my best friend, no dating was allowed until I got my second COVID-19 vaccine. However, I asked her for permission to download Tinder, not in order to seriously find someone, but in order to play a fun game that my friends and I titled “Tinder Roulette.” My request was granted. Of course, the deal was that I would have to delete Tinder right after the game ended.

The rules were set up so that you yourself are not punished for “being hot” or attracting people, rather you are punished for the other players’ attractiveness, and if you attract the wrong kind of people. The exact rules were as follows:

Only swipe right on guys you would want to go on a date with.

If you get a match, everyone else drinks.

Super liked on someone you swipe right on? Everyone else has to chug for 5 seconds

See someone you know, YOU drink

You get a message, other people have to drink.

If you get a DTF (down to fuck?) message (or similar hok up culture energy) you have to finish your drink.

With the rules in hand, my two girl friends and I met on Discord and added video chat as well so that we could easily share images/show who we were looking at. It was a great time, showing each other hot men as well as just straight weirdos. I came across a profile of a decent-looking guy, who had a tagline in his bio comparing himself to microwave in a depreciating joking way. I matched with him and got permission from the group to message him first. “What wattage of microwave are you?” He answered 1000 which was agreed upon that that would be the “right answer.” Upon chatting with him more, we all decided to invite this guy into our discord and see if he was weird or not.

He joins in and also had his video camera on, so we could see what he was up to. His computer was in his bedroom, where he had LED lights all around and an American Flag on the wall. He proves to definitely be an extroverted individual, and placed himself center spotlight, engaging with everyone in the discord call, while also of course trying to get to know me. I did tell him about the tinder roulette, and also told him that I was not technically available right now due to the deal with my best friend and that I would be able to date 10 days from then when I was getting my last vaccine. He was amenable to this and was happy to wait for me. He messages me personally via discord and on Tinder for asides, telling me I look pretty or asking me this and that.

Despite this, many things are notable about the group discord conversation, as by this point there are a few men hanging out in the same channel along with my two girlfriends. Malcolm* chooses to share quite a few things about himself. For example, he says that he also recently matched with a woman who was 42. Not only was she older but that she had an Only Fans account. Later he would say that she sent him a video of her having sex with someone; when he did not respond in a “timely manner,” the woman blocked him on Instagram. He also brought up that he had sex with a woman that was 55. He did not specify how long ago this was, just that it happened.

I was very confused about why this man would think these things were appropriate and a normal thing to talk about with people you just met. Once Tinder roulette was called to an end, he still stuck around. He and one of the guys starting talking about guns and I spaced out as this isn’t the kind of conversation that appeals to me. He catches on to this, as he can see me probably detaching from my body via my expressive face. He asks for my number via Tinder. I remind him about my inability to date at the moment but allow him to text me. Already, I am not super enthralled by this gentleman; he seems just bizarre and kind of a whore.

He is the kind of guy that just randomly sends selfies. Just strange. I realize as well that he isn’t truly attractive, at least to me. He is constantly asking me questions to get to know me, which is sweet and endearing if I was interested, but becomes annoying as time goes on. He makes many comments casually/intermittently in his replies, talking about public hair and too much information. Through this, I learn he gets his pubic hair waxed monthly. I didn’t even know this was even an option. I learn that it is dangerous to wax your testicles. The more you know, but I also could have completely done without knowing this information.

That day I get a different vaccination, and it makes me very tired, so I relax the rest of that day.

There’s a time he Facetimes me, I decline. I honestly am not in the mood to talk to this guy that is just… overwhelming. I simply just text him “I’m too tired to talk.” That is enough to get me out of that. He makes a comment that at this point, “if it was 9 days you would get a massage.” Blah. I don’t respond to this. I don’t talk to him the rest of that day.

Nine or so hours later, he messages me, almost desperately, wishing me good sleep and hoping I feel better, and says “sorry for texting you a lot.” This kind of energy from men is a huge turn-off; I call it the “woe is me” behavior.

I text him in the morning saying I had already fallen asleep when he last text me and said I hoped he had a good day. We have small talk but more or less don’t talk.

The next day, now Tuesday, he checks on me. My arm that the vaccine was injected into is in excruciating, burning pain down the entire arm and my hands. Work is almost unbearable. I share this with him and say I’ll likely be going to urgent care after work. He goes full “simp” mode and says that he will do anything for me and order me food if I need it. I decline but thank him. I don’t respond to more of his attempts to cheer me up. He sends me a puppy gif, A “hang in there” text, another selfie. I do not respond to any of this.

At urgent care, I’m more or less told nothing is wrong and to give it more time. My searing pain continues and so I have no patience for this overzealous individual.

Now Wednesday, five days or so after matching with him, he wishes me a good day, making this his fifth text in a row. I do not respond until the end of the day, 10 hours later. This is both because of my blatant disinterest, and I had a busy day. By this time as well, I have redownloaded Hinge, and have started chatting with my next two chapters, which are more entertaining and positive conversations.

That was that. When I didn’t talk to him again, I received a text from him two days later, and that’s when things got more uncomfortable.

After that, I blocked his number. Months later he liked me on hinge and his message was “Well I’m covid free but I know you hate me.” I did not accept his like. Gag me with a spoon please, these “woe is me” boys are emotionally exhausting.

[irwinkitten]

two steps back | poly!kayshton

notes: so this wasn’t requested, however it kind of just happened? semi inspired by @sexgodashton​‘s fic piece that looked at the catatonic state of mates and how I left the last fic, well this gets really heavy and dark. i didn’t realise how cathartic it was to write until the words were out and it was off my shoulders. please don’t feel obligated to read this because when i say it’s heavy, lau literally sent me a video of her crying. props to her and also @queer-5sos​ for cheering me on through this v heavy piece and giving me their thoughts on it. i love u guys. warnings: infant death, depression, angst, mention of dying, and them some gentleness at the end. when it say this is heavy i ain’t playing. please do not read if any of this is triggering. word count: 4.1k. (team long winded bitch™)

donate to my ko-fi here

twin’s a/b/o writing

alpha’s and omega | step forward | decisions 

-

Ashton and Kaykay had been hovering for the better part of six days now. And they were driving you to either destruction or distraction, you weren’t too sure. 

But when the first contraction hit, you were so glad that they were there for you, helping you time between each painful burst. Kaykay practically holding you up as Ashton grabbed the two bags that he’d gotten packed up. One for the babies and one for you. 

He was ready with the car, calling ahead to the hospital to inform them. And when he relayed the information that Kaykay had shouted to him, they urged him to get you to the hospital. The babies were coming and they weren’t going to wait.

The drive was a whirlwind of pain, trying to regulate your breathing with Kaykay, her hand in yours being a solid grounding so that you didn’t try to hide from the pain. The only thing that felt this bad was when you’d thought they were rejecting you. 

A grimace stole across your face at that thought, but your alpha’s didn’t take much notice of it. 

When you arrived at the hospital, Ashton didn’t hesitate to have you in his arms, Kaykay holding the bags as they rushed through. 

“We called ahead, Irwin. Our omega is having twins.” And the nurses understood almost immediately, one of the ward sisters beckoning him to follow her. And he did.

People seemed to move out of the way as the ward sister guided. Ashton could sense she was another Alpha, but he knew that with him and his mate, practically chasing after the sister, their pregnant omega lay in his arms, people scattered fast. 

The movement was jarring for you, the pain in your lower back and around your belly was reaching fever pitch and you thought you were going to pass out, a strangled cry escaping. 

“Nearly there angel, I promise.” Kaykay soothed from beside you, her hand reaching over to take yours. You couldn’t do much but let out a pained cry in response. It was both exciting and frightening. 

They were quick once you were set up in a private room, various midwives and a doctor getting you hooked up to machines and checking your notes. You noticed that one of the midwives was about to order Kaykay from the room, the look on her face screaming that your mate was unwelcome.

But you needed both of them.

“Alpha’s.” You whimpered and they were either side of your bed, cutting off the woman and providing you with the much needed comfort.

A few confused looks were passed between the nurses, but you couldn’t care less.

“Which Alpha do you wish to stay?” Your eyes opened to the same woman, her eyes lingering on Kaykay and you felt a low growl escape between your teeth at her disrespect towards your mate. 

“I need both of my mates.” You snapped back, leaning back on the pillows and gripping their hands as another contraction hit. You could hear the woman getting scolded but you couldn’t care. 

“Look at our protective omega.” Kaykay whispered, a look of awe in her eyes and you gave her a tired smile.

“Mine.” Was all you could muster the energy to mutter, but she understood, leaning forwards and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You felt the unbearable feeling twisting through your body, urging you to push. And only after a few seconds once the Doctor was ready, ignoring the grumbles from your Alpha’s, they instructed you to push.

And the pain was indescribable as you did so, a scream of frustration escaping as you sucked in a deep breath.

Ashton let his hand rest on your forehead, retrieving the damp cloth moments later and you sighed before following the instructions to push once more.

It was exhausting. Being told to push constantly, then waiting for twenty minutes and then going through the motions again. But you followed it, followed the motions until a cry of delight came from the doctor and you were spurred on by the reaction that there was some progress.

And then with the sensation of gushing followed by a surprised sound from the Doctor, the pain ceased as you tried to gather your bearings. But you felt dizzy. 

“Alpha, m’tired.” You whispered and you could see Ashton’s alarmed face, but the lethargy was hitting you heavier than you’d expected.

“I need another doctor!” Was the last thing you heard. 

You weren’t too sure how long had passed, but you could hear frantic callings of your name. Your consciousness followed those calls, breaking through the fog that clouded your mind as Ashton cried out in relief.

“Babies?” You muttered and Kaykay soothed your hair.

“They took them out of the room. No one is saying anything.” She whispered. You felt a strange sensation between your legs and whimpered.

“It’s okay sweetheart. They’re stitching you up.” Ashton whispered as he pressed a kiss to your temple and you could only hum in return. But something in you felt off.

It was another ten minutes before you were done, the doctor looking pale but semi-relieved. 

“I’ll be back with news.” The reassurance was superficial. Your chest felt wrong and you’d gripped your Alpha’s hands tightly.

“I feel off. It doesn’t feel right.” You whispered. Kaykay could only hold you as Ashton collapsed into the seat next to the bed, his hands shaking. But no one was saying a word until the doctor returned, tears in their eyes.

And you felt it strike you, the vice grip on your heart.

“There, there were complications. The babies had gotten tangled up in the umbilical cord, hence why it was so difficult because one was pulling the other out with them. But, we tried everything and it wasn’t enough.”

Your heart shattered as a wail escaped, turning into a scream of defiance and heartbreak before you leaned into Kaykay and sobbed.

Your soul felt broken as your mates cried with you, confused and hurt. Why did this happen to you? What did you do wrong? The doctor couldn’t answer your questions, you knew that much. 

But what wouldn’t leave you alone, was that you’d failed them. You’d failed your Alpha’s. 

-

They offered the three of you the chance to hold your babies. And you couldn’t say no, not for this one chance. Part of you wondered if you’d get this chance ever again. 

You couldn’t stop sobbing, seeing what could’ve been. You weren’t surprised that they were a girl and a boy. But even when they took them away once more, your chest felt like it was on fire as you cried.

Ashton and Kaykay were both lost. The excitement had turned into heartbreak and their mate could not stop sobbing.

It felt like some kind of hellish nightmare.

They kept you in overnight because of the complications. You desperately wanted to be wedged between your Alpha’s, but the hospital provided one small cot, so Kaykay slept on the cot and Ashton took the chair between the both of you.

Sleep never reached you. 

You couldn’t get it out of your head that you’d failed them. You’d failed the two people who loved and protected you. Who did everything for you. And the one thing that you could do in return you’d failed.

You weren’t too sure when the nurses came, you only knew that it was dawn by the judgement of the sun rising. But even as the sun filtered over your Alpha’s stirring them into consciousness, you couldn’t enjoy the beauty of them, your mind still whirling around those thoughts.

Would they still love you? 

That thought brought you up short as the nurse stepped in and began to check your obs. 

Words wouldn’t come to you. You wanted to apologise to your Alpha’s, to beg for forgiveness. But the words wouldn’t come as the nurse finished her rounds and Ashton took your hand in his. 

You still felt cold.

 You could hear the voices, but it was only when Ashton pulled your attention that you realised that you were being discharged.

“Things are in the process. Let's go home.” He murmured and you leaned on him as he helped you. Kaykay was a few steps ahead, but she hadn’t even looked at you that morning, the ache in your chest becoming more prominent. 

You felt lost.

Even on the drive home, Ashton had you sit up front next to him, his hand only leaving yours when needed. 

Arriving home hurt the worst.

Kaykay didn’t even wait, she had gone in without the two of you and you flinched as the door slammed shut. You kept your eyes cast down, unable to even bear looking up. 

“Do you want some rest?” Your mind couldn’t help but note there was no term of endearment. It began to race, as you simply nodded and he helped you upstairs to your shared bedroom. Kaykay was nowhere to be seen and you felt your heart sink, wondering if Ashton was going to stay.

“I’ll make sure she’s okay. Sleep for now.” His reassurance was lost on you as the door shut behind him and a tear fell. 

All your mind could focus on was that they blamed you. Kaykay couldn’t look at you and Ashton kept his distance. And it hurt so much worse than at the start of the pregnancy because this time, there was a clear reason for it.

Despite having been awake for so long, sleep never came and they didn’t come to bed. You’d heard the front door open and close. You wondered how long you’d survive till the rejection fully kicked in and left you barely clinging to life. 

They still had each other. 

You’d failed them.

You were almost zombie-like as you pulled yourself from the bed that smelled like them, that smelled like home and love and hope. Instead you went into the nursery that still had the freshly painted smell.

You’d been insistent on warm but neutral colours, and they’d caved to your pleading eyes. Two cribs were set up so that the babies would’ve been close together. 

‘They’ll never be separated now.’ Your mind whispered sadly. The stabbing pain in your chest was easy to ignore now, it was all you’d felt for the last day. 

You idly wondered if this was how parents died from heartbreak before your knees gave out and you crashed to the floor, curled up in the fetal position as you tried to block the agonising pain. 

You couldn’t even die from rejection peacefully.

-

“What’s with the attitude?” Ashton finally questioned Kaykay. He’d pulled her out of the house, the two of them going on a walk around the block repeatedly. It would give her the space to get it off her chest without you hearing but they were still close enough to check in on you.

“We did everything right. But the babies are still gone. I’m fucking angry because it feels like this is what we got for being mated alphas before they came into our lives.” The words struck him hard as he pulled her into a hug, her fingers grasping his shirt tightly.

A choked sob fell from her lips.

“It feels like we’re being punished. And our omega doesn’t deserve that, not for our choice before we met them.” She got out and he soothed her softly, the night sky seemingly to wrap around them, their emotions and pull it to the surface.

“We aren’t. Things just happen sometimes and this is one of them. There’s nothing we can do apart from be there for each other.” He whispered and she nodded against him.

They stayed like that for a few moments, a dull ache forming in their chests.

“C’mon. We need to get back to our omega. They’re gonna be hurting badly.” He whispered and they began the short journey home.

The house was quiet, too quiet to their ears and Ashton could feel the pit in his stomach twist uncomfortably. Kaykay pushed away to climb the stairs, pausing when she opened the bedroom door.

“Ash, they’re not in bed.” Her words added to the uncomfortable sensation and he made his way up the stairs, two at a time. There was no hesitation as he glanced into the empty room, rumpled sheets being a tell tale sign that you’d moved.

Panic was threatening but he held his ground as he immediately checked the bathrooms whilst Kaykay checked the nursery.

It was her distressed cry that had him almost breaking through the walls, forcing himself to stop at the sight of you on the floor, Kaykay half holding you up.

“They’re not too far gone.” Her tears were running thick and fast as Ashton stepped into the room, pulling you into his arms. 

“Grab some extra blankets. They’re cold. Send out a text to one of the girls and ask if they can get some food over, we can’t leave their side.” He whispered as he carried you back into the bedroom. 

He didn’t want to go back to the hospital unless it was necessary.

 They had you nestled in between them, their lips brushing over their marks on you as they held onto your tightly. You were cold to touch but you had a pulse and you were breathing. 

It was painful for them to see you so still, so bereft of colour and life. And with the loss of the babies already surrounding them, they knew that they’d never survive losing you as well. 

“Sweet omega, please, we can’t lose you too.” The tears were falling fast from both of them, Kaykay’s voice thick with heartbreak. “We still love you, I promise you. This isn’t your fault.” She breathed, her body unwilling to relinquish any kind of grip on you.

Ashton couldn’t find words to say as he held you tightly to his chest, watching his mate break down at the possibility of losing you as well. Part of him figured that he should’ve taken you to the hospital, but he knew that waking up in the hospital would be detrimental to you, and he wasn’t about to put you through that again.

“Please little one. If you can hear us, come home. We still want you, you’re ours to love and cherish. Please, please, please.” At that moment he didn’t care that he was an Alpha begging to his Omega mate. He was a partner, desperately begging the person he loved to stay alive, to fight for them.

It was twelve hours before you moved. You’d shifted slightly, your body tilting towards Kaykay and she cried from relief. You were still there.

Crystal and Sierra had cooked up a storm, bringing the food and coming over with it. They understood the request once they saw you nestled between your Alpha’s, no babies in sight.

“Some food to tide you through the day. We’ll come back at dinner time with some more.” Sierra whispered and Ashton could only nod in thanks as they left. 

They’d come and gone a second time before you moved again, a whimper falling from your lip as a shiver ran through your body.

“We’re here, we’ve got you little one. Come back to us, please sweetheart, come back to us.” Ashton didn’t hesitate, desperate for you to open your eyes. 

“Please angel, we need you.” It was like you were gasping for air as your eyes opened, fingers clawing at their arms as they both cried from relief.

You started sobbing, turning into Kaykay first, your arms wrapping around her and she held you as tightly as she could, her own tears falling.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry.” You babbled, gasping for air. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” Her tone was firm as you clung to her and cried. Ashton had you both pulled against him, the feeling of his body against yours giving you an ease that he still wanted you.

“I failed you, failed you both. Can’t even be a good omega.” Kaykay pulled her head back, her hand firmly grasping your chin and forcing you to look at her. She could see that you truly believed those words and Ashton felt the force of her command as she spoke.

“You’re a good omega. You did not fail us and you are not to think otherwise. It was not your fault. You’re our omega, the best omega. You're mine. Ours.” You didn’t even fight the submit, your mind clearing of the thoughts of failure but the pain still lay there.

“I’m sorry.” You got out again and she shook her head, her lips meeting yours.

“Not your fault.” 

“Never your fault, sweetheart.” Ashton chimed in and you shifted to his embrace. The pain was still there, but your chest wasn’t on fire. 

It was a start for your healing, all three of you.

-

When you next woke up, you had two attentive Alpha’s who had watched you carefully. You didn’t protest this, snuggling yourself into Kaykay, a breath of air escaping her as she shifted to wrap her arms around you tightly. 

Ashton slid from the covers, and your hand was automatically searching for him in your tired state. 

“I’ll take five minutes. I promise.” Your bleary eyes took in the clock on the side and noted the numbers, giving a huff of acceptance, making him laugh as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Love you, sweetheart.” He whispered before disappearing out of the room. 

You clung to Kaykay, desperately trying to ignore the ache in your chest and then Ashton was there, having only been three minutes instead of five. 

The ache eased immediately and Kaykay relinquished her grip on you so that you could turn your attention to Ashton, your head lay over his heart. 

You knew it was instinct, the loss of the babies still so very raw and the misunderstood rejection. Your mind was jumbled and tired, trying to understand. So you relied on instinct instead.

“I’ve got you sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He murmured softly, your body relaxing at his words as you allowed yourself to settle between them, lethargy hitting you once more and pulling you back to sleep. 

When you next woke up, you were confused and your body felt like you’d been hit by a truck. 

“We need to get you moving about a little bit. Even if it’s just around the room.” Kaykay coaxed and you were reluctant to leave the warmth that you had with your Alpha’s. But part of your mind knew she was right.

“Downstairs and back again?” You queried quietly and she gave you a smile in return.

“Sounds like a plan. We can grab a snack. You coming Ash?” You heard the underlaying order and ducked your head, feeling silly for the fact you needed both of them, but he was having none of that, his fingers sliding underneath your chin, coaxing you to look up.

When your eyes met his, you pressed your lips together, taking in a deep breath to stop the tears that you could feel building up. 

“You need us, don’t ever feel bad for needing us, sweetheart.” You let out a soft hum of agreement, his lips finding yours for a moment before pulling away. “We can see what the girls have been making for us whilst you recovered.” 

This earned a confused glance from you and he smiled as he began to guide you down stairs Kaykay following behind. It was only because of her footsteps that you didn’t immediately seek out her touch.

“When we found you, they came around with food so we didn’t have to leave your side.” Ashton explained as you reached the kitchen. Your body ached as you slowly moved, gripping Ashton’s arm for support. 

“You good, angel?” Kaykay’s voice was gentle as she touched your free arm that wasn’t grasping onto Ashton for dear life. You thought about it, taking a slow deep breath. 

“Yeah, it just hurts to move.” You finally muttered and she smiled gently in return. Her lips found your temple before she moved around the kitchen, pulling out some containers. Unable to help yourself, you sniffed the air, your stomach growling as you recognised your favourites. 

Ashton laughed as you hid your face in his shoulder in embarrassment. 

Hearing him laugh made the ache in your soul feel less like it was on fire. 

You knew pushing yourself too much would set you back, but just the thought of going upstairs without one or both of them made you anxious. 

“Sweetheart? What’s set your anxiety off?” For a moment you felt annoyed, knowing that they were so in tune with your emotions. But it was also a relief that you didn’t have to try and explain. 

“I don’t want to push it. But leaving even one of you...” You trailed off, the anxiety slipping through enough for understanding to dawn across your Alpha’s faces. 

“Nearly done angel.” Kaykay soothed, the microwave going off as if to prove her point.

Making your way back upstairs, Kaykay went ahead first, easing your anxieties as you hesitated at the door, your eyes drawn to the door of the-would have been-nursery. Kaykay had put the food down in your room and returned to your side.

The loss was so harsh in that moment, a whine ripping from you as you leaned into them both. You could feel yourself slipping, the anxiety, the pain. Your mind struggled to break from the agonising cycle.

“Forgive me, please I’m so so sorry.” You missed the heartbreaking looks shared between your Alpha’s at your words, but you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They coaxed you back into your shared bedroom and you were settled between them, your heart heavy as you cried.

“It’s never your fault, sweet omega. Things just happen sometimes and this is one of them. There’s nothing we can do apart from be there for each other.” She knew that she’d echoed the same words that Ashton had spoken days before to convince her that they were not being punished.

But seeing her omega, their omega like this, it drove the point home.

When you’d settled down, You were pressed into Ashton, Kaykay snuggled up against you. His hand was drawing patterns on your thigh and her fingers were resting on your hip, tapping out gentle patterns. 

It felt like they were holding you together, super glue after something so devastating.

“You both lost them too.” You finally whispered and Ashton pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We did. And it hurts. It hurts my soul knowing that we were so close to having them in our lives. But it didn’t happen. And we nearly lost you too. But you, sweet omega, you carried them. You were the one who went through the pain of bringing them into the world. Your pain is going to be different to ours.” His reassurance still made you feel guilty, but Kaykay was having none of that, her fingers gripping your hip gently.

“We mourn in different ways, angel. I didn’t know how to show it which was why I kept away,” you pressed back into her to reassure yourself she wasn’t going to move, “I was angry because I thought it was a punishment. But Ashton’s right. It’s something that happens and it happened to us.” You took in a shaky breath at her words, the realisation hitting you hard. 

“I thought you were angry at me.” You whispered sadly and despite being wedged together, she pressed herself impossibly closer, her scent overwhelming your senses yet the reassurance from her seemed to be much stronger.

“I could never be angry at you. Not for this. I told you when you came back to us that this was never your fault. And it will remain that way. And despite everything, you felt a part of you get shut away, the reassurance that you were blameless easing the weight from your shoulders.

Her words rang around your head for a few moments, and you allowed yourself to believe them, to believe her. She wouldn’t mislead you and you knew that Ashton wouldn’t let her. Not when it was something so serious.

“Your ours to love and protect, little omega. Let’s get you healthy and then we’ll get through this, together.” Ashton’s words held a finality to the tone, but it felt comforting that they’d be with you every step of the way, even if the three of you grieved differently. 

You had your Alpha’s and they had you.

-

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[peachyduwang]

Hihi!! I requested this on your last account I think so I hope its okay to request again hhhh, but could I request yandere Rohan with a crush on a fem who has a crush on Josuke instead? It's a mouthful but my favorite trope lmao. And I'm glad you're getting back into writing!! 💕💕

it’s perfectly fine! this was really fun to write, i loooove writing yanderes hhhh

also i assume this is a scenario request? if this isn’t what you wanted pls let me know! :)

!! Warning: yandere, abuse !!

(under cut due to length and triggering content)

Rohan’s Crush on fem!reader Who Has a Crush on Josuke Instead

Everything about her was perfect. From the way she walked, how she smiled, how she styles her hair, how soft and sweet her voice was. To Rohan, this woman was a walking masterpiece, from the moment he saw her, he finally fell in love for the first time in a long time. This feeling however was foreign to him, how could the great Rohan Kishibe have such soft and vulnerable feelings for another person? For a while, he tried to ignore these feelings and her. He constantly avoided her and pushed her away. He couldn’t let something like this get in the way of his work, a relationship was the last thing he wanted and needed. However, he couldn’t stop himself. She was constantly on his mind, no matter how hard he tried to stop this. Whenever he would daydream, he would always end up doodling her, whenever he saw her his face would feel hot and his stomach would feel strange. This frustrated him to no end, these feelings were truly suffocating to him.

 On the other hand, Y/n saw the mangaka as nothing more than an acquaintance if anything. He was friends with some of her friends such as Koichi who hung out with him often, so she thought since they might see each other a lot, they might as well become friends. However, when she tried to become friends with him, he was rude and stand-offish. He didn’t seem to have any interest in her, which at first offended her until Koichi explained how he’s like that almost with everyone else and that she shouldn’t take it personally. After that, she just avoided him and not really paying any attention to him, only interacting with him when needed; if he doesn’t like her, then oh well. She wasn’t going to be friends with someone who is naturally an asshole like him.

 But unbeknownst to her, Rohan Kishibe has completely fallen in love with her. He was obsessed with her, she constantly haunting his thoughts. The more he avoided her, the more he wanted her. He had to have her, he wanted to spend his entire life with her, he wanted to wake up every morning to her soft delicate face, he wanted to feel her soft skin and hair. Even though they weren’t necessarily friends, he cherished every moment he was around her and the small talk conversations they shared.

 The day finally came where he would try to form a friendship with her, maybe this will make him feel better about everything, plus he just had to be close to her. Rohan left the house, dressing a bit nicer than usual (as if he already didn’t dress nice all the time) to make a good impression when she saw him. Y/n worked at the local café downtown and Rohan was a regular even before she worked there, this has allowed him to observe her and admire her beauty from afar as she worked. Whenever she was the one that served him, his insides felt as if he was on a rollercoaster. He would act completely casual and still a bit stand-offish despite the fact that he clearly looked nervous. Y/n didn’t think much of his strange reactions, instead she just thought he hasn’t slept and consumed way too much caffeine since he is constantly working 24/7.

 Y/n was currently on her usual lunch break, every day she would go on break once the clock hit noon according to his observations. He saw her in the window eating a pastry while reading a book. Oh how beautiful she looked, her eyes lit up in the sunlight causing them to look much brighter than they already were, and the way she was lost in her book was endearing. Rohan took a deep breath before entering the café, the smell of pastries and fresh coffee brewing filled his nostrils as he walked in. He ordered a regular black coffee and started to walk over to the table Y/n was sitting at, until he saw that familiar young adult with the pompadour hair. Just before Rohan walked on over, Josuke walked into the café, greeting Y/n with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

 Rage all the sudden filled Rohan, almost causing him to squeeze his coffee cup and spill the hot coffee everywhere. How could she fall in love with Josuke instead of him, the great Rohan Kishibe? What did she see in that asshole? He wanted to go over and just destroy him, but he couldn’t confront them because how will Y/n see him? He didn’t want her to see him as a bad guy, despite how much of an asshole he already was to her. He just wanted to fix this, he wanted Y/n all to himself and nobody else.

 While walking back home, many thoughts flooded his mind. Part of his thoughts was rage and hatred towards Josuke, but his other thoughts were full of regret. Maybe if he didn’t push her away and be a prick towards her, he would be in Josukes place right now. 

 All the sudden, Rohan got an impulsive thought. What if he used Heavens Door on Y/n? This thought wasn’t new, he thought about this often actually and it felt morally wrong at first; But now, since the girl of his dreams is with Josuke, a person he despised immensely, and not with him, he felt he had no other choice. Rohan chuckled and smiled to himself, thinking about how she could finally be his. He walked home with a subtle dark smile on his face while thinking about how he was going to go about this twisted plan. 

–

Y/n exhaustingly closed the cafe door behind her, she sighed with relief as she finally got to go home after working a double shift. She looked at her watch to check the time, it was around 10:30 p.m. It wasn’t too late out, but it was late enough where she had to be careful and alert as she walked home. Her house wasn’t too far away, maybe a couple blocks away from the cafe, so she should be okay, right? 

She watched her surroundings as she walked home to make sure there weren’t any creeps following her. Morioh was known to be a town of crimes, despite how small it was. It wasn’t the first time she walked home at night by herself, each time she did she made it home safely. The streets were silent, only to be accompanied by the occasional car driving by and the street lights. 

She finally made it to her house, but before she could make it up to the door, she saw a figure on the porch. She felt scared at first until she realized it was Rohan. What could he be doing here? 

“Oh hey Rohan, what’s up? What are you doing here so late?” she asked in a confused yet concerned tone as she walked up to the porch. 

“Please forgive me, Y/n.” 

“Wha-”

“Heaven’s door!”

Y/n fell unconscious all the sudden. Before she could fall and hit the ground, Rohan caught her. He observed her limp body and how beautiful she looked even unconscious. Luckily nobody was out here, so nobody could witness what was happening, everything went according to plan. 

He flipped through her pages, learning every small and big thing about her. How interesting she and her life was, not only was she perfect inspiration for his work, she was perfect for him. She already fascinated him before he truly got to give her a good read, now he feels even more so. After reading her thoroughly, he took out his pen and began writing in commands. 

I only love Rohan Kishibe and I will be his forever. 

–

Y/n woke up from a deep sleep, she noticed how she was in a big comfy bed that wasn’t hers. She got up and looked around the room, she had no idea where she was. She felt panicked, where the hell was she? Did she get kidnapped or?

All of the sudden the door opened revealing Rohan holding a cup of coffee for her. All the panic disappeared as soon as he entered the room. She felt warm, happy, and safe. Rohan had a warm smile on his face as he handed the hot cup of coffee to Y/n and sat down next to her. What was this feeling? She could of swore she felt nothing for Rohan, she wasn’t even attracted to him. But now, it felt like she knew Rohan forever, she 

“Sleep well, darling? You were out cold last night, you seemed quite exhausted from work,” Rohan said has his hand graced her face.

She couldn’t remember last night what so ever except for walking back from a hard day at work, she must of passed out from tiredness and Rohan took her in.

She didn’t question it, she felt safe and everything felt okay. She smiled and took Rohan’s hand and kissed it. 

This felt right. 

[readingwritingcrying]

I am finally here with Good Omens prompts!! Okay, so let me know if you don't like this and I can try again, but I D E S I R E more crowley sickfic content :) maybe he has a fever and doesn't even realize because mortal stuff is so foreign to him that he can't figure out why his head hurts and he's dizzy until Aziraphale points it out? :)

HELL YEAH I CAN!! I need more Crowley sickfic in this fandom so hear is this fic! I had an idea in mind for this prompt and somehow, my keyboard decided to take a different one and run with it but I hope you like it!

When Crowley showed up late, it was fashionable, if a bit unusual for a lunch date with his – with the angel. A lunch appointment. A casual meet-up, maybe.

They had made reservations at the Ritz for 8:00 sharp, and according to Crowley’s mobile, it was 8:20 when he came sauntering in to sit across from Aziraphale.

The angel had ordered an appetizer and was picking at it nervously before his eyes settled on Crowley, and in an instant, the tension left him. “Oh, there you are, dear, I was about to get worried!”Crowley rolls his eyes, which was utterly pointless with his dark shades covering the demonic things, but Crowley knew the message got across just the same. Aziraphale seems to understand him some way or another these days.“Mn, yeah, no reason to be worried,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Lost track of a bit of a nap, that’s all.” Which was not necessarily true, but also was not a lie.Crowley, of course, being a demon could lie. In fact, he might say he could do it rather well considering that he had kept hell off his tail for, oh, ‘round six thousand years until the Armageddon’t became a thing. But while he could lie well enough to the uninterested party-and he’ll certainly did not care about him on any deeply personal level-he couldn’t bring himself to lie to the angel.So yes, he had indeed overslept a bit in what could be considered a nap. The only bit that was anything of note was that he didn’t actually mean to take a nap in the first place. He had been stalking through his flat, inspecting his plants when he had felt a bone-deep tired start to set in.He sat only for a second on a bench more concrete than comfort, and suddenly he had slept a little over a day. Crowley just wanted to sleep at least a thousand more, he felt so exhausted.

But leaving that out wasn’t really lying after all.

Aziraphale sighed. “I never did understand the appeal but, well,” he gestured to the food in front of him, “I suppose to each their own, my dear. I’m just glad you decided to wake up this century!”

Crowley could tell the angel was trying to settle any weird feelings with the jest, but somehow his mind was just a little… drifty. But he was pretty certain a smirk would do the trick, as it usually did when he wasn’t sure how to respond anyway.

Thank someone for sunglasses.

It did indeed do the trick, and Aziraphale smiled, easily settling down easily into the pattern they had managed for so long. He began with some small talk about his shop and the customers he had scared off, and even explained the newest novel he had found himself immersed in.

On the other hand, Crowley felt completely lost in what he was supposed to be doing. It was all he could take to try and make the right noises, or look like he was paying attention to the angel (which was a skill he had mastered, letting him talk about books for ages that Crowley couldn’t care less about if it weren’t important to Aziraphale).

He didn’t even notice the waiter ready to take their order until Aziraphale cleared his throat pointedly, murmuring a soft, “Crowley, dear?”

“Oh, just some wine, really. Whatever you’d recommend,” Crowley grumbles, waving off the waiter. He was hoping that since he usually didn’t eat much anyways, it didn’t seem off, but the truth was the thought of even trying anything made his stomach turn. It was confusing to say the least.

Something was wrong, Crowley thought, and the worried looks Aziraphale was constantly giving him when the angel thought he wasn’t looking only confirmed as much. The dinner seemed to pass by in somewhat of a fog. He felt absolutely miserable, but not in any way he was used to. He wasn’t upset but he still felt like absolute shit. It was all he could do to keep himself awake and mostly alert, giving the occasional one word answer whenever Aziraphale trailed off in a way he was clearly meant to respond to.

It was when a dull ache set in behind his eyes that things truly got out of hand. Even his own voice started to feel like it was drilling into his head, and the shining lights of the restaurant made him wish to by somewhere, anywhere else. Like his bed, or Aziraphale’s couch.

It was a relief when Aziraphale was finished. He was delighted with the meal as always, but there was something of a worried tone in his voice as he praised the food. Even then, he didn’t say anything about it. For all of Crowley’s going too fast, Aziraphale knew by now that something a little too caring or personal before the demon was ready, and he would be scared off.

Sometimes he was annoyed at the angel’s caution around him, like he were a not-quite-tamed animal. Other times, Crowley was grateful for it. Right now, Crowley couldn’t decide, because his brain felt like it was being baked and pounded into mush at the same time.

“Shall we go then?” Aziraphale asks, straightening out his jacket.

“I was gonna pay the bill, angel,” Crowley grumbles. Even if he was being rather awful company - not that he was the best anyways, Aziraphale really deserved better for h- well, for somewhere’s sake – he could at least give him that much.

Aziraphale shook his head, eyes crinkling in the way they did when he found something particularly peculiar, or even perhaps silly. “Oh, really Crowley,” he huffed. It was much more endearing than exasperated. “I believe I’ll manage this one time. But maybe you could, well, give me a lift?”

If it wouldn’t hurt his head so much, Crowley would have laughed. Instead, he smiled, just a little bit. Because the angel was still so shy, and never mind how he felt, he wasn’t about to say no when Aziraphale so rarely outright asked him something like that. “’Course I will,” Crowley said, willing away the strange urge to shiver.

He was rewarded with the sight of Aziraphale smiling brightly at him as he stood up. Crowley stood to join him.

And oh, fuck.

The restaurant was suddenly spinning. Crowley shook, feeling chilled and far, far weaker than he should. His vision was being encroached by darkness, and he stumbled weakly back, catching himself on the table with a clamber.

Nosey eyes were quickly miracled away and Aziraphale was by his side. “Crowley? Crowley, what is it, are you hurt?”

“Angel, I don’t know what’s happening, I feel awful, I’m scared,” Crowley says. Except he didn’t, and instead, all that came out was “Nnghh.”

Another wave of vertigo overcame him and when he blinked away his spotty vision, they were in the bookshop, Aziraphale immediately beginning to pace with nervousness that practically rolled off him.

Crowley sits himself down on the couch – if one could call nearly falling onto it without any sense of gracefulness sitting – and puts his hand to his head. It was hot. His body, however, felt freezing, and he curled up back into the fabric, trying to conserve his warmth as he shivers.

Aziraphale approaches him, still fidgeting anxiously. “Please tell me what’s wrong, dear. You’re frightening me,” he asks softly.

“Angel, I-“ Crowley doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s happening, and what if he’s going to discorporate? Or worse? It would be more than inconvenient, what with hell wanting his blood and all, there was no way he’d make a quick return topside. That is, if he ever managed it. He didn’t want to leave his angel. Not when they finally had a real chance.

Before he realized he was even doing it, Aziraphale had taken off his glasses, setting them down gently, and had begun to wipe away his tears. Crowley’s eyes were blown completely yellow, without a white bit to be seen; a sure sign of his distress. Crowley leaned into his hand, a somewhat strangled whimper escaping his throat. Aziraphale shushed him softly, and Crowley managed to find his voice.

“I don’t know why, Aziraphale.” The tearful tremble was still thick in his speech, although later he would never admit to being so emotional.

The angel looks troubled by this. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling then?” Crowley nods slowly.

“I’m… tired. Everything hurts, angel, can’t think straight… my head hurts. And it’s bloody freezing in here,” he complained, his body shuddering to prove his point.

Aziraphale’s face pinched further. “It’s warm here, my dear… you’re, well, rather feverish, it seems.” Crowley stares at him blankly. It was most certainly not warm although his forehead was delightfully cooled by the angel’s hands still resting on his face. When it was clear that he wasn’t getting the point, Aziraphale spoke again. “Crowley, I believe you might be sick,” he states carefully.  

He blinks. “Demons don’t get sick, angel,” Crowley says.

Maybe, just maybe, Aziraphale was onto something. He certainly felt ill, after all. But it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, getting sick was something… human. And Crowley could tell, even now, weak and pitiful as he felt, he was still very much a demon.

“Perhaps, but we’ve spent all this time around them, well… it could be possible, couldn’t it?” Aziraphale ponders. “Unless you have a better idea?” His eyebrow is raised in a way that looks innocent, but holds a challenge to it, almost daring Crowley to disagree.

He just shrugs. “Guess so.” He hadn’t been around anything holy enough to worry and if this was what being sick was like then… well, that was that. Crowley couldn’t bring himself to do any more than just accept it.

Pushing himself up with his arms off of the couch, he takes a clumsy step forward, feeling horribly dizzy again. He stumbles, but instead of falling, he’s steadied by a soft pair of hands. “Dear, what are you doing?” Aziraphale asks. “You’re in no state to be walking around like that.”

“Gotta get home, ‘Zzzira,” Crowley explains. He’s leaning on Aziraphale quite heavily, letting his eyes close to stop the room from spinning. His stomach had started to spin with it. “Just need a bit of ressst,” he hisses, forgetting to stop the odd way he speaks, although he hardly notices it.

“Oh, Crowley,” murmurs Aziraphale, his voice unbearably tender. “I can just make you a bed here. I would be far too worried to let you go off alone when you can hardly walk.”

Crowley tries to argue his case, but all that comes out is stammers, and so when the angel sweeps him off his feet (literally, figuratively he had managed that 6,000 or so years before) he doesn’t struggle. Instead, he moans at the disorienting feeling, pressing his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder. He holds Crowley tighter.

Crowley was too light, too easy for the angel to carry.

Aziraphale sets him down on the bed – sheets, predictably in a familiar tartan pattern. Immediately, Crowley pulls the blankets around him, grateful to the warmth they provide. His shivering subsides from full body shudders to just a slight bit of shakiness. Aziraphale leaves but is back just as quickly with a cool glass of water and a few white pills.

“Take these,” he instructs, guiding Crowley into a sitting position. When did it get so hard to do that? His confusion must have shown on his face. “Your fever is rising quite a bit dear, you might not be feeling better any time soon, but this should help,” explains Aziraphale.

Crowley considers this and takes the pills with the water before laying back. His eyes feel heavy.

Someone is tucking him in, and it must be Aziraphale, and his hair is being stroked. Crowley mummers softly, “Please stay,” as he begins to drift off.

He thinks he hears a response of “Of course, my love,” from his angel, but maybe that’s just the fever talking

[genesisarclite]

Wanderlust

This started as a joke and ended up as 5,400 words of fluffy nonsense. In which Aria is trying to de-stress at the range, Adam briefly joins her, she can’t stop staring, and Adam becomes flustered. Like, badly flustered.

This is also your fault, @trulycertain. Again.

It was eighteen hundred hours, or somewhere around there, and Aria was alone in the shooting range. There were more people on the day shift than the night shift in Prague’s TF29 office, so most of them were working on leaving. The doors kept clunking open and closed, barely audible through the reinforced plate glass at her back. It was a repetitive, obnoxious sound that grated on her nerves if she paid too much attention.

In the week following the return from London, Director Miller was still on sick leave – much to his chagrin – and all of those involved couldn’t find as much to do as they were used to. The night shift now consisted of a few staff who couldn’t do much more than look over reports and check on random leads. Everyone had been uneasy at first, but after two days of it, the tension was beginning to dissipate.

Aria had come here to help relieve some of that tension by reminding herself that her artificial arm could still grip a combat rifle like her natural one, that she could still level a target, that she could squeeze off shots from a hand far steadier than her old one and hit her target almost every time. For her, and MacReady’s team altogether, the London op had been an exercise in frustration, without much happening. Instead, Adam had been the one to get himself in trouble and nearly killed, along with Miller. He had been the one to stop all this.

She rested the rifle on its side on the counter in front of her, leaving her hands on it and looking at the floor.

She was on MacReady’s team now, what she had been pushing for since day one, and now, she was Adam’s teammate, yet she barely saw him anymore. Even in the field, he got sent off on his own. Upstairs, when he was at his desk, he paid no one else any mind and disappeared at a moment’s notice.

Chewing the inside of her lip, she chastised herself. She liked him, as a friend and teammate, and not having been able to see him much really frustrated her.

With some effort, she managed to grab all her giddy thoughts and stuff them in a box before they could get away from her. The only reason she wanted to see him was because he was nicer than his appearance let on, and beyond that, because she needed to know her teammates. The others weren't so nice, and MacReady was... well, Mac, so it made sense to start with the nicest person, didn’t it? And besides, didn’t she already kind of know him?

Her mind spilled out of the box again, and she felt far too exhausted to fix it. Right now, she didn’t have good control over her thoughts, and she feared that if she tried to talk, nothing would go right. As it was, only the bit of caffeine she’d had in the form of an energy drink around ten kept her awake, but it was wearing off, leaving her body spent and mind tangled in knots of confusion.

Grunting, she picked up the rifle, then tried an experimental squeeze of the trigger while aiming at a target at the far end of the range. The shot went slightly wild and pinged the rim.

As she sighed and checked the remaining rounds, she heard the door to the range slide open, followed by the sound of footsteps. She looked up and felt her heart leap into her throat. Oh, of course it was the one person she actually wanted to see, catching her off guard when she was tired and wouldn’t be able to think straight. Over the past six months, she could count on two hands the number of times he’d actually stopped to talk to her, but didn’t have enough fingers and toes for the number of times she had slyly watched him go by.

“Oh, hey, Adam,” she said, and smiled. “What brings you here?”

Without the coat, it was obvious how long, lean, and strong his body was, the form-fitting shirt and breastplate seeming to just emphasize every line and curve in ways that encouraged her eyes to wander. The soft, blue-white evening lighting of the range shone on the carbon-black shell of his augs, casting a long, soft shadow in several points around him. Knowing her eyes were visible to him, she made a valiant effort to keep them on his face.

“Saw you here. Figured maybe you could use a partner.” The corner of his lips quirked in the semblance of a smile. “Mind if I join in?”

“Oh... sure! Of course you can.” She waved at an empty spot. “Be my guest.” As he moved to do so and his face turned away, her eyes immediately dropped, following the long lines of his body all the way down and back up. What was he doing here? Was he doing it on purpose? How was she supposed to–

She took a quick breath. Calm down.

“You okay, Aria?”

The way he pronounced her name was endearing. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”

Above one of the gold-tinted shields, a shapely dark eyebrow raised enough to make her look away, feeling suddenly shy. Quite unlike her, really – even when she had met him, she’d refused to be shy, instead boldly looking him in the eye and accepting his handshake with only a little stumbling over her words. She had always found him to be a bit of a looker, really, but this was the first time he’d hung around long enough for her to realize how much so.

As he aimed a Zenith pistol at the far end of the range and took a few moments to settle into a marksman’s stance, she let her gaze wander from the gleaming metal at his shoulder down to the curve of his hand. It was beautiful work, all tarnished gold joints and shining metal, and despite the faint pitting and scarring visible beneath the lights, she found the curves and lines uncannily handsome. The thickness was wrong, the structure of his wrist less human than her cybernetic arm, but it was still so... elegant. Graceful.

He squeezed the trigger. The silencer made a soft pop as the bullet struck the target. It didn’t hit in the middle, instead landing off to the side, eliciting a slight frown from him.

“You have the advantage of two cybernetic arms,” she said with a grin, “and you missed?”

“That was... me warming up,” he muttered.

She smirked when he glanced at her and gave a slight shake of the head, then watched as he again aimed and squeezed the trigger. This time, the bullet hit home, very close to the bullseye.

The lights shifted across the shell when he lowered his arms before separating his hands, letting the pistol hang at his side near his hip. The curve of his spine drew her eye again, noting the density of the shirt fabric and the way it left very little of his torso to her imagination. Beneath his waist, the dark, canvas pants continued to be just as form-fitting, laced with zippers and open pockets and held up by a utility belt hung with small pouches. It was good for stealth work, being that it wouldn’t creak or rustle, while the colors were good for the shadows and could blur his outline. The shininess probably didn’t help, but that could be fixed by overlaying them with something temporarily. Maybe the grease used on the face, or spraying them down with some sort of matte finish that could buff off.

Only then did she realize he was looking steadily at her, and she snapped her gaze back up. “Sorry?”

A pause, then, “Are you sure you’re okay, Aria?”

She blinked, feeling the early tinges of an exhaustion headache. Honestly, she shouldn’t be here, but crawling onto her bed at home with a book for a bit before going to sleep. All her limbs felt too heavy, and she didn’t feel totally steady on her feet. If she went much longer, her brain would more or less stop running in “socially acceptable” mode and slip into “whatever come to mind first” mode.

At the same time, Adam was here, for the first time in far too long. Alone. With her. Within an arm’s length, and dressed in tight, flattering clothes she couldn’t complain about. She had him all to herself and, exhaustion or no, she was going to take advantage of that, and she would just have to sleep later.

“Completely fine,” she assured him. “Energy drink’s just wearing off a bit. I’m good.”

It was hard to tell how he really felt with those shields up, so she waited until he turned away before going back to staring at his arm. During his tenure here, she’d overheard a number of people say his augs were frightening or too inhuman, and they of course were all nervous because he was a militarized Aug, allowed to wander freely in their branch, never smiling or hanging around very long, talking little, sent constantly on missions, seen rarely.

The augs didn’t frighten her, though. They were sleek, strange, and beautiful in a way she had trouble pinpointing. The twitch of artificial muscle, the glint of light off the shell–

“Aria, hey, you okay?”

“Huh?” she said without thinking, and looked back at his face. “What?”

Another pause, then, “I said, how long you been here tonight? Did you come here for a reason, or just because?”

“Just because,” she said with a shrug. “Got to get rid of a little stress and all.”

“Yeah, okay.” He tipped his head. “Should I go?”

The possibility made her stomach drop through the floor. “No! No, no, you’re fine, you’re completely fine, not bothering me at all, don’t worry, okay? It’s fine.” Her cheeks warmed, but she kept her eyes on the shields and a friendly smile on her lips, refusing to let her eyes wander again. Good job, girl. Filter, last a little longer.

The pause lasted so long this time, and he stood so very still, that she momentarily wondered if she had somehow wandered into a pocket of frozen time. “I... okay.” With visible hesitation, he looked away, glanced at her, then refocused on the target and leveled the pistol again.

Her eyes trailed back down to his shoulder, then up to his lips. They were very nice, she thought, fullish and the color of a pale rose, standing out against the well-groomed dark hair of his beard and working while he aimed. Without his eyes to look at, she had to study the rest of his face, and she found so many small details in her wanderings – the hard muscle below the collar of the shirt, the twitch of natural and unnatural tendons in his neck, the way his brow wrinkled when his eyebrows drew together in slight, rapid twitches.

Pop came the silencer, followed by three more in quick succession. When the pistol fired, his arms suppressed the kickback to make it the barest of twitches, allowing him to draw a bead again with ease. Each shot landed in the center of the target, or very close to it, and a faint smile played across his lips.

His beard was so thick that she couldn’t see the pale skin beneath, and she wondered if the hair was black or just a very dark brown, so she looked up at where his hair stood up against the lights. They shone a dark golden-brown through the well-manicured spikes that flowed back from his forehead and down across his skull, tapering at the back of the neck in a textured flair that emphasized the pleasant line that continued down to his shoulders.

“Aria, what do you keep looking at?”

The suddenness of his voice in the quiet made her flinch; eyes widening, she looked at him, mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of a response. The microseconds ticked by slow as hours as his head whipped around to face her, one (very fine and very shapely) eyebrow raised inquisitively.

He hadn’t even spoken that loudly, but he really didn’t have to.

“There’s– I’m just look– I’m staring at the– thousand-yard stare, Adam, sorry, I blanked out a little.” She grinned.

He shifted his weight, looked slightly away from her, then back. Again, his mouth worked, briefly distracting her as she fought the instinct to look again. “You sound kind of tired. Sure you don’t wanna cut this short and head–”

“No, Adam, really, I’m fine. No issues here. Please, continue.”

“Are you even paying attention?”

Oh, she was paying plenty of attention. “Yeah, ‘course I am. It’s fine, go on.”

“You haven’t said much of anything since I got here, and you keep spacing out. Look, if you can’t focus, maybe you should just go home before you, you know, hurt yourself or... or something.” The pistol landed on the counter; he leaned on it with one hand and rested the other on the opposite hip, resulting in a stance that she found suddenly very distracting.

“N... no, don’t worry, I’m perfectly...” Breathe. “...fine.”

His lips parted again, and coupled with the sharp intake of breath, she knew he was about to start in on her again. Bracing herself, she folded her arms and looked defiantly back at him. No way was she cutting this short. Even if all she did was stand here and be a useless prop that stared blankly at her illegally attractive teammate, no way was she going to lose this opportunity. Just taking him in was enough to melt more stress away.

But then, his mouth closed, and he seemed to be staring at her, lips twitching again. On the counter, his fingers tapped out a rhythm, while on the other, they squeezed his hip. Though she kept her eyes on his face, her focus drifted to her peripheral vision. The line from shoulder to hip made her bite the inside of her lip. Wow. She’d already been aware of how attractive he really was, but here, here, all alone... it wasn’t fair.

“...I’ll take your... word for it, then,” he muttered, and turned away.

She blinked in surprise as his skin darkened slightly, though still very pale against the inky lines of his hair, then felt both eyebrows shoot up when he briefly fumbled his grip on the pistol and barely caught it before it fell into the range itself, the edge glancing off a fingertip before he hurriedly wrapped his fingers around it. The whole thing took maybe the space of two heartbeats, but it might as well have been drenched in neon.

Grab the rifle and start hitting that target. Pretend you’re here actually doing something. Stop staring. It’s rude. Don’t you think he gets stared at enough? He probably thinks you think he’s a freak. He’s probably blushing out of shame, so stop that staring and focus on doing something else, you useless piece of–

Another thought sauntered up to her rational one, grinned, and kicked it out of the way. Now free for a moment, it turned to her, clasped its hands behind its back, and whispered loudly, isn’t he beautiful?

The shot crashed into the wall.

Adam cleared his throat and fired four times. All four didn’t go near the target; she noticed a tremor in his arms that hadn’t been there a moment ago, so faint that she wouldn’t have noticed if...

She sighed. If she hadn’t been gawking.

“Huh,” he muttered, and pulled the now-empty clip. The new one didn’t go in right the first time, cracking against the pistol really loudly in the silence; he froze, then tried again, bumping the clip a second time before it finally slid in, and he gave it a slap to lock it in place. He racked the pistol, aimed, and fired again, six times now, four of them hitting the target, one hitting the outer edge, and another striking the wall.

“Looks like those stabilizing augs can get tired too, huh?” She spoke cheerfully, but inside, she knew she’d somehow upset him, and he wasn’t able to focus anymore because of it. What if he was angry? Maybe he was. Maybe he was just too polite to kick her out, what with this being her old territory and all.

“Yeah, that’s, uh, probably what happened. Sounds about right.” He glanced at her, then back at the targets. More shots, and this time, all but one hit the mark dead on.

She steadied her grip on the rifle and began firing in three-round bursts, mostly hitting the center of the target. When the clip was spent, she ejected it and slapped in a new one, then continued on, the silencer affixed to the barrel turning each shot into a dull popping sound. The bullets spattered the target with soft tinks, and through each strike, she took out her frustration at what she had said and done. Of course she’d managed to bungle this already. First time having any time alone with him, and she had already hurt him and embarrassed herself.

The spent clip ended up tossed to the floor; as she locked in a new one, she looked over at him as he smoothly slid the clip of his pistol out and, in a single graceful movement, put a new one in.

Maybe it was time to leave, but as she studied him, she again found it difficult to walk away. After all, she did need to get used to his presence, and besides, he was a work of living art, all interesting angles and curves. He was a person, her teammate, and he was also so... so striking, so elegant, so graceful, each move so calculated and expression so controlled. She couldn’t tell how upset she’d made him. She could only guess.

He stopped firing, stood in place for a moment, and lowered his arms. Lips twitching, he looked at her. “Aria, hey, eyes up here. Or... or is there something... that’s not... supposed to be there?”

She squeaked, “No?”

Again, his lips twitched, and he looked away, then back at her. He turned his body toward her, lowering the pistol to the counter again, and looked right at her, the blank, gold-tinted shields giving no hint to his real thoughts. Mortified, she couldn’t hold what she assumed was his gaze and looked down, shyly following the long, sturdy lines of his legs to the floor as she did. Oh, this wasn’t fair at all.

“Can I...” Another pause, very short. “Can– can I get that rifle?”

A little surprised by the faint stutter – or maybe it wasn’t a stutter; maybe he was just suppressing his anger – she looked at him, then nodded and picked up the rifle, offering it to him stock-first. His hand brushed hers when he reached for it; she felt her skin flush hot and looked down again. A moment later, he took the rifle, then turned away from her, giving her space to look up at him again.

“Um...” She shifted anxiously. “...did I say something wrong?”

Both eyebrows went up when he looked at her. “Aria, what makes you think you did?”

“No reason,” was her hasty response, but she looked away as she spoke. On the one hand, she worried she might have upset him by staring, probably reminding him of the citizens, cops, and Aug fetishists giving him sidelong looks as he did something as normal as walk down the street. On the other hand, he was impossibly beautiful, had been from the moment she’d met him, and reconciling that attraction with his status as a teammate was difficult.

“Well, you didn’t,” he said firmly. “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good,” she told him, injecting a note of cheer into her voice. “Well, let me get back to resolving the tension.”

Adam looked at her and lifted one eyebrow.

She blinked. “With the... guns, and the targets, Adam, don’t look at me like that.”

Now the other eyebrow went up. “I meant– what else could I have meant? You already told me you were–”

“Sorry, sorry, of course you didn’t mean–” Stupid. Idiot. Moron. “Never mind. I’m going to shoot things, and you’re going to shoot things, and everything’s going to be fine, right?”

“I didn’t mean anything else by it,” he added quickly. “So I didn’t... I wasn’t trying–”

“It’s okay, Adam, really, please stop talking.” Pause. “I mean... don’t stop talking, I’m fine with you talking. Just don’t go talking about that. But it’s fine if you want to talk, I like when you talk to me.” Another pause. “You know, when... you want to. Talk to me. Don’t feel like you have to– you know what, you don’t have to talk. I don’t mind if you talk, but if you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to talk. So don’t feel... you have... to?”

She watched his lower lip move in the sort of thoughtful fashion that made her think he was... biting it? “I’ve done most of the talking tonight. Sure there’s not something on your mind? If you you came here to blow off steam, and I’m... am I intruding?”

“No, no, I don’t mind. I like having you around!”

In the silence that followed, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her ears. It was bad enough that everyone whispered around her that “did you see the way she looks at him” or “someone’s got a crush” or “she always has an excuse to talk to him”. What if that got back to him? Would they still be friends, or whatever they were? What if he decided she was an Aug fetishist and gave her a wide berth? Nothing was going to come of it, of course. She respected him far too much, and besides–

He continued gazing at her, and she focused on breathing. Besides, he was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen, and he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. She was just a friendly ear and occasional smile, certainly not worthy of such a skilled individual who was expected to save the world every day. It would be like a superhero being drawn to the girl who chatted him up at the supermarket. Things like that just didn’t happen.

She had, once or twice, let a shameful thought cross her mind – the fine fabric of his coat under her fingers, sitting quietly with him in his apartment, the brush of his lips against hers – but she knew they were all fantasies. He would never want her like that. He was just too polite to tell her–

“Well, good,” he said, in a quieter voice and a barely-there sort of hesitation that made her search those blank shades again, “because I like having you around, too. So, I guess we’re even.”

Her heart clambered up into her throat and tried to strangle her, making what she wanted to say risk coming out in a most undignified manner. After swallowing against that knot (and quickly kicking down the bubble of insane hope that rose into her chest), she managed to smile. “Okay. Back to shooting things.”

Adam gave her a quick half-smile that immediately crushed any hope she had of walking away before turning back to the range, shouldering the rifle, and firing off several burst shots. She kept staring at him, trying desperately to gather all her thoughts and again stomping on the hope welling up inside her.

He likes having you around because you’re a good teammate, the rational side of her brain shouted.

The other side whispered, But what if he likes you?

She picked up the Zenith pistol from under his elbow, racked it, and changed it to full-auto before aiming. As her mind went back over what was said, a blanket of anxiety settled over her. He doesn’t like me, not like that. If this went on much longer, the tension radiating off her body would be palpable to him, and wouldn’t be able to look at him for the rest of the week. As it was, he probably already thought she was crazy.

Glancing at him again, she tried to think of what to say.... only to find him looking back at her. For an instant, they just stared at each other, then he looked away again, and she fiddled with the pistol.

Making a fool out of herself: already done.

It was too quiet, and the rattling of the weapons felt like nails on a chalkboard. If she didn’t talk about something, it was going to be too much. She would go to bed, then lay there for hours, going over all of this in her head, over and over, trying desperately to figure out what she could've done better and could do in the future. Bad enough everyone already thought she was in love with him, because she wasn’t. He was just very, very pretty, and so far out of her league that she didn’t know why she even bothered trying to find anything in common with him.

Suddenly, he sighed, and she heard a faint snick before he straightened. In her peripheral vision, she saw him lower the rifle to the counter, but keep his hand on it. “This about London?”

Lowering the pistol, she looked at him, only to find the shields gone and dark, deep-set eyes studying her from under those well-arched eyebrows. The change was so startling that she forgot to speak at all, staring at eyes she’d never seen before and quickly drifting away from her surroundings. They were incredibly dark, with a thin ring of gold around the pupil, strange, but beautiful, and exposed, they completely changed his face.

All the harshness vanished, the hard angles softened, and he looked so human.

When he tilted his head, upsetting her gaze, she felt herself blush again. “Wha– London? Um, no, it’s not– well, kind of, I guess. It’s kind of about London. It’s just frustrating that I finally got on CT, and then the first op I go on, nothing happens. You had all the fun.” Pause. “Not ‘fun’, I guess. You know what I mean.”

“You’ll get more chances,” he told her. “That being said, I get where you’re coming from. All those months of prodding, and the first op’s kind of a letdown. I get that.”

She nodded, hesitated, and gestured at her eyes with one hand. “Why do you hide these?”

Only when he blinked did she truly notice the thick rim of inky black lashes that surrounded those eyes. “Hide... what, hide my eyes? It’s just to protect them, you know. Delicate equipment.”

“But, even off-duty, like when you’re here?”

He opened and closed his mouth before just blinking at her again, and that steady gaze from those intense eyes made her feel oddly vulnerable. There was no hint of anger there that she could see, only a sort of softness around his eyes she would never have expected to find there. Why take the shields down now, and why hide his eyes to begin with?

“Too bad,” she said with a shrug. “They’re very pretty.”

The response was that of a slightly slower blink, followed by a series of rapid ones, before his gaze shifted away from hers, along with a slight turn of the head and working of the lips. As she studied that body language, she felt her mouth fall open a little as she suddenly realized what it actually meant.

“Thanks,” he said, still not looking at her.

With some effort, she managed to close her mouth and turn away, hefting the pistol again. Feeling like she’d said far too much, she looked at her pistol, then back at him. Something about his stance and grip felt off. “Adam, when was the last time you actually held a rifle?”

He looked at her. “It’s, uh, been a while. Why do you ask?”

“You’re holding it kind of wrong.” Gathering her courage and holstering the pistol, she stepped over to him, leaned in, and adjusted his grip without a word, then shifted the rifle further into his shoulder and slapped the top. “There. That probably feels better, right? What do you think?”

Adam looked at her in complete silence, and as it stretched on, she grew painfully aware of their proximity. There was really only enough space at each counter for one person and some change, so cramming two people in meant things became very intimate, very quickly. When she looked up, she found his face maybe two hands’ breadth from hers, and her shoulder had come to rest nonchalantly against his upper arm.

“Uh...” The uncharacteristic response made her blush harder, but also made her pulse jump a notch. With a few more quick blinks and a bit of his tongue twitching behind his lips, he opened his mouth, closed it, looked at her shoulder, then back at her with another, slower blink.

No way was she moving. “Well?” Oh, good, now her voice betrayed her.

“Eh... yeah, it’s... it’s much better. Thanks.” Another pause, shorter than the last one. “You can... Thanks.”

For good measure, she offered him a smirk as she backed out of his area, but when she turned her back, her face fell, and her hands landed on her cheeks. They felt far too warm, creeping up to her ears; she gritted her teeth. He was beautiful, but she didn’t have any actual feelings, just a crush she knew would never go anywhere. Those weren't unusual for anyone, and for her, well, what good would it do to think otherwise? All it would end up doing was leave her pining when she should be focusing instead. Or sleeping. Also something she should be doing.

More suppressed shots; she looked in time to see him empty to clip, then shift the rifle into the crook of his right arm to seize the clip with his left.

He pulled too hard, the clip flew out of his grip, and the rifle bumped the counter with a loud crack.

The clip bounced once and skidded across the floor; she stopped it with one foot, picked it up, and turned it over in both hands while looking at him from under her lashes. She felt a tad too shy to do much else, and beneath his bewildered gaze, his lips faintly pursed, she couldn’t think as clear she would have liked.

“Are you tired, too?” she murmured.

Adam studied her for a long time before lowering the rifle to the counter and sliding his hand from the grip. He took a slow step toward her, hesitated, and took a few more, all of them at a painfully deliberate pace. When he reached out to touch the clip, his fingers drifted close to hers. The other hand followed after a few moments to take the clip from underneath, but this time, those fingers did brush hers. The shell felt slightly porous and pitted, but surprised her with its warmth, flooding her body with echoes of his own and making her heart skip a beat.

Maybe this wasn’t just a crush. Maybe it was something a lot more persistent.

“Yeah, a little,” he murmured. “I’m probably gonna cut out for the night.” With obnoxious suddenness, he plucked the clip from her grip and looked away at an angle, brow furrowing, then he looked the other way, as if searching for a way out of whatever he had gotten himself into. The way he turned away spoke volumes in a language she didn’t understand, and she suddenly felt like, maybe, she didn’t belong here.

“I should probably go, too,” she said, and picked her bag off the floor, slinging it over her shoulder. For a long moment, she just gazed at him again, feeling something settle inside her.

There were worse people to crush on.

But as she headed for the door, trying not to dwell on her embarrassment, she heard at her back, “Hey, Aria? Thanks for letting me stick around for a while tonight.”

The door slid open, but she stopped halfway through, looked back at him, and smiled.

[ruffoverthinksthings]

Thank you so much, it's so so sweet. What's wrong with Freddie? Depression? I can see that after living in the Isle with the darkness as well as all the other anxieties and abuses of the aisle kids. Chad's over-dramatics are hilarious as they are endearing. I love those two. Can you do the other questions (any that you want) with Cheddie or Benxjordan. Thank you! Have a good day!

Depression likely, yes, but also trust issues and the generalphysical fatigue and stress that comes with having to rely completelyon yourself, always watching your back, and never having someone toconfide in.

She’s lost all of that by the time she reaches Auradon and getstogether with Chad, but now she’s suffering from the “This is NotNormal” syndrome, where a person who came from an abusivechildhood/background subconsciously longs for the normalcy ofproblems and suffering, because not having them is so strange andalien it’s actually causing problems and suffering, even iflogically speaking they shouldn’t have them anymore.

Think of how people who are used to getting into fightsconstantly, aggressively pick on and inflame people for the sole sakeof being in conflict with someone, feel that their life is going“normally” because they it isn’t “a normal day” if theyhaven’t punched someone’s lights out at least once.

In short: recovery from abuse is complicated and confusing.

Onto questions 10-16of 30, as this is getting WAY longer than Ithought it would:

10.Who remembers what the other one always orders at arestaurant?:

“The Silver Surfer” was a diner, one of the manyformica-and-vinyl relics of a bygone era that had benefited greatlyfrom the influx of working class citizens looking for a place to getsome grub and hang out at the end of the day, without the presence ofbooze.

Freddie always wondered why Chad was always so cool with going tothese places, instead of the many, much more upscale establishmentsthey could have gone to, and that he could easily afford. Even if thefare was lovingly prepared and genuinely delicious, the place wasstill as greasy, smelling of burgers and fries of years past, andstained and scarred as you would expect it to be.

His explanation was “No one makes milkshakes quite like the kindyou can get from here,” but she knew there was more to it thanthat.

Interrogating him could wait until after lunch, however.

They stepped in right in the middle of the rush, Chad going firstand taking the brunt of people bumping into him, and the bits of foodand condiments flying from mouths and malfunctioning condimentbottles, until they managed to get lucky and found a recently vacatedand cleaned corner booth.

With a flourish, he gestured to the side of the seating thatwasn’t patched up with duct tape, Freddie chuckled and slid intofaux-leather cushions like it was a seat beside the head of the tableat the annual Feast of the Great Uniting.

He was about to take the seat across her when Freddie noticed thebottom of her purse was stained dark and wet. “Aw, fuck!” shesaid as she opened it up.

“What’s wrong?” Chad asked.

“Something broke, is what!” Freddie said as she got back up.“I need to go clean up in the bathroom before something in herestarts moving all on its own.”

“Then go,” Chad said. “I’ll hold down the fort here.”

“Let me go find something to write with first...”

“What for?”

“So you’ll know exactly what I want,” Freddie said as shescanned the contents, hoped that the pen she’d left in there hadn’tgotten caught in the goop.

Chad smirked. “Bet you 50 bucks from me, or a kiss from you thatI’ll guess it right.”

“You’re on,” Freddie said, smiling at him for a momentbefore she hurried on off to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, the spill was cleaned up, glass vials wererinsed out, and broken stoppers thrown into the trash. Just in time,too, as a waitress was already at their table, getting ready to serveup their orders.

“Better pucker up, Fred!” Chad said as she sat back down.

“And you better get your wallet ready,” Freddie replied cooly.

The waitress playfully rolled her eyes before she started servingup Freddie’s order: “One plate of Cajun hot wings, paprika fries,side of green beans in mayo, and beignets with raspberry ice cream.”

Freddie paused. “Wow. You actually got it right. Colour meimpressed!”

Chad chuckled. “Thank my excellent memory...” he said, beaminglike a victorious knight atop the highest peak of a mountain.

“Or maybe thank his saving all the receipts from all the othertimes you two were here, and him figuring out which stuff you alwaysorder,” the waitress said as she served up Chad’s food.

Freddie chuckled as Chad suddenly looked like a victorious knightwho’d just had the ground beneath his feet crumble, and send himtumbling down the side of the mountain he was just standing atop of.

He smiled sheepishly at her. “Does this mean I still get mykiss?”

Freddie scooted around to him seats and planted a quick peck onhis cheek. “Not on the lips because you had a cheat sheet.”

“Fair enough.”

11.Who tops?:

“Best just lay back, wait till it’s all over, and try yourdamnedest to look interested,” was the most common thread of adviceFreddie had gotten from everyone who’d cared to answer herquestions about sex.

And for the most part, it was true: most every boy or girl she’dever had sex with was positively terrible at it, too clumsyand inexperienced, too focused on getting there themselves, or hadtwisted ideas about how they wanted to do so.

She’d made do with it, just like everyone else on the Isle.

Sex was something you might do for fun, but for the most part itwas business like everything else, something you offer up in exchangefor a warm place to sleep at night, food, or something to make theirshitty lives slightly less shitty.

And if ever you did stumble upon the rare individual that wasblessed with experience and skill, you’d best expect that youwouldn’t have them for long, as they’d soon enough find someonewho could offer more than you did.

“Sweaty, gross, uncomfortable grinding with a lot of gruntingand cursing,” was how Freddie described her experience with sex.“And the guys always demanded to be on top, something about beingon bottom offended them too much—or probably reminded them of allthe times they were there and didn’t like it.”

“What about the guys that liked being on bottom?” Chad asked.

“I stayed away from them,” Freddie replied. “If what Eviesays is even half-true, those guys demand literally gettingstepped on, at the least, and that’s really not my thing,”she said with a shudder.

Chad frowned. “Now that’s not right: sex should be somethingamazing for everyone involved.”

Freddie looked away. “Not for me it isn’t.”

Chad reached out, and put his hand atop hers. “How about I proveyou wrong? Just name a time and a place.”

Freddie looked at him slyly. “How about right here and rightnow?”

Chad grinned. “Give me an hour.”

And in that hour, he’d showered, cleaned up his bedroom, and setup actual scented candles and soft music; he flirted with her, hekissed her, he touched her, doing everything in his power to convinceher to say “Yes,” all while repeatedly telling her she could say“No,” whether that was now while she was still on the fence, whenthey were already making out in his bed, or even when they had bothstripped naked and Chad was definitely raring and ready to go.

Freddie had often wondered why the adults referred to sex as“making love” when in her experience, there was nothing romanticabout it.

Now, as she lay beneath him, wrapped up in his strong, lovingarms, both of them sweaty, exhausted, and satisfied, she realizedthat it wasn’t the act, it was who she was doing it with.

12.Who initiates kisses?:

Crowds and Freddie never got along.

The relationship was either the former ganging up on her, tohumiliate her, mug her, or “convince” her to go along with theirmob, or her weaving about silently picking pockets and fishing foruseful bits of information leaked by loose lips.

To have hordes of people swarming in on her, not to jeer andtaunt, not to rob her, not to hurt her, but to cheer her on, deliverher boyfriend (and that game’s MVP) to her, encourage her to kisshim simply for the sake of it…

It was surreal.

Chad had already taken off his helmet—there was no way he wasever going to let himself be photographed post-game-winning scorewith it still on. His face was sweaty, his hair was mussed up andsticking to his skin, but his grin was as radiant and cocky as ever.

The crowds circled around them, one mind, one goal, one word ontheir lips: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Chad held out a hand to the crowds and gestured for them to calmdown. (The other was securely holding his helmet, to avoid anotherpotential theft.) “Come on, people, it’s the Post-Uniting Era!It’s all up to her if she wants to!”

Freddie chuckled as she reached out and grabbed his jersey, pulledhis face down so she could reach his face. “And just so we’re allclear here, I do,” she said, before she did just that.

In her winter years, she was pretty sure that a good deal of herhearing loss had been to all those times where she’d given Chad akiss after every game she’d been to, win or lose, with or without acrowd to watch and maybe a reporter to get some professional gradefootage of the act.

And always, she would say it was well worth it.

13.Who reaches for the other’s hand first?:

Whatever jealousy Freddie had for the people that were invited tothese grand balls, societal soirees, and “must attend” partiesquickly disappeared during her first two hours in one.

Now it was replaced with jealousy, for all the people that wereout there enjoying great music, delicious food, and pleasant companywithout all the rigid rules and customs, the demanding schedules, andhaving to make pleasant talk with people you didn’t know, didn’tlike, and had to listen attentively to for the full ten-fifteenseconds it took for them to introduce their name, their titles, andwhere Freddie might have heard of them.

(Outside of her circle of close friends and all of the iconicRoyals and personalities, she never had, and probably never would.)

She hated these events, and told Chad and anyone else she couldtell as much. There were so many of them, and unlike going out withher friends on a fun, alcohol-and-recreational-drug fueled bender,this one couldn’t be rescheduled, and rarely was it ever her choiceto go and give it her increasingly few free days.

There was a bright side, however:

Chad introducing himself back, reaching out for Freddie’s hand,and making sure whoever they were talking to had noticed before hesaid, “And this is Frederica, also known as Freddie, mygirlfriend.”

Watching the older and more close-minded of them look in surpriseand struggle to stay polite was always great fun, and the ones thatnodded like they were any other couple or gave her knowing smilesalways felt damn good.

She had to admit she was kind of sad all that was going away nowthat she was his wife, the old guard was beginning to die off, andthe new one was so hyper-connected they probably had the informationbeamed straight into their brains via the fancy chips they hadimplanted in their skulls.

But still, Chad held her hand as firmly and lovingly as ever, soit was all good.

14.Who kisses the hardest?:

In the Isle you learned how to make the most of what you had, asyou didn’t have much to begin with, and even that was constantly atrisk of getting taken away from you, lost, or just breaking apart inyour hands.

You needed to know the myriad uses something as mundane as athree-quarter empty tube of toothpaste. You needed to know exactlyhow much something would be going for in the Trade, Barter, and PettyTheft economy of the Isle. You needed to know exactly what you wantedor planned to do with something the moment you got it, as it was onlya matter of time till you lost it, one way or the other.

Things were different now.

There was always going to be food in the fridge, a place to sleepin, assurance that she could sleep at night in peace without the fearof someone robbing or attacking her. She couldn’t lose her jobwithout at least two weeks notice, she had numerous protections andsafety nets beside, and she wasn’t about to lose all of her moneyunless she got particularly stupid with it. And despite her initialdoubts, Chad was in it for the long haul, and it didn’t look likehe was planning on getting off any time soon, nor had the thoughtever seemed to cross his mind.

But as they say, old habits die hard.

“Goodness, Fred!” Chad cried as he literally pulled her off ofhim once again. “You make-out like there’s no tomorrow!”

Freddie chuckled, her cheeks burning, her breath shallow, herheart racing. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Well, no, but did you ever think of maybe taking it slow foronce?”

“I’ll think about it,” Freddie replied, for all of twoseconds, before she was on Chad once more, kissing those wonderfullips of his, feeling his soft skin and his hard muscles, inhaling hisscent of sweat, expensive soaps, and “rich guy” perfumes,”feeling the strength, the desire, the love he had for her.

She could enjoy his company most any time.

She didn’t need to constantly act like there was some invisibleclock ticking down before this fairy tale of a romance ended.

But she damn well wanted to.

15: Who wakes up first? + 16: Who wants to stay in bed a littlelonger?

She was up well before dawn, as always.

It never really mattered when she had fallen asleep, whether itwas sometime after sunset yesterday, somewhere around midnight, orlittle less than an hour ago, somehow her body clock was permanentlyjammed and set to go off at 4 AM, never fail.

It was a different world, this space in between the darkest nightand the break of dawn.

It was quiet—not the ominous quiet of impending doom, or thepeaceful quiet of a lazy day. Just ‘quiet,’ as the night crowdwas winding down and the earliest of the early birds were juststarting to get up.

Back on the Isle, this was prime time to get moving, to make yourway to the harbour and try to stake a claim to fight and scavenge forthe best (relatively speaking) that the trash barges had to offer,the perfect time to ambush someone or otherwise catch them at theirmost unprepared, to move around freely and quickly without fear ofsurveillance or danger, lest you be that rare person that managed toattract the ire of the most persistent, vengeful, and well-funded ofthe Isle.

But here in Auradon, there was nothing going on, nothing thatneeded to be doing until at least 7 be it school, festivals, orworld-threatening terrors, and nothing she wanted to do, as she hadan aversion to 24-hour convenience stores, there were no parties orevents worth going to at this hour, and the infinitely scrolling pitthat was social media never seemed to be able to get a good grip onher.

Back when she slept alone, this was a problem.

Two hours of her day everyday wasted doing little of anything,with none of the Isle’s constant pressure to keep moving or riskbeing left bleeding in the gutter, and not enough fucks to give aboutgetting a headstart on the day’s schoolwork or all her otherprojects, until after her teachers and her group mates had begun tomake it clear that she finally needed to put some work in.

She just shuffled her shadow cards about, studied the facesalready long burned into memory, or thought about what she needed todo for the day while never actually making any concrete plans torestock her alchemical ingredients or finally go investigate thatculture in the corner before it started to spread further, than she’dlike it to.

All that was a thing of the past, though, because now she hadsomething to look forward to doing most every morning: listening toChad sleep.

She thought it creepy initially. Wasn’t it one of the pillars ofa psycho stalker’s confessing their “love” that they hadwatched their “beloved” sleep?

But as the nights passed by, and she did far nastier, morequestionable things to Chad, sleeping or waking, she was starting torealize it was all a matter of consent: Chad wanted her herewith him, and it wasn’t just for her body heat, or to keep her fromleaving.

(And painfully cliché and cheesy as it sounded, she was startingto experience herself all that mushy, lovey dovey talk about being soridiculously in love with all the little, innocuous details aboutyour lover was all too true.)

She felt him shifting awake behind her, let out a yawn that madeher heart go a-flutter (which was a phrase she never thought she’dever seriously use), before he lovingly nuzzled his face into herhair.

“Morning, Freddie,” Chad hummed. “Been awake for a whilealready?”

“As usual,” Freddie replied.

“You know you don’t have to stay with me in bed so I don’twake up, I sleep like a log.”

Freddie chuckled. “You’re more like a buff, blonde kraken,actually. And besides, I like staying in bed and listening to yousleep, as creepy and stalkerish as that sounds.”

Chad chuckled. “Whatever makes you happy, Fred,” he said as hebegan to unwrap his arms from around her.

Freddie frowned. “Getting up already?”

“Yep,” Chad said as he sat up, “season’s on the horizon,gotta get shit done before it’s training, media blitzes, andactually playing Tourney here and there all over again.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer? Like a minute? Five? Sixty,tops?”

Chad chuckled. “Sure, but it’ll have to be cuddles with a sideof morning breath.”

Freddie smiled. “I’ll take it.”

[obscuraxrp]

The smoke settles to reveal KANG DANIEL, also known as LOTUS, a 20 year old human of Sunseong. He is a university student and florist who appears to be gifted with precognition – but like most things in Sunseong, there seems to be more to him than meets the eye.

FACECLAIM: Kang Daniel, mmo trainee (produce 101)

APPEARANCE:

notable physical characteristics include a minor case of heterochromia iridium (mismatched eyes), with a hazel right eye and a light brown left eye, and standard lobe piercings.

BIOGRAPHY:

his story starts off like any tragedy does, with a bright, naive child who only sees the world through rose-colored glasses and lives only golden tinted days. the boy’s world is one of vivid colors and glowing lights, with even rain appearing as something happy and wondrous to his wide and impressionable eyes. his childhood is one of blooming flowers and blossoming plants, with an earthy petrichor clinging to his every movement.

he spends his days in his mother’s garden, always smiling and always laughing.

(perhaps, if you really tried hard enough, you might still smell the subtle scent of soil on his clothes.)

he’s still a kid when his roots are torn out of the ground and moved elsewhere. his father doesn’t come with him.

he finds himself chasing after the man’s shadow on the late, lonely nights where he would stare at the deathly still ceiling from his small bed and wait for his mother to come home from work, missing the warm smiles and gentle touches that had been painted over by indifferent pats on the head and lackluster quirks of lips. soon, the world around him grows grey and cold, and his smiles grow smaller and smaller.

it is only when the grandfather enters the picture that the wilting blossom begins to rejuvenate.

he begins to spend more and more of his time in the elder’s store, marveling at the beautifully crafted jewelry, and how the smooth metal almost felt otherworldly against his skin.

they grow closer and closer, his mother becoming farther and farther away, and in his head, the store becomes his real home, his grandfather his real family.

on his eighth birthday, he receives a pair of silver earrings. his mother immediately disapproves and forces him to return them.

the boy is left devastated when his roots are upturned once again two years later when he opens the apartment door to find a small, neatly wrapped box at the doorstep.

he opens the door to the familiar store with a wide beam, holding the open black box in one hand, only to smell iron and see red seeping across the floor, with knocked over and emptied shelves covering a body he doesn’t want to look at, a body he doesn’t want to even think for a moment is -

clunk.

a silver earring falls out of the box as it falls, hitting the wooden floor with a clink, and disappears under the large burgundy recliner that he had spent many lazy summers lounging on and listening to stories.

the sound breaks him out of his stupor, and he turns quickly, feet moving to get him somewhere, anywhere, anywhere but here. In his fear, he loses his footing, and he vaguely remembers almost making it to the door before his body lands on the wooden floor with a crack.

he wakes up in a hospital bed barely remembering his name, saying the first words that came to his mind.

“where’s grandpa?”

his mother, disheveled from lack of sleep and ruined by worry, lets out a soft cry at her son’s curious expression, and says the first thing that would soothe his poor heart.

“he’s sleeping now, dear.”

the kids looked at him weirdly nowadays, he found, pointing at his eyes and making faces.

as he begins to pick back up pieces of his memory, he finds holes and loose ends - his grandfather had passed away of old age, and his mother had requested him to stay away from the store for the sake of honoring his wishes. funny thing was, he couldn’t remember the last time he had visited the old man.

they called him names for his strangely colored eyes, laughed at the fact that he only wore one earring - a gift from his late grandfather. There had been two originally, his mother had said.

that was weird. he only remembered having one.

it didn’t bother him, though. to be fair, he thought himself strange, too.

it wasn’t until they started calling him a supernatural that things began to change yet again.

“look at the witch! he’s trying to save his familiar. ”

he outstretches a hand towards the skittish feline, holding onto the tree’s trunk with one hand.

here kitty, kitty.

“you know, my dad told me that really bad witches snatch children away from their families.”

“really? don’t let him get down, then!”

slowly, carefully, it inches towards him, about to touch his hand when -

thunk.

a rock bounces off the branch, scraping against his palm and causing the cat to lose its footing.

no!

and in that moment, he loosens his hold on the trunk and presses his feet against it, ready to jump.

screams. he hears them faintly, growing louder in his mind. and for a split second, he sees his twisted and broken body on the ground, eyes wide open and unseeing. he sees every horrified face, every pair of eyes trained on him that were as wide as saucers, swimming with fear. he sees the cat struggling to remove itself from his limp and useless arms.

a hot white pain bursts through his head at the grotesque image, and as time slowed, his arms move on their own, instead grabbing onto the branch and swinging his body over to catch the creature by its scruff.

he hears the shouting of teachers as he hung onto the tree’s limb with one arm, head buzzing and black spots covering his vision.

they fade away as his grip slips and his arm is relieved of its strain, and he sinks his face into the feline’s fur as he falls into warm, firm arms, eyes closed.

from that day on, his head was constantly swarmed with visions and sleep was hard to come by. quickly falling into an endless cycle of pain and fear, constantly slipping between reality and dream, the boy became an exhausted, empty shell of his former self. every step hurt, every sense was heightened, and visions of himself getting scrapes, bruises, hell, even paper cuts haunted him.

soon he stops going to school, stops leaving his room, stops getting out of bed because it was simply too dangerous.

his mother gives him a ring one day, telling him that it was a “good luck charm”. he doesn’t buy it, but wears it anyways - an apology for the worry and anxiety he’s inflicted on her.

he doesn’t believe it, of course, until the depictions of his death that hang around his dreams, the fear of his future injuries, suddenly don’t seem as bad, don’t seem as harmful. breathing seemed so much easier for some reason; nerves were only small distractions.

and for once, he thinks.

he begins to think that not everything he saw was a truth set in stone; at least, it didn’t have to be.

he starts to realize that he has a power - a power that could change his life.

so he takes a step into the outside world, and, for once, he’s not afraid of it.

CHARACTERIZATION:

a delicate balance between sanguine and grounded, daniel is a star that tries to hide its glow by blending in with the others. he tends to shy from the spotlight, preferring to remain as a background character, although his work ethic and modesty tends to attract more attention than he seeks. he is candid - although easily embarrassed - and carries a strangely endearing charm to his subtly awkward persona, whether it’s by the way he smiles or interacts with others. despite being the designated “straight man”, daniel is exceptionally agreeable, and, unfortunately, an owner of a bleeding heart. a supernatural sympathizer and animal lover with a knack for putting anyone in his vicinity at ease, kang daniel always speaks from his heart and with a strong moral compass.

however, he is often a little too grounded; a natural worrywart and inherent skeptic, daniel frequently views the world through jaded lenses, internalizing much of his conflict. he is, in fact, often overwhelmed due to his inability to control his specialty, and subsequently carries a heavy burden on his shoulders, second-guessing himself on multiple occasions and showing brief moments of indecisiveness or being consumed in thought. at his very worst, he can appear either much too insouciant or exceptionally perturbed - with occasional fits of silence or emotional meltdowns thrown into the mix - although he has a good sense and tends to shut himself in during these times to avoid troubling others.

SPECIALTIES:

Precognition [Rank I] (20 pts) precognition, often characterized as foresight or some form of supernatural premonition, is the ability to fathom future events moments (or even years) before they occur. thus, the holder is capable of altering their actions as to bend time to their will - assuming that they are able to manage their ability well, of course.

Limits:

daniel’s ability currently only operates as a form of danger intuition; when threatened, he unconsciously casts a spell in which visions occur in brief “flashes” that, when uncalled for, can quickly overwhelm the mind, drain energy and render him vulnerable - this is due to an unconscious internal barrier that prevents him from utilizing the entirety of his power.

likewise, he can only see into the immediate future, and is incapable of controlling when “flashes” occur due to lack of mastery. however, his ward allows him to mitigate the impact / shock value of their content, and he can sense them seconds before they occur, causing the likelihood of complete vulnerability to be exceptionally unlikely.

on the other hand, depending on how emotionally charged the visions may turn out to be, the probability of backlash from the spell (manifesting as - on a smaller scale - migraines and sluggishness, and in the worst case scenario, momentary blindness, paralysis or unconsciousness) is fairly likely - effects can last from a few minutes to an hour.

Ward of Time Reduction [Major] (10 pts)

manifestation: a sterling silver earring - horseshoe circular barbell (right ear)

background: having received a pair of earrings at a young age from his grandfather (and later losing one due to unknown causes), daniel frequently refers to the remaining piece as his “lucky charm” - despite being completely unaware of the magical properties that it holds - and is always spotted wearing it.

ability: highly in tune with its user’s emotions, the earring is capable of “slowing down”, or simply skewing the wielder’s perception of time so that they are given extra seconds to think or process thoughts. symptoms include experiencing a “lull” in surroundings, as well as various other visual effects.

limits: the ward’s effects occur only within the mind, and are purely internal - thus having no impact on any external sources. Its powers only span a few moments, and when not utilized properly, can appear as simply sluggishness or a figment of the wielder’s imagination.

Ward of Calming [Major] (10 pts)

manifestation: a plain, silver ring (right index finger), with a width of roughly four millimeters - incapable of rusting and with the inscription K.D. on the inner ring.

background: a ring given to him by his mother, who hoped to “cure” his fits as a child with a ward from a supernatural friend of his late grandfather.  despite initially wearing it as a reminder of his family and home, he begins to wear it permanently after experiencing complete vulnerability once taking it off.

ability: also exceptionally empathetic, the ward enables a calming feeling that slows abnormal increases in heart rate and immediately stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system. this ward is also capable of using its owner as a vessel for its magic, therefore allowing them to spread this effect to other hosts through contact.

limits: the ward works of its own accord, only activating once it picks up on discrepancies within the user’s nervous system, and is tailored specifically to and only for daniel. this renders it useless if any other person were to attempt to utilize it. the magic is purely initiated through touch, and its benefits are unable to be bestowed upon the other lifeforms it comes into contact with unless two requirements are met: (1) the host (i.e. - daniel) is wearing it, and (2) the host has made physical contact (that hasn’t been broken) with said lifeform.

Unspent: 60 pts