#i can get around with basic tasks fine but god forbid i try to walk anywhere or exercise

[whoistheasshole]

How do I get out of this unsatisfying life I’m living?

Anonymous asks: So the thing is that I feel incredibly stuck - I have all the basics of life which I'm grateful for but also that was my BIG dream as a kid, to get tf out of my parents' house - but now I have that and idk what to do for the rest of my life. Like, if I try those "visualize your future" things I'm just like, "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer" & it feels like I don't really WANT anything so I can't plan, you know? Just flailing here honestly. Pretty tired of it.

I wrote back: I got your question. To pinpoint my answer a little better, can you tell me about your current situation, like how long has it been since you moved out? Which are the things you have in order to your satisfaction? Some vague idea of your age range would also be helpful, but I can work without it too if you’d rather not share.

Anonymous answered: Ah, sorry. I was trying to fit in the character limit & also whenever I think about this my mind just goes flbbbbth. It's been about 5 years? That's about the only thing I'm truly HAPPY about, I'm not thrilled with my social/love life, career, etc & have pretty much been just coasting tbh. I'm almost 30. Thanks for entertaining this.

Alright, thanks for adding some background. I will come at this from different angles and you can pretty much pick and choose what sounds helpful and leave the rest, okay?

First, while there are people who have it all figured out, methodically planning their next career step or fully certain that there is no greater joy than raising a child, there are tons of other people who just, to quote, go „ flbbbbth“ when asked about their next steps or, god forbid, their life plan. I would say I fall in the latter camp, but I don’t mind because I think there is nothing wrong with that. I let myself be guided by the things I need to be happy (more on that later) and by current necessities – if my job becomes shit, I need to find a new job. If a friendship goes sour, I need to end it respectfully. But I couldn’t tell you specific career or personal goals, except...

... let’s talk about the „later“ now.

I’m an organizer, maybe even a worrier, and therefore I like lists. And for that reason I made a list a while ago that I still have and expect to keep for a long time. It is a list of everything that I need to be satisfied with my life. It consists of 29 entries and has three of them checked, though several others could be counted as half-checked. I wrote down everything that came to mind, paying no attention whether it was reasonable or feasible to want. That wasn’t the question.

It covers stuff like a clean flat (not checked), restful sleep (not checked), friends that I see regularly (checked) or a job with purpose (not checked). This list is my guide. Well, generally my needs are my guide, but it can be hard to be aware of your needs sometimes, so I got this list. And if I wonder what I need or want to focus on, I can turn to it and choose one of the entries and see what I can do about it. I can also look over the list every few years and see if things have developed in the right direction. Little progress is no reason to chastise myself, but helpful information to see whether I need to re-direct my focus.

Please note that I wrote „satisfied“, not „happy“. Being happy is a passing emotional state. It is completely normal and okay not to be happy all the time. But quiet satisfaction with where you are or where you are going, that is pretty achievable. It certainly is a process, but an enjoyable one.

This list is not a race and it is not really a to-do list because most of the things I wrote down aren’t easy to accomplish with a single action. They take months and years and, for some items, I can only try and hope it works out some day (see anybody who ever purposely looked for a partner).

So maybe this kind of list could be an exercise for you. Maybe it provides you with some insight, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s not the right point in your life. But if you sit down and the only thing you can come up with is „cry forever“ or „sleep forever“ then, you know, that’s a sign.

Which brings me to my next point: Journaling or automatic writing. This method is especially helpful for those „I feel some kind of way and I couldn’t even tell you how“ moments – so maybe exactly where you are right now. Captain Akward has introduced me to a website called „750 words“ and I’ve used the principle of „morning pages“, though not the website, since then whenever I felt like some emotions were starting to boil over.

I sit down, ideally in the morning, and just barf it all on the (digital) page. There are only two rules: 1) Don’t edit or judge yourself, write everything as it comes to mind (that’s the automatic writing part) and 2) Don’t stop before you’ve reached 750 words. You are not looking to write anything readable or clever or lyrical, you’re looking to get all the weirdness out so you can move on. Repeat this as many days as you feel queasy or weird or confused or angry or sad. Each day, as soon as you’ve reached the 750 words, you can walk away. Heck, you could even delete/burn the document if that feels right. It’s just about giving your thoughts the room they need so you can continue with your day, hopefully feeling somewhat relieved.

While we’re at writing, I also have a question for you: Where is the pressure coming from to „do something with your life“? Is it truly coming from inside you or are there outside factors? Are people in your life asking you when you’ll have kids? Do you live in a culture where it’s expected that everybody does something of note, works certain prestigious jobs? Do you compare yourself to the people around you and feel like you’re „late“?

Maybe mull this over on a leisurely walk or write about it, using the method above. No matter where it’s coming from, the feeling of pressure won’t go away just by knowing its origin, but the knowledge can help you keep it under control. And if you find it is truly your own wish, you will have tools to shape your life according to your needs.

So, next, sleep: Maybe do that?

You wrote "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer". I understand this was half a joke, but also … it was probably more than a joke.

How are your energy levels? How does life feel? Are you trying to jog through jello most of these days?

If we’ve been overachievers or had a tough home life or needed to take care of ourselves pretty early, we can become accustomed to everything being difficult. This feeling and behavior can become a way of life, even when circumstances change and we have a chance to act differently.

Do you feel rested? Do you have regular moments of quiet in your life that let you breathe? If not, this is where I would start. Forget about lists, though morning pages might be a helpful accompanying tool (if they don’t become a task to punish yourself with if you don’t find the energy).

Take some weeks or months, maybe even a year to make rest your priority. You will have to find a way that works for you. Yes there is a lot of clinically proven stuff out there, but you will not see me do yoga or meditate. Though feel free if that’s up your alley. If you love cycling or taking photos or drawing or just plain lying on your bed and staring at the wall, see where you can add more of that to your day. Whatever brings you closer to yourself and makes you feel like you can exhale and stand still for a moment, that’s the way to go. Do this as long as sleeping seems like a fine choice. And for good measure maybe a month longer. You are ready to stop when you cannot wait to do something else goddamnit I’m bored!!! (you might say)

If you are in this picture, please start here. Any kind of life plan, next steps, strategizing, solving of riddles would set you back and perpetuate your exhaustion. Rest is not time wasted, rest is how you get your life back.

If you are in this picture, you will likely find that if you really pull through, if you truly rest, as long and boring or even scary as it may be, the other questions will probably have an intuitive answer afterwards. Not like „this is my 20-year career plan“, but „I feel like doing x this week“. And that is enough. Because you won’t need to strain to hear your needs through the fog of exhaustion anymore.

Finally, some practical information and links for when you do have the energy and inclination to tackle your job and social life. I am not saying you need to change anything if that’s not what you want to focus on. These are just some tips, in case they become relevant.

For your social life, I recommend what others have recommended before me: Pick an activity that you do with other people and stick with it long enough to become a familiar face, see also here and here (yes, meeting gay people is similar to meeting other people). If you try out new stuff, go there at least 5 or 6 times before you decide it’s not for you – of course assuming nothing bad is coming up like racist or abusive people in the group. Shop around if the first group/activity doesn’t work for you until you find something that you’d like to do permanently. Maybe you’ll gain some friends, maybe you’ll find a romantic opportunity. In any case, if it’s something fun that you like to do anyway, you will have found an outlet with a social group attached. It is absolutely not as easy right now, with Covid and all, but if nothing outdoors-y comes to mind, you could also use this time to brainstorm what sounds like fun for when things are safer again.

Of course you can also look at opportunities online, like Discord servers, online interest groups etc but I do understand if that’s just not appealing right now. I am certainly over sitting in front of a screen.

To round this up, don’t sneeze at contacts that you already have. Are there acquaintances, friends of friends, colleagues, family members who you would like to get to know better? Then go do that! Suggest a time and place to meet up and see how they react. Say yes to the potential friends.

Speaking of which...

The Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes might also be interesting. Sure, it’s a little pop culture positive thinking kinda stuff, but I did like the impulse it gave me to consider when I say no to opportunities out of anxiety or worry. It made me accept some social invitations from colleagues (… in the before times) that I would not have otherwise considered. I did not gain life-long friends, but I did learn another valuable info: That my FOMO wasn’t justified for these events ;)

It also lead me to the decision to do one new thing every month – visit a new place or try a new activity or cook a new food. If the concept sounds appealing, just think about what sounds interesting and achievable to you.

And finally, the advice blog recommendations that I’ll always have. For social life, love life, and general life planning turmoil: Captain Awkward. For everything job-related, including how to write a good cover letter or interview well and, of course, how to get out of the dreaded current job you have: Ask A Manager.

To sum it up:

1) Figure out if you even have the energy to tackle any of this right now.

2) Figure out your pillars for a satisfying life – nothing big and shiny, just … basic needs, wishes, social needs.

3) When you feel like it, pick what you want to tackle next and see where it leads you.

4) Stay flexible. This is your life and it’s okay to go where it takes you, even if it doesn’t look „cool“ or „impressive“ from the outside. All you need is to make it your own.

And if you want to, let me know how it goes some time. :)

[sestra-inestro]

Brat

Summary: Enemies to lovers fuck-buddies?

Pairings: fem!short!reader x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: 18+ smut, manhandling, a fuck load of swearing, violence, also kind long. 

A/N: Just before y’all read anything, take note: JUNE IS NOT AN OC! Do not comment and message me telling me what not to tag on my stories. Read the description on my Main Masterlist to save yourself some unwanted opinions. Unless it is specified, like this fic is for example, June is not female, white, black, curly-haired, bald, short or tall and is up to interpretation. See it as if you were playing June in the movies/TV shows, you are June. Don’t like it? Don’t read it. There's plenty of Y/N fics. If you have something you want specifically mentioned then you request it, otherwise, you keep your thoughts on how I should tag my stories to yourself. Rant over. 

To say you hated each other perfectly summed up your relationship with James Buchanan Fucking Barnes. Ever since he joined the Avengers he has had it out for you. But lately? All communication between you two was a screaming match and dirty looks.

“You’re such a fucking asshole!” You yelled at him. Your scowl was starting to hurt your face but every time you looked at him you couldn’t help but snarl. 

“Says you. You just had to fucking be in the wrong position. I saved your fucking life.” He pointed at you. 

“I didn’t need you to save my life.” You threw your arms up. “I had a plan!” 

“A shit plan that you didn’t even alert us about!” 

“I told you I fucking had it and to stay put!” 

Steve, Sam, Clint, and Natasha watched from the kitchen as you two screamed back and forth. Wanda walked in and sighed at the commotion. 

“Are they still arguing?” She sighed as she sat down. 

“Yeah.” Steve took a sip from his beer and continued to watch them. 

“What about this time?” Wanda asked. 

“Tony asked if they could hang a picture up on the wall above the TV. Bucky held the ladder while June climbed it.” Steve explained. A simple task that they can’t even get through without arguing. 

“It was like death-wobble city. They were yelling at each other and then the ladder fell. I think he accidentally hurt her when he caught her.” Clint said as he, also, took a sip of his beer. 

“Fuck you, Barnes! You did nothing but fucking injure me!” You screamed at him. 

“Yep.” Sam sighed. 

“You think they’ll ever get along?” Wanda asked them. 

“Yeah. They just need to fuck.” Natasha said, carelessly. 

Everyone turned away from your bickering with Bucky and looked at Nat. She looked around at the shocked faces.

“What?” 

“What did you just say?” Steve questioned her. 

“I said they just need to fuck.” Nat shrugged. 

“Really?” Wanda looks back towards you both, still bickering. 

“Yep.” Nat leaned forward to explain her theory. “All that pent up anger is directed at each other. Clearly, fighting and arguing is not helping thy situation, only making it worse. If they get physical and hurt each other, that could just make them hate each other more.” She gestured to you both. “If they tire each other out by fucking, they let out all that pent up anger, and are taking out on each other.” Nat leaned back in her seat and raised her beer. “They just need to fuck.” 

Clint hooted and clinked his beer bottle with hers. 

Steve rolled his eyes while Sam and Wanda considered it to be a good idea and nodded. 

“Cap, set that up.” Clint spoke. 

Steve’s head snapped towards him. “Why me?” 

“Because you set up the missions.” Clint explained. “Give them one that’s bound to make them fuck.” 

Steve groaned. “Can you please stop saying that?” 

“It’s a way of life, Steve.” Nat shrugged. “It’ll get them both off their rage kicks and out of their dry spells. There will be a lot less of this,” she pointed to where you both were now walking away from each other but still throwing up middle fingers at each other. “And more of this.” She made a sex gesture with her hands. 

“Oh, god.” Steve groaned again and ran his hands over his face. 

He definitely would love to see you both shut up and be nice to one another just once. 

“Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’m sending you all on a three-month mission with them both.” 

“Who are you talking about?” You asked, entering the kitchen with a sour face. 

“No one.” They all said at the same time, avoiding eye contact and drinking their beers. 

-

You woke up completely unbothered today. You were going on a mission for a few weeks, which means you’d be away from Bucky for a while. Peace and quiet for a while. You had your duffel bag thrown over your shoulder as you marched onto the quinjet. You threw your bag in the luggage area before taking a seat at the pilots’ seat, strapping in and waiting for your teammate. You still didn’t know who you paired with but you didn’t care. 

Setting up the flight controls and logging in the location, you pulled on the headset just as someone stomped onto the jet 

You turned your head and annoyance ran through your body. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You groaned and leaned back in the seat. 

“Oh fuck off.” Bucky grumbled upon seeing you.

He threw his bag to the luggage area and trudged over to the co-pilot’s seat and you punched the numbers on the control panel, calling Steve. 

“Hey, you haven’t left yet?” Steve answered.

“No, Steve. What the fuck?” You said exasperated through the speaker. 

“Yeah, what the fuck? You paired me with her? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky butted in. 

“First of all, stop swearing at me.” You just knew Steve was holding up a finger. “Second of all, you two need to get over whatever childishness is going on and just fucking put up with it.” You and Bucky both leaned back from the speaker in shock at his words. 

“Get the mission done, and don’t come back until you two can act like mature adults.” Steve hissed and hung up. 

You and Bucky sat in silence and shock for a second. 

He was right, you and Bucky had been fighting a lot worse than usual lately. You couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as each other and now you had to go on an undercover mission together. 

This was going to be shit. 

You sighed before powering up the jet and closing the hanger doors. 

“Fine.” You mumble to yourself. 

Bucky pulls on his headset and you two ignore each other the entire ride. 

-

Once you landed, you both grabbed your bags and headed to the hotel that had been set up by Nat. 

“Two rooms under Rushman.” You said to the clerk. 

He checks the computer and frowns. “Sorry, there’s only one room booked.” 

You frowned at him. “No there should be two.” 

“I’m sorry but there’s only one registered under Rushman.” 

You groaned. 

“Well is there any other rooms available?” You felt like you were going to die. 

“Sorry. All our other rooms are occupied.” The clerk offered you the keys to the room. 

“For fuck sake.” Bucky grumbled before grabbing his bag from the ground and you snatched the key card from the clerk’s hand. 

He flinched at your harsh movement and frowned at you. 

Despite your frustration towards him, he wishes you a good night as you follow Bucky to the room. 

You walked up to the room and unlocked it quickly, the sooner you can get in the sooner it’s over. 

Opening the door, you sigh. “At least there are two beds.” 

“Yeah, god forbid I have to share a bed with you.” Bucky pushes passed to enter the room and you throw the bird to his back. 

He went straight to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. 

You moved to the bed furthest away from the front door and started unpacking your stuff. You brought minimal products, keeping your luggage to the undercover clothing you need, weapons, your uniform, and pajamas. 

You quickly got into your pajamas and slipped into the bed, turning away from the bathroom. 

A few moments after, Bucky opened the bathroom door, dressed in his sleep clothing. 

“Aren’t you going to shower?” He questioned as soon as he saw you already in bed. 

“No.” You mumbled. 

Bucky huffs in return and shuts off the lights you hear his rustling bed covers before silence, letting you finally drift off the sleep. 

-

The next day you woke up before Bucky and decided to make the most noise you could. You knew he would be able to hear you when you got up, so to annoy him further you slammed doors, threw your bag and turned up your phone so the notifications echoed through the room. 

You were showered and typing away on the Stark Laptop obnoxiously when Bucky finally growled and threw back his blankets. 

“Are you just trying to piss me the fuck off?” Bucky glared at you with disheveled hair and the grumpiest face you’ve ever seen.

“If I am it looks like it’s working.” You said, unbothered by his mood and still looking at the laptop. 

“Fucking bitch.” He mumbled under his breath before marching to the bathroom and slamming the door. 

The rest of the day consisted of you both ignoring each other until it was time to go to work. 

You stepped out of the bathroom in a flowing cream-white dress that ruched down the sides and led the slit down the side of your leg with little sparkles through all the fabric, your figure curved as it was all held together with a bodysuit underneath. Your heels complimented your dress and legs so much that Bucky couldn’t help but stare at you as you collected your faked invitation from your bed. 

You turn to look at him dressed in his dress shirt, dress pants, and a tux jacket. You couldn’t help but think he was actually very hot in his clothing, and you also noticed him staring at your body. 

You smirked. “See something you like, Barnes.” 

Bucky looks up to your eyes quickly as he knows he’s caught and screws up his face. “Just surprised you can actually look like a lady.”

“Yeah?” You raised your eyebrows. “Well, fuck being a lady. You’re no gentleman either.” You shouldered him as you walked passed him. 

He begrudgingly followed you out the door to the hire flashy car to take you to the party. 

You both sat in a high tension silence until you arrived at the party.

It was a big mansion filled with fancy people. You don’t know why Tony couldn’t be sent for this. It’s basically his scene. The driver opened both of your doors and Bucky walked around to your side and offered his arm. 

The charade is on and you both walk up the entry stairs and presented your faked invitations. The clerk nodded and opened the door for you both. 

With your hand woven around Bucky’s arm, you both enter to see many people mingling and holding little champagne glasses of bubbly. 

“I see our guy.” You say as you swipe a glass from a passing tray. A guy amongst the crowd people that stood out with his white hair was smiling and drinking while conversing. 

“Okay,” Bucky said as you broke apart. The earpiece keeping you connected. “I’ll get behind him to stay near.” 

“Approaching target.” You confirmed. 

You put on your best salutary saunter over to him, holding your glass in your hand and doing your best to capture his eyes. 

And it worked. 

He spotted you on your way over to him and turned his attention to you. 

“Why, hello there beautiful.” He looked down to you as you reached him, offering you a wide grin. His white hair almost blinded you as it shone it the lights. 

“Hello, handsome.” You said in a low voice. You heard Bucky grunt at your words but you ignore him. 

“I don’t recall ever meeting you. I know I would definitely remember you.” His eyes traveled down your body. 

“Well,” You jutted out your hip and rested on it. “I guess that gives you the opportunity to get to know me all over again.” You ran your finger over his shoulder and gave him your best seductive smile. 

You spent the next two hours with him, joined at his arm. Bucky followed close behind and monitored the whole situation while doing his best to blend in. 

You managers to get the target pretty drunk, to the point where he kept running his hand down your back to your backside. 

He leans down and whispers in your ear: “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private, so I can get to know you much better.”

Inside you were cringing hard as his white hair tickled your skin. 

You turned to look at him and gave him a smile. “Sure.” You agreed. 

He immediately pulled you across the room and into a dark hallway that was isolated. You both could still hear the music from the party and people talking but he didn’t care as he slammed you against the wall and buried his head in your neck. You felt him growl against your skin as he tried to take off your dress but you distracted his hands by linking your hands together and pulled him closer. 

You reached down to your thigh holster and pulled out the sedative to bring to his neck. You were about to puncture his skin when someone yelled. 

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” You both pulled apart and you quickly hid the sedative in between your breasts. 

“What?” You pushed the target away from you and you frowned at Bucky. 

“What the hell are you doing with him right now?” Bucky stormed up to both of you, absolutely fuming. 

“Is this you’re boyfriend?” The target asked. He raised his arms in defense as Bucky glared at him. 

“Beat it old man.” He snarled and the target didn’t argue and ran. 

“Um, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked him, your head was full of confusion. 

“You weren’t listening to anything I was saying.” Bucky pointed down to you. 

“Are you serious that dictating that you think I’m gonna listen to every word you say when I have to target literally on me? I couldn’t even hear you.” You snapped back.

Bucky grumbled something under his breath and grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out of the mansion and to the car. When you got back to the hotel, he dragged you all the way back up to the room.

Bucky opens the door and throws his grip on your arm into the room before him. You stumble in your heels into the room, catching your balance and turning around to glare at him. 

“What the fuck, James?” You growl. 

“You wanna act like a brat. I’ll fucking treat you like a brat.” He slammed the door shut and turned to you with a dark look in his eyes. “When are you going to stop?” 

“You’re the reason I fucking started to begin with! You ruined the mission!” You said with irritation. “And there’s no way I’m acting like a brat.” 

“Maybe I should fuck the brat out of you.” Bucky stepped forward, loosening his tie.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’d like to see you try.” 

A dark smirk dawned his face as he stepped closer to you, your body just centimeters away from his, but your stubbornness didn’t falter. 

“You’ve got a big mouth for such a small girl.” He said looking down at you.  

You screwed your face up and went to swear at him but he cut you off before he could. His lips smashed into yours with an unloving and rough pace. His hands grasp a firm grip on your forearms, pulling you against him and his lips mold to yours. 

You’re shocked as your body stiffens at his actions, but you wake up and you start to resist his antics. You squirm yourself out of his grip and push him away from you. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Your voice is evident with shock. Your eyes are wide as he goes to approach you again. 

“You said you’d like to see me try and fuck the brat out of you.” He says with a shrug. “Maybe you shouldn’t open your mouth if you can’t handle it.” 

You raise your brows. “Oh, you think I can’t handle you?” 

“That’s what you’re telling me right now.” He says with a smirk. 

“Fuck you.” You pull him back to you by the back of his neck, his lips smashing against yours once again. 

You start to pash him roughly as he did before, you can feel his teeth against you and his hand’s wind around your waist. His hands are firm against your body and pulling you flush against him. 

He pulls back for a second. “I don’t think you could fuck me good enough.” He says with a first smirk. 

He was trying to aggravate you. And it was working. 

“You wanna bet?” 

“Don’t bet,” he pushed you against the wall, slamming your back into it. “Prove it.” 

You pushed him back and turned around, pushing his shoulders into the wall this time. 

“Afraid I’ll fuck you better than you could fuck me?” You smirked, looking up at him and running your hand down his hip and almost touching his length before he growled and grasped arms again. 

This time he slammed you into the wall with your chest against it and your arms behind you back and his mouth against your ear. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk out of here tomorrow.” His voice was husky and low in your ear, promising to dick you down all night. 

He pushed his pelvis against your ass and you felt his hard length. He was big, really big. 

You moan at the thought of him inside you. 

“You feel what you did to me?” He whispered on your ear, grinding his hips into your backside. “You in this fucking dress all night, thinking it’s funny to play around all night when you should be working. I should fucking punish you.” 

“God, yes.” You moan out and push back against the roll of his hips. 

“I’m going to nail you into the mattress.” He groans and your ass moves against his clothes cock. 

You sigh in frustration, the dry grinding no more arousing you than annoying you now. “Just shut up and fuck me.” 

At your words, Bucky lets out an animalistic growl. His hand wraps around you and grabs the front of your throat, twirls you around to stand in front of him away from the wall and launches you onto the bed with force. 

You squeal and bounce as you hit the bed. You watch as Bucky stalks towards, ripping his tie and jacket off his bulked body and tossing them to the floor. 

The action sends waves of arousal to your core and the look in his eyes is primal. 

He kneels on the bed and grabs your ankles. 

He runs his hands up the length of your legs resting at your hips. Hooking his fingers under the band of your thong, he pulls it over your hips and down your legs, groaning at the sight of your glistening pussy. 

He pulls them around your heels and flings them across the room before he grasps your ankles again and pulls you to lie flat on your back. 

“Your so wet already.” His husky voice rumbles as he pulls your knees to bend over his shoulders. 

You gasp out as his mouth latches onto your core, lapping at your soaking folds fast. 

You lean up on your elbows and pull the slit of your dress aside to see his mouth buried in your cunt, his blue piercing eyes looking into yours as he eats what you give. 

“Fuck yes,” you throw your head back as his tongue circles around your clit. You reach down and push him closer by the back of his head and grind your hips against his mouth. “Go faster.” 

He growls but meets your demands as his tongue swirls around your clit at record speed, making you gasp and your hips stutter. 

“Oh my god, Buck.” You breathe out. You can feel his flesh hand circling your entrance, excitement kicking in and you pull him closer with your legs.

Your movements annoyed him. He detached his mouth from your cunt and sat up. 

“How are you annoying even when I’m trying to fuck you?” Buck glared at you, his mouth wet with your arousal. 

“Trying to fuck me?” You scoffed. “You’re going too slow, when are you actually going to get to fucking me?”

Bucky growls at your words and grabs the top of the slit of your dress and rips upwards. 

You gasp and glare at him. “Do you know how much that fucking dress costs?” 

“I don’t give a fuck.” He snarls and rips it off your body. 

“You fucking-“ 

“Shut up.” He crushed your lips against hi as his hands rush to pull off all of your clothing. 

You feel his hands everywhere. You start to feel dizzy as you run your hands over his broad back. You need to feel his skin against yours and you claw at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him. 

Bucky moves his lips from yours to your jaw and to travel down your body to stop at your chest. His lips wrap around your nipple as he balances his weight just above you and unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off his shoulders. 

You moan as his hot skin lays against yours. Bucky’s hand reaches up to cup your breasts in his hands as he sucks on your nipples. 

“Gosh,” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair. 

He lets go of your breasts and kisses back up your throat and captures your lips again. 

Bucky’s hips start to grind into your bare core, the fabric of his dress pants is rough against your folds. You groan out in pain and pleasure. His length is rock hard and very prominent against you. 

Your hand travels down his body to his fly and belt. Your fingers fumble to undo his pants, Bucky disconnects your lips to rest his forehead against yours and look down at your hands undoing his pants. 

You get the belt off and unzip his pants, using your feet to push them down with his briefs to his ankles. 

He reaches down to grasp his length, pumping it a few times before thrusting straight into your wet core. 

You moan in shock as his cock enters you. He immediately feels you contracting around him and it makes him groan. 

You walls flutter as he sets a strong pace, pounding you into the mattress like he promised you. 

“Fuuuuuck, Bucky.” You whine shakily as your body bounces up and down on the bed. 

“You take me so well. Fucking hell.” He growls as he feels you clench with a groan of your own. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your thighs clenching at his hips. “Harder.” 

Bucky makes good on your demands and pulls back to slam into you harder. 

Your skin slapping against his echoes through the room and you can’t help but grunt each time he thrusts into you. 

“Oh my god.” You pant as his length repeatedly jams at your g-spot. “I’m gonna fucking come.” 

“Come on my cock.” Bucky grunts. “Come on, June.” 

At his words, your hips begin to stutter as you feel yourself let go to his cock. You can’t help the loud and long moan that leaves your mouth as you grip his shoulders, trying to calm your body of your tremors. Your orgasm rips through you and Bucky can feel you clench down on his like a vice. Your warm and wet walls quivering but holding their grip on you, triggering his orgasm and he spills into you. 

You sigh out at the feel of his cum releasing inside of you. He stills his hips against you and throws back his head, releasing a roar as his orgasm rips through his body, before collapsing on top of you. 

The weight of him took the breath out of you so you push him off to roll onto the small space next to you. Both of you panting and a thin layer of sweat glistened over both of your bodies. 

“I don’t think you fucked the brat out of me,” You said between breaths. “But I haven’t had a good dick down in a while.” 

Bucky turned his head to look at you. “You think I’m done with you.” 

You looked at him and frowned. 

Bucky smirked and grabbed you roughly and pulled you on top of him, his length hard between your legs once again. 

“You’re gonna ride me until I tell you to stop.” His words rumbled through his chest before pulling you into another hard kiss. 

-

Your body was completely spent as you lay completely naked on the bed. Bucky leaned on his elbow across the bottom of the bed at your feet. 

You both had gone three more times. The sheets had been ripped off the corners and the covers had been pushed to the floor. 

You stretched out your legs, pointing your toes. The tip of your toes grazed Bucky’s arm. You looked down and traces along his soft skin with your toes. Bucky grasps your foot as it tickles him and brings the tops of your toes to his mouth, press a soft kiss amongst them. 

A small smile graced your lips as you felt him caress your ankle, his hand traveling up your leg. You felt eh bed shift and he got onto all fours and climbed up the length of your body again to rest next to you and look at you. 

“Hi.” He says with a smile. 

“Hi.” You return his smile. 

“You think I fucked the brat out of you now?” He asks and wiggles his eyebrows. 

You sigh dramatically as you pretend to think. You felt no more irritation towards him. His face no longer annoyed you because it could, you honestly just felt like you were much more content. “Yeah, yeah I think you did.” You gave him a soft small smile. 

“Good.” He leans down and kisses your forehead before gathering you up to lay on his chest and wrapped in his arms. 

“You’re so small.” He mumbled against your hair. 

“You’re so warm.” You mumbled back and you nuzzled into his chest, closing your eyes readying for a night of much better sleep than last night. 

Natasha was right, you two just needed to fuck. And fuck hard you did.

[mojofun]

Where My Heart Lies (Loki x OC) - Chapter 3

While he is wreaking havoc, Loki runs into a woman that catches his eye, so he takes her with him. She doesn’t seem to mind at all. Will he let her see the darkest side of him though?

Hello :)

This is the third chapter of the story. Hope you guys enjoy

I’m tagging @mrsbellablythe​ and @queenofchaos7​ :)

Gif not mine, credits to @reinamorena26​

Loki was lost in his thoughts, walking toward the room reserved for Hayley. Well, stumbling, to be more precise.

He hadn’t been himself for weeks, and he could see it every time he caught a glimpse of his reflection; he felt it in his mind, in his emotions, in everything he was… Or no longer was.

He barely managed to keep up his usual facade of detachedness and teasing, his last resort to push away unwanted attention.

Hayley.

Truth be told, her affection fell in the exact opposite category, but what made him classify it as unwanted was the incredibly strong effect it had on him. His resolve was growing weaker day by day, and it was also thanks to the breathtaking brunette that he had not surrendered just yet.

The nights he spent with her were his escape, the sole moment he had to enjoy being himself, without having to hide that he actually had feelings.

Unfortunately, even that was about to change

“If you do not obey we will take that sweet, precious girl of yours. I’m sure the master will enjoy spending some time with her…”

The Other’s words rang ominously in his ears, making him walk faster and faster toward what had become his second bedroom. If only Hayley saw the one he actually slept in, she’d understand… And he couldn’t let her.

Especially after what the revolting creature had said; sure, there had not been any specific threat, but he would have preferred that, to be honest.

It was so vague, yet terrifying. Hearing it on repeat inside his mind, so faraway like a shout in space and yet so close, looming over their heads…

Her head. He was terrified.

The demigod feared both for her safety and for his heart, if what he had in his chest could still be described as such; Hayley always said -used to, at least: he no longer spent enough time with her as of late to enjoy a proper conversation- he had a heart of gold under his crusty exterior, but he never believed it…

As if to prove him wrong, the withered shred in his chest that once was a muscle began beating again, just for her. It began to beat for the amazing smiles she gave him, for the intensity in her chocolate eyes as she held his gaze, for the warmth he felt whenever he was next to her…

For the feeling of being loved for who he was, something that he had been denied for so long.

Now… Now he’d have to make her hate someone that wasn’t him.

He had to make her hate him, so she would leave.

Truth be told he was surprised she hadn’t already, given how badly he treated her. At first it had been heavenly, finally feeling something again, and something that was not pain. Then…

As time went by, it all spoiled; it began to hurt, badly.

The growing awareness of what he felt for her.

The rising fear for her safety.

The spiralling pain that she felt, and how it took him less and less effort to perceive it; it simply radiated from her.

He felt like a monster for putting her in danger, for making her suffer so much, and he wanted to kick himself for it all, for falling for her in the first place.

He thought back to the day he first met her and cursed himself for being so stupid; he should have never taken her with him. It was supposed to be a little fun, only that.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He felt even more selfish for that, but Hayley was the best thing that happened to him in a long time; one of the best things that ever happened to him in his entire life, he’d bet.

He knew that, without Hayley, everything would be a thousand times worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of her- not more than he already was, his subconscious reprimanded.

The thought of blaming her, of being angry because he could no longer think only of himself did not even cross his mind.

Who was his master, the Other or his love for Hayley? Yes, his feelings were beginning to be more of a torture than something to sustain him through the pain.

The trickster gritted his teeth, adjusting his hair to the best of his abilities. The sight of her door made his stomach flinch, and only a titanic effort saved him from retreat. He could have sworn he heard a voice in his ears, saying something about how she must mean much to him, if he was willing to put her needs before his.

A shudder ran down his spine; it wasn’t a voice but rather his own thoughts, that sounded more and more like the Other’s hissing each passing day.

No, he decided; what he felt for the feisty brunette was the only remaining beacon of light in his existence, and he had to protect it. Holding on to that conviction, the black-haired deity stepped inside the room without even knocking, taking on the coldest and most forbidding mask he could.

It proved to be a difficult task : the sight of the woman lying on his bed in a silver robe, snuggled against his pillow while she read a book almost did him in.

He harrumphed, effectively distracting her from the scribbles

<<Loki>> She called unenthusiastically, unawarely delivering a fatal blow to his already weak resistance. It was working: they were drifting apart.

Was it good or bad?

Not selfishness, but his anguish clung to the spunky female in desperation. Luckily, he was able to use that as a push in the right direction

<<Are you surprised to see me?>>

<<As a matter of fact I am>> She sighed, slamming the tome closed with a dull thud <<This visit is out of the normal schedule>>

<<You should no better than to question me>>

<<I stopped trying to understand a long time ago>> She shrugged.

He did not know how much of a lie that was, so the hurt he felt was real. Years of experience helped him turn it into anger.

With a grunt he stepped closer to her, yanking her against his chest before he slammed his lips against her. The woman basically melted in his embrace.

It made him think that maybe, just maybe, she liked him too.

That would be a huge problem.

But no, wait, his brain pointed out: if she felt for him even a fraction of what he felt for her, she would be fighting more.

More anger.

Yet, he did not manage to hate her. Not for making him love her nor for making him doubt everything he was.

He needed her, and the thought that he had to let her go tore him apart.

But he’d never let her know that.

He had one last time to enjoy her company, to try to make her understand what she was for him without actually telling her out loud. The rational part of him hoped she would not understand, never, but his heart screamed for her to help him, prayed that she would see right through his facade and help the soul that was withering inside. She did, a little, with her affection, but he needed more than that.

And he was forsaking any chance he had to ever obtain it.

_________________________________________________________

It happened a few hours later, when Hayley woke up a little too early for him to be gone. He could have used his powers, but weakness was taking over him and he chose not to.

Thus, the beautiful brunette caught him exactly when he was about to finish getting dressed; her reaction was everything he hoped for and nothing that he needed

<<So this is it, then>> She groused, glaring at him in the mirror he was looking himself into <<I do not even have the dignity of a whore>>

<<You have bed and board; what do you want more?>>

<<Things you do not understand, apparently>> The woman hissed, reaching for her robe and swiftly wrapping it around herself <<I won’t even try to make you>>

<<That’s surprisingly wise of you>>

<<Unlike anything else I’ve been doing lately>>

<<I’ll have you know I’ve been often called wise, and clever>>

<<Sneaky and mischievous more likely>> She hissed again

I wish you’d see who I really am

<<I am the god of mischief, after all>>

<<Yes, the god of lies. Apparently one of the tasks that come with this title is to make innocent people believe in absurdities>>

<<Oh, I wouldn’t call you innocent, darling>>

Hayley grinned sardonically, snorting uncouthly

<<You’re right, I’m not>>

<<And it’s exactly because of me>> The demigod mocked her.

She grew angry

<<You’re right again. You took everything from me: my innocence, my life, my h->> She suddenly trailed off, and he froze.

Was she about to say heart? Do I want her to say heart?

No. I could not let her go if she loved me

<<My home>> She finished and he sighed in relief, but the nagging voice inside his mind told him it was not what she really meant.

He chose to ignore it as best as he could

<<You can leave, if you don’t want to be here>>

The atmosphere stilled suddenly.

Hayley was frozen, trying to find another meaning to the harsh words he’d just uttered.

Loki felt the deep pangs of guilt, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. He asked himself why she couldn’t see through his lies, and he was reminded that she was, after all, a human, with no magical power.

It was ironic, terribly so, how being a frail human being brought her safety, while his supernatural nature signified his death, yet there they were

<<You brought me here>>

<<I have no need for you that I can’t satisfy with someone else>> Another huge lie that sounded so terribly convincing falling from his lips <<You are nothing more than a concubine, easily replaced>>

I didn’t know my powers included feeling true pain

Apparently they did, because as soon as he’d hissed those false insults a wave of agony washed over him; was it his or hers? He did not know anymore

Please, make her hate me. I won’t be able to let he go if there is even a small chance that she may feel something other than hatred for me

His plan seemed to be working. The glare in Hayley’s eyes grew more threatening than he’d ever expected from her, far more intimidating that he would have given her credit for

<<Fine. Since I’m so unwanted here, I will leave>>

<<I won’t be taking you back, darling>>

No, he wouldn’t. Not just because he couldn’t -given his “pact” with the Other and so on, but also because a small part of him was still calling out to her.

The brunette shrugged, glaring at him fiercely. The determination that oozed from her was impressive

<<I do not need you, I never have>>

He snorted

<<I’m looking forward to see how you’ll be able to escape>>

_________________________________________________________

He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a challenge, but she apparently took it as such. During one of the experiments he and his soldiers, so to say, were conducting with the Tesseract to create a portal to the Earth, she somehow snuck up on them and ran through the passage before anyone could stop her, fighting off a few guards in the process.

Loki silently cried out in relief: she was free; she would be safe.

His heart, instead, cried out in pain

She’ll never want to speak to me, to be close to me… I’ll never see her again

[v0n-butch]

rich boy boredom

Steve Harrington x fem reader

“Could you do a billy or Steve imagine? It’s my 21st today and I feel really homesick and alone (I’m on the other side of the country at uni) and idk I feel like I can’t talk to my housemates so I’m projecting onto fictional characters” requested by anonymous.

word count: 1,922

warning(s): swearing, shoplifting, vandalism (up to no good basically)

a/n: happy late birthday lovely ! birthdays can be a bummer for me too tbh :/ and yes projecting onto characters is valid♥️

—

Steve got a free ride up to some fancy ass university across the country, room and board payed for by absent parents, got everything he could ever really want or need. And it was great. He’ll tell you that to your face, maybe even sprinkle some “I’m so grateful for this opportunity” bullshit into his speech, too. But what he won’t tell you is that being a spoiled child can get fucking dull. God forbid he ever voice these feelings out loud in fear of looking like another useless wealthy white guy that has the audacity to complain about something when he could have everything he could ever want and then some. But it got lonely and dangerously boring. And when Steve was bored whenever his folks weren’t around, he always got the itch to fuck something up just to feel anything other than the tasteless boredom.

Since the boy lost his title in high school and now embraced his new dorky guy status (wearing sweaters, even needing glasses for fuck’s sake) girls have either ignored him or friend zoned him. And yeah, having friends that are only chicks is great and all, but now everybody just thinks he’s a gay rich brat that shouldn’t complain about not picking up a date when he could afford a yacht if he simply felt like it. At least everyone who gave him the stink eye had parents at home that payed attention and cared for their well being.

The only girl (or just person in general) in any of his classes that didn’t treat him that way or roll their eyes if he tried to ask a question in class was Y/N. She was smart, he could tell that by peeking at her test scores whenever they got their exams handed back to correct. Pretty, too. Same innocence as his high school heartbreaker Nancy has. Steve isn’t sure if that’s his subconscious type he’s into or if it’s just coincidences. He’d make a move on her if she wasn’t so quiet all the time, he even contemplated if she were deaf or mute or something. The only words he ever heard her speak were ‘here’ for role call at the start of class. Her shy nature was a little intimidating, he didn’t know what she thought about him or anybody else at all. She was sorta mysterious like that, but damn if he didn’t try at least giving her a heads up that she could talk to him if she wanted.

Now was his chance, he’s had at least a hundred chances so far because they’ve shared this class for months now, but still. Steve has to really hype himself up and mentally give a pep talk about what he was gonna say, how he was gonna say it. Y/N was wearing her regular cozy sweater, baggy jeans and ruffled hair as usual. She looked cute everyday, but today he couldn’t help but think she was extra cute. Steve saw her sit down in her usual spot, taking out her notes and book from her bag and patiently waiting for the professor to start.

“Uh, your name’s Y/N right?” Steve asks. Fucking great start, jackass. Of course he knows her name already. She whips her head around in surprise that somebody actually acknowledged her presence and nodded, still unsure of what to say back to the boy. “I’m Steve. If you didn’t already like, know that or whatever. Sorry. But maybe when class is done, do you wanna hang out and do something? Go somewhere? If you’re not busy,” he finally gets out, begging the heavens that he doesn’t sound too creepy and scare her off from him for good. She still stares at him blankly then snaps out of whatever trance she had been in, and talks. He didn’t ever hear what her voice sounded like before.

“I know your name’s Steve.” she replies.

That’s it? That’s all you have to say?

“Yeah. That’s me. So about that—“

“Sure. I’ll go with you. Could use some excitement today especially,” she shrugs then turns around as the professor enters and walks to the front, announcing to the class what they’re gonna be doing today.

“What’s today?” he whispers, but gets rudely interrupted by the professor’s request for the class to quiet down and gives his lecture.

—

Class was annoying as fuck as per usual, but staring at the back of Y/N’s head was the only thing he really liked. Steve wouldn’t dare say that out loud, but it was true. Finally the professor dismissed all of the students to leave, and Steve was quick to pack up his shit and hang out with the girl. Y/N took her time as opposed to Steve, and he went up to her seat to ask what she wanted to do, where she wanted to go.

“Surprise me,” she answers with a smile. The boy returns it and offers to carry her bag for her, not taking no for an answer.

“Okay. I will, let’s do it,” he pumps his fist in the air and briefly regrets showing enthusiasm but it’s okay because she gives him a laugh, and he likes the sound of it. He likes it a lot, honestly.

Back to Steve’s boredom and stupidity, the combination often leads him into trouble. But Y/N was along for the ride, seeming happy that someone was actually spending time with her. She kept telling him about how afraid she was that today specifically would be another stale, boring day. Whenever the boy asked what today meant, but she shrugged it off and changed the subject to something else. She wanted to talk about him, but he was begging to know more about her. She talked about she feels invisible most days, how nobody really recognizes her existence but Steve sees her. He knows she exists, and he likes that she’s here spending time with him.

“Wanna do something stupid?” Steve asks, eyeing the drugstore that was across the street and how no one seemed to be working there tonight.

“How stupid are we going for, exactly?” She laughs. There’s that laughter again. Steve relishes in the feeling of his heartbeat getting quicker, and grabs her hand to cross the road.

“Like, really fucking stupid, honestly.” He answers as he tells her to keep her head down, both of them staying low as Steve conducts a plan. “What do you want right now? Anything. Could be anything, go crazy.” She looks at him and still has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Um, I don’t know. A redbull I guess?” She answers. Steve smirks at her.

“One redbull coming up. Anything else? C’mon, you could do better than that Y/N,” he playfully pushes her shoulder, encouraging her to speak up about what else.

“Okay, okay! Fine, Steve. Jesus. I really want a cake, too,” she says.

“Cake and redbull. Gotcha, stay out here and wait for my signal,” he whispers, patting her back and entering the store without another word. Y/N doesn’t even know what “signal” he’s talking about. Moments later, Steve emerges from the store in a panic, screaming “RUN” at Y/N with spray paint, her redbull, and a cake stuffed in his coat.

“What the fuck, Steve!” She races after the boy and they don’t stop until they’re in behind a secluded building with brick walls surrounding them. Steve is out of breath, and Y/N is catching hers still before she snorts a giggle and holds onto Steve and her stomach, hurting from laughing so hard. The adrenaline they’re both high on is fueling their energy, making them incapable of stopping their fun. Steve carelessly throws the plastic lid off of the cake and remembers that he never grabbed forks for them.

Y/N takes the redbull and cracks it open, chugging some then handing it over to Steve, who takes it and gulps some too.

“You should see the way your hair bounces up and down when you run,” she giggles at him then runs her fingers through it, making Steve blush but not move, not wanting her to stop. Y/N gestures to the spray cans he also stole. “What’re these for?”

“Oh, you’ve never heard of these? It’s like paint, but you spray it, and —“

“No, dumbass! Why’d you take those too? They weren’t on the list,” you interject.

“Ohhhh, right. So like, we could draw or write whatever we want here,” Steve answers simply, taking the can of green paint and spraying your name on the brick wall in front. When he’s finished, he grabs a handful of the cake and shoves it in his mouth and moans at the creamy, sugary fluffiness.

“That is some good shit right there,” he points to the vanilla frosting covered dessert with his messy hand before going to spray more designs on the wall.

“You’re crazy, man.”

“Yeah. No I’m really not, I think I’m just bored. Tired of getting everything I want handed to me. It doesn’t feel like I earned any of it,” his tone switches to something a bit more sad, dropping the can of spray and taking another bite before offering you some cake.

“Eh, sure. What the hell, right?” You shrug, taking the giant bite he fed to you and not caring that some bits of cake land on your sweater. Steve apologizes but you wave it off, it’s just a stupid sweater.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight,” Steve murmurs, scooting closer to you before you get up and ignore his protests of wanting you to sit back down with him. You take the red spray paint and start marking up the wall, decorating it with hearts and stars. “Y’know, you never told me what today is,” he gazes up at you before shoveling more cake into his palm and feeding it to you. You eat all of it up then laugh but it doesn’t sound like it’s out of a joke, but something else.

“Today’s my twenty-first birthday,” Y/N answered before going back to the task of vandalizing the brick.

“Shit. Happy birthday, Y/N,” Steve smiles when he stands up, watching you in a daze like he’s never seen anyone look more beautiful than you do right now, cake on your shirt and chin be damned. “Should’ve stolen a six pack of beer too while I was at it.”

“My family forgot. Nobody in class even cared either,” you stared down at the ground in embarrassment, knowing that this rich boy from Indiana couldn’t possibly understand what with his money and his popularity. Steve tilts your chin up with his clean fingers then leans in, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss before pulling back.

“I’m still twenty, my birthday’s not till next September. You’re pretty lucky I like older women,” Steve whispers and before you can laugh at that he’s going in for a better one, kissing the hell out of your soft lips and cupping your cheek. Even with the cake all over his fingers, you’ve never felt this seen before, like anybody really noticed you like Steve did in this moment, on this day.

“You should be thankful I like younger men, too. And what’s the deal with the stealing? Pretty sure you can afford an energy drink, some spray paint and a cake,” you say, petting his hair again and making him purr at the stimulating feeling.

“I just got bored.”

[saveyourblood]

Stolen Dance | Part 8

Summary: “Maybe this was a pipe dream, a delusion you’d soon awake from or a phase you’d outgrow. You didn’t really care. For a brief moment in time, you were in love. That’s what you chose to care about. That what you made matter.”

The one where you’re a paramedic, he’s an FBI agent, and the time you spend together is borrowed.

Word Count: 4.8k

Song: Moving On - Kodaline

Warnings: a few parts of this chapter (mostly, a single scene) are pretty disturbing. It's nothing worse than what is mentioned in Criminal Minds, but it's graphic. If it gets to be too much for you, skip to this: *** (the scene will also start with this symbol if you want to skip it altogether). Take care of yourself <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

_____________________

Syria, 2014

“Are all girls from Colorado this rough, or is it just you?”

“Shut up, Austin.”

Austin laughed.

It was weird — soldiers buzzed around you like bees in a hive, but whenever you and Austin got the chance to talk, it was like you and him were the only people in the room. You just wished you could talk to him under better circumstances.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Austin continued. “The last guy you treated walked out of here looking like Frankenstein.”

“Without me, he would’ve been rolled out,” you retorted. You pulled at the sutures tightly, causing him to wince.

“Alright, alright,” he ceded with a chuckle, “I get it. But if you mess up my face, my mama will come after you.”

“I would never mess up a handsome face like yours,” you said sweetly as you worked at the cut on his cheekbone. “Why would I ruin a man’s only asset?”

“You wound me, Y/N,” Austin said, setting a hand over his heart. “You wound me to my core.” 

You snorted, laying a bandage over the sutures. You patted his shoulder. “You’re good to go, soldier.” 

Austin stood up from the gurney, grabbing his button-down digital camo shirt. He draped it over his arm, which you swore was the width of your head. As if that wasn’t enough, he towered over you: he was at least 6’4, and built like a tank. You once said he was the Army’s wet dream. You got a good laugh out of that remark.

Austin bowed slightly and tipped an imaginary hat. “Thank you, m’lady,” he said, accentuating his preexisting southern drawl. 

You shoved his shoulder with a smile. “Get out of here, Crow.”

He smiled, his white teeth contrasting his dark hair. “See you around, Y/L/N.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you replied. 

“What, you don’t want to look at this pretty face?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Not really, no,” you laughed. You cleared your throat. “Seriously, Austin: Don’t be a hero.” 

He nodded, respecting your change of tone. “Yes ma’am,” he agreed, before walking out of the triage tent and right back into danger.

You sighed, picking up and putting away your equipment.

Some days, you wished more than anything else that the two of you met under different circumstances. You wished he moved to Colorado with his family when he was a teenager, or that the two of you met in a small cafe in a big city. Hell, you’d even be okay if you met during Basic Training, the two of you fell in love, and he worked on a local reserve while you persued a different career. Really, you just wished you hadn’t met while serving in Syria, because no matter how you spinned it, it just wasn’t appropriate. 

Austin was a Staff Sergeant, which technically meant he ranked higher than you. However, the two of you worked in different areas; Austin was a combat soldier, while you were a medic. He fought on the frontline, you mostly worked triage. You took care of men like him. So, even though the Army may not forbid an affair between the two of you, that didn’t mean you thought it was okay. It felt like… corruption, like you were breaking the trust between you and your brothers. You didn’t want anyone for a single second to feel like they were less important to you.

So, you pushed your feelings aside. You savored the moments you spent with Austin, but you didn’t push it. You didn’t seek him out, you didn’t play favorites. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, but said time was brief, as it should be. 

You sighed again. He was a charming Texas boy with a heart of gold. How could a person not fall in love with him? 

“The longer this goes on, the worse it gets.”

You and Austin watched a new batch of soldiers go through training. They were already deemed fit for combat, so the next few weeks would be spent teaching them the ins-and-outs of living and serving in an active warzone. Today’s lesson? IEDs. 

“I know,” you agreed, voices low as to not distract. “It started as peaceful protests against a President, and now more than half a million people are dead.”

“70 airstrikes later,” Austin said with a sigh. “Sometimes… nevermind.”

“What?” you asked. When he didn’t respond, you nudged his shoulder. “Sing your annoying song, Crow.”

He smirked, but didn’t quite laugh; the sound he made was that of a scoff. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m even doing here.” 

“Me too,” you said softly. 

_____________________

The two of you found some downtime; Austin wouldn’t be heading out with his team until later in the afternoon, and after a busy morning, your tent was hitting a lull. The two of you decided to eat lunch together in an empty triage tent lined with gurneys. 

You sat on the ground beside each other, boots sunken into the mix of dirt and sand that made up the ground. Austin sat cross legged, and his knee brushed against your calf as you bounced your foot up and down.

“You gonna use that cheese?” He asked, referring to a silver packet you set on the ground.

“No,” you said, dumping your chicken fajita mix into your cooked rice packet. “Shit’s disgusting.”

Austin picked up the packet and tore it open with his teeth. He spread the fake, overly yellow ‘cheese’ spread onto a weird, fake pork sandwich he was making. The bread looked more like play-doh than bread, and the barbecue sauce he used was almost black. MREs: the epitome of luxury dining.

“That is nasty,” you remarked.

“Sometimes, you gotta take what you can get,” Austin said. He picked up a packet of clam chowder that had been heating up in its bag for awhile. He opened it and stirred it around before taking a spoonful and plopping it right on over the cheese spread. He finally closed the sandwich and took a massive bite.

“I’m gonna gag,” you stated bluntly. 

He frowned. “Why?” he asked through a mouthful of food.

“That is vile, Austin,” you said. “You just put clam chowder on a sandwich! With barbecue sauce and cheese! That’s so gross!”

He offered you the sandwich. “Wanna bite?” 

You tucked your chin against your chest and leaned back, shaking your head. “Get that away from me.” 

_____________________

To say the night was busy would be more than an understatement; 4 men from the same troop were rushed to triage, all with similar injuries caused by IEDs. One of the men ultimately ended up a double amputee, one leg blown off above the kneecap and the other being so damaged that most of the calf had to be removed. Somehow, a man from the same troop ended up with only minor lacerations. War was strange that way; you step on an IED the ‘right’ way, and it’s something you can walk away from. If you don’t, you could die.

“Alright everyone, we have 6 more soldiers coming in!” Your Lieutenant Colonel shouted. “All non-emergent patients should be transferred. Let’s hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

You helped ‘reset’ a few stations, making sure they were clean and ready. When the men still hadn’t arrived, you approached Colonel Todd.

“Colonel,” you asked, catching her attention. “What else do you know?”

“Best guess? Task Force 221,” she replied, signing a few papers when someone handed her a clipboard. “Crow and his boys were out patrolling, Folks don’t take too kindly to soldiers around here.”

Your heart sank.

The men from Task Force 221 came in at the same time, and they were loaded out of the truck and onto gurneys one by one. You got assigned to the first person, which happened to be Austin himself.

“Go, help them,” Austin protested, already trying to get off the gurney. “I’m okay, just help my boys!”

You pushed him down by his chest as you and two other people rolled him inside. 

“Can I get a dose of Lidocaine, please?” you instructed, cutting away Austin’s already torn pants. So far, you saw two GSWs: one to the left lower leg, and one to the right calf. You adjusted the light above you to get a better look. “Make it two doses.” 

“I’m fine,” Austin pushed, once again trying to stand up.

“Austin Crow, I swear to god, I will tie you down if I have to,” you threatened. “You’re not fine — you’ve been shot. Sometimes, to take care of your team, you have to take care of yourself first.”

He laid back with a sigh.

Three hours passed before you could properly speak to Austin. After pulling the bullets from both his legs, you ran around trying to help people wherever and however you could. Eventually, you found the sweet spot where no one was critical but everyone was still busy. You managed to slip away and pull the curtains around Austin’s bed.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” you hissed under your breath.

“...What?”

“I heard what you did,” you said. “Your lieutenants were more than happy to tell me exactly how you got shot.” 

“By doing my job?” Austin asked. 

“You put yourself in the line of fire!” you argued. “You ran right into danger!”

“To help someone,” he explained calmly. “No man gets left behind, Y/N. You know that.” 

“You could have died!” you said between clenched teeth. You were trying to keep your voice down, but his apathy was driving you crazy. “God, what is it with you? The same day I take out your stitches, you come in with two gunshot wounds. What’s next, Austin? You want me to plan your funeral? Write to your parents, tell them how you died a hero?” 

“Why are you so pissed at me?” Austin asked. He seemed more confused than angry.

The words fell out before you could stop them. “Because I love you!” 

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You laughed bitterly. 

“There,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Cat’s out of the bag.” You sighed, setting your hand down and looking him in the eye. “I think… I’m in  love with you, and I don’t want to see you dead.”

Silence fell. Austin looked away, looked back to you, looked away again, and clenched his jaw. You crossed your arms in self-defense, heart pounding as you waited for him to say something, anything.

Austin scooted over, then patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

You approached the bed, slowly and carefully sliding next to him. It was almost too small for Austin by himself, let alone with another person, so your weight ended up mostly on him. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

Austin’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to his body. He buried his face in your hair, taking a long breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll do better. I promise.” 

_____________________

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

You were only covering for someone, a temporary replacement until a new combat medic was hired. Austin was hesitant; he wasn’t sure if you were cut out for the job. You assured him you’d be fine, that you went through the same training everyone else did, and that it wasn’t permanent.

You were an amazing combat medic. You tied every tourniquet tight, you took care of men until they could be shipped off the triage. The Colonel in charge of Task Force 221 commended you, said you could be a real fit for the field. 

Austin didn’t agree. The two of you had been secretly dating for about a month, and it was the first real fight the you got into. You said you were seriously considering accepting a job as a combat medic, and Austin disagreed. You could tell this fight wouldn’t be like the last one — you weren’t about to kiss him and tell him everything would be alright.

“What, only you get to do the dirty work?” you asked. “Only you get make some real change?”

“This isn’t about glory, Y/N,” Austin sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. “It’s about keeping you alive.”

“Now you know how I feel!” you argued, laughing at the irony. “It’s scary, isn’t it, Austin?! You want more than anything to pull me off of the battlefield, put me somewhere in this godforsaken country were I can be at least somewhat safe?!”

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

“I’m gonna take that job,” you stated, “and I’m only quitting when you do.” 

Now, you were here, in a place you didn’t know, but you knew you didn’t like.

“Y/N?” you heard someone call weakly.

“Austin?!” you said, trying your hardest not to burst into tears. You couldn’t see anything, so hearing his voice was a massive relief. 

Your memory came back in pieces: you saw Austin walk ahead to secure the area, but he ended up stepping on and IED. Without even thinking, you ran ahead, despite the yells and other protests of the men beside you. 

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, looking him up and down.  It took everything in you not to gag or faint.

He stepped right on the edge of the IED, meaning his left leg was blown off to right below the kneecap.  The exposed muscle was shredded, and his bone stuck out like a morbid fence post.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you promised, taking out your tourniquet. Just like you had been instructed what felt like decades ago, you pulled it as tight as you physically could to stop any more blood loss. 

Austin moaned in pain and mumbled a few words you couldn’t understand. When you looked up to call for help, the butt of a gun connected with the back of your head, effectively knocking you out. 

You woke up here.

“It was a trap,” Austin said, voice rough and quiet. 

“We’re gonna get out of here, okay?” you promised. “Half of the fucking Army is probably looking for us right now.”

After what felt like hours, someone came in to remove your blindfold. You could finally get a good look at Austin, and it made your heart pound in your ears. He didn’t look good. Things would get ugly if he didn’t get proper medical attention soon. 

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you,” you said immediately. “Just let me help him.”

A man dressed in all black began to yell at you in Arabic. You could only make out a few words — work, plan, and money. He paused, most likely to give you time to answer. When you didn’t, he punched you across the face.

“No,” Austin said weakly. “Stop it.”

You spat some blood onto the floor, your entire head throbbing. “Don’t worry,” you said, then looked to your attack. “I can take it.” 

_____________________

Present Day

“They didn’t get anything out of me by punching,” you said, staring at the light above your bed. You sounded detached, like you were talking about a movie you watched rather than recalling the worst day of your life. You supposed that’s how you coped with it — you pretended it wasn’t real, that it never really happened. “Even when they brought in someone who spoke English, I didn’t talk.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You adjusted the bed to a sitting position awhile ago, but you still felt vulnerable.

“You can stop,” Spencer offered, gently taking your hand. It was taped up and gloved, as it was the hand they put an IV in, so his touch was more delicate than usual. 

You shook your head. “I want to tell you everything,” you promised. “It’s just hard to think about. It’s hard to remember.” You took in a breath. “When the punching didn’t work, they moved on to whipping. And when that didn’t work…”

_____________________

***

Syria, 2014

Your back stung and your head throbbed. You hoped that eventually, you’d pass out, but unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Either your pain tolerance was too high, or the breaks they took between the methods of torturing were enough to keep you conscious.

“Get her on the ground,” one man growled. 

You groggily put together that there were three men in the room, all of them equally pissed. They probably thought you’d be easy to crack. 

The fresh wounds on your back hurt even more when they connected with the dirt; you could practically feel the infection in your skin forming. You gritted your teeth, barely able to refrain from making noise. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, someone began to pull down your pants. In that very moment, you prayed for a heart attack, for your body to give out completely. This, on top of everything else? You wouldn’t be able to take it.

“That’s enough!” Austin shouted, so loud that it practically shook the walls. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just get the hell away from her.” 

Austin gave up the location of the base, as well as other details they wanted, like what patrols and other missions had been scheduled. Apparently, all they wanted was to get the upper hand, strike before Austin or anyone else’s task force could. It made you wonder what they did when information was time-sensitive.

They slammed the heavy door behind them, and immediately, you burst into tears. You rolled onto your side and curled into a ball, shirt in shreds from the whipping. You stayed in that position for so long that your arm and legs fell asleep, but you didn’t really care. You wanted to feel nothing right about now.

“Y/N,” Austin called, for what was probably the millionth time. You tuned out everything around you, only the sound of static filling your ears.

You sat up lifelessly, a blank stare on your face.

“Come here,” he said.

You crawled over to Austin, your concern for him trumping both the physical and mental pain you were in. It had only been a few hours at most, but he already looked worse. His face was pale, lips dry, and despite the tourniquet, he seemed to have lost quite a bit of blood. 

“What do you need?” you asked. 

“Can you take off my shirt?” He asked.

It was a weird request, but you obliged. You lifted up the hem of his shirt, and carefully, you pulled it above his head. You managed to get it off without having to lift his arms too high.

“Put it on,” Austin instructed.

You smiled through a few new tears. 

It was damp with sweat, meaning it was entirely sanitary, but more than anything, you appreciated the sentiment. You slid it over your head, slipping your arms through each hole. Unsurprisingly, it was massive on you — the sleeves were technically short, but they almost hit your elbow. 

“Sit by me,” he said, tilting his head to the empty space beside him. 

You did as you were told, careful not to lean back and inflict more pain.

“Closer.”

You laughed, wiping your nose as tears streamed down your face. You scooted closer to him, lifting one of his arms and slinging it around your shoulders. You curled into his chest, and despite the sweltering heat, you found comfort in his warmth. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Austin asked, voice raspy.

You looked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you too.”

It didn’t occur to you, but ‘love’ hadn’t come out of either of your mouths since the night you first admitted it. You spent countless hours in each other’s presence, but it hadn’t come up. You didn’t Austin to say a word in order to prove how much he cared about you — he showed it. It was implied.

And now, it was over.

_____________________

***

Present Day

“It took them 18 hours to find us,” you said. A few tears made their way down your cheek. You wiped them and continued on. “I think Austin died halfway through it.” 

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; you thought Spencer was afraid to even breathe. 

“I stayed by his body until someone found us,” you said. “I managed to fall asleep a few times, and every time I woke up, mice were eating his skin. As if his leg being blown off wasn’t bad enough.” you paused. “I think his blood started to spoil. Is that possible? I don’t know. I think the heat was cooking him, though. It didn’t take long for his skin to start rotting.”

Your face contorted, and you stifled a sob. “I wanted to save him, Spencer,” you cried, clutching his hand. “I really did. They just wouldn’t let me.” 

Almost immediately, Spencer joined you on the bed. He pulled you against him, arms tight around you like a barricade. You gripped his shoulders as you cried into his chest.

“None of this is your fault, you hear me?” Spencer said. “None of it is your fault.” 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that. Eventually, you stopped sobbing, but the occasional tear still rolled down your cheek. Spencer held you throughout it all.

Eventually, you felt Spencer lift his head from the pillow. You looked up to see the team standing at the nurses’ station. Any other day, you would have pushed him aside and invited them in. Today, though, you just sniffed and moved closer to him. 

Spencer kissed your hair and continued to hold you close. They’d get the memo.

_____________________

The hospital kept you overnight for observation, but by daylight, you were discharged with a clean bill of health. Sometime during the night, Emily and JJ swung by to drop you off a change of clothes, which you were eternally grateful for. 

Spencer didn’t leave your side the entire night. He waited outside the bathroom when you changed, he held your hand as you took the elevator ride down to the lobby, and he sat in the middle of the backseat on the cab ride home. You stared out the window the entire time, but you kept a hand on his knee. 

As you stared at the multi-colored, almost bare trees, you realized something: life goes on. People were waking up and heading to their 9-5, and their biggest concern was what to make for dinner later that day. Some of them had a violent or traumatic past, just like you did, but that wasn’t how they lived their life. You and everyone else alive did the same thing: you woke up, and you tried your best. Sometimes, that’s all anyone can do. And that’s enough. 

“The rest of the team is going over to Rossi’s tonight; he’s making spaghetti,” Spencer said as the two of you entered the apartment. “We can go, if you want. Or we can stay here all day. We shouldn’t have a case until tomorrow. Even so, I’m sure Hotch would understand if you took some time off.”

“Spencer?” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m okay,” you promised. “Everything I told you is something I’ve been reliving for the past 2 years. Talking about it didn’t dredge anything up. Actually, if anything, it helped. It’s like… I don’t know, a weight was lifted off of me. I feel like I can start to move on, finally.” 

He smiled faintly. “Good,” he nodded, “I’m glad.” 

You set your arms on his shoulders. “I’d love to go to Rossi’s for dinner,” you said. “But first, I need your help with something.” 

“Anything.” 

You played with your hands. “Ever since I got back, I’ve been thinking of visiting Austin’s family. It took me 6 months to go back to work after what happened — I can’t imagine what it was like for them to lose a child. I thought they needed some time before I brought everything back up. I think I’m ready now. At least, I’m ready if they are.”

“And that’s what you need my help with,” Spencer concluded.

You nodded. “I don’t know how to get in contact with them. Honestly, I was just gonna start by googling them.” 

“Over 45 million members of Generation X use Facebook,” Spencer said. “I think we should start there.” 

_____________________

“I swear, I am never letting you go,” Garcia said as she hugged you. For someone who was normally so soft, in that moment, she could crush all of your bones. 

“Come on, baby girl,” Derek chuckled, “we all get a turn. And Y/N needs to breathe.”

With a pout, Garcia let go of you. JJ, who was standing next to her, extended her arms. You pulled her into a short but sweet hug. Spencer wasn’t joking: this team was a family. 

“We didn’t get to see you in the hospital!” Emily exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around you. 

“I wasn’t there for long,” you said, pulling away. “Besides, I wasn’t really in the mood for visitors. No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

Derek hugged you next. His massive arms wrapped around you, and as you briefly relaxed into his chest, his chin rested on top of your head. A small, warm smile crossed your face. He was like the older brother you never had. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” He asked as the two of you parted. 

Though surprised, you nodded. “Yeah, of course. You wanna step outside for a sec?” 

Derek nodded. 

“Don’t be too long!” Rossi called from the kitchen. “The show’s about to begin!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you promised. 

As you followed Derek onto the porch, you noticed Spencer talking to Hotch. You gave him a small wave, which he returned with a look of confusion. You raised your index finger, a silent way of telling him you’d be just a second.

“What’s up, Derek?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “And I mean really okay, not the ‘okay’ that gets you out of a conversation.” 

You took a few steps, resting your arms on the porch railing. “I think I am,” you said, looking over your shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

Derek moved to stand beside you. He pressed his palms to the smooth wood. “Maybe you didn’t see us at the hospital, but we saw you,” he said. “I’ve never seen someone who was so sad to be alive.” 

“It wasn’t that,” you promised. “I mean, it was for awhile, but not anymore.”

“What’s going on?” Derek pressed, bumping you shoulder with his. “Something’s eating at you. I can tell.” 

“I lost a friend,” you said simply, “when I was in Syria. I watched him die.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, setting a hand over yours. “That’s awful.”

“It was,” you agreed, “and ever since I got back, I’ve been trying to figure out why I’m alive and he isn’t. He had a set of happily married parents and two beautiful sisters to come home to. I’m an only child, and my father was six feet under. He had so many people that cared about him — the only person who would have really missed me was my mom. It didn’t seem fair, ya know?”

He nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know.” 

Derek shifted his footing. You nudged his shoulder.

“Something’s eating at you: I can tell,” you joked.

He chuckled softly. “Fair enough.” He paused. “I watched my dad die. One day, he picked me up early from school. I asked him if we could go to the convenience store. When we got inside, there was a woman being robbed.  My dad was a cop, so he stepped in,  hoping he could diffuse the situation. The robber shot him.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “How old were you?”

“10,” Derek answered. “It took me a long time to move on; I was lost without my father. I thought if  I had toughed it out until the bell rang, maybe my dad would still be alive. The older I got, though, the more I realized that it didn’t matter. What matters is what I do about it. So, I shaped up. I started solving problems instead of creating them. Maybe I’m biased, but I like to think I did an okay job.”

“You did an amazing job,” you said with a smile. “You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. Your father would be proud of you.”

“So would yours,” Derek returned. He slung an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss the top of your head. 

_____________________

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[a-walkingoxymoron]

Mistletoe

Word count: 3.8k

Pairing: Jackson X Reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: This is late, I know. I also didn’t expect it to go on this long, I swear - but hey, it’s still December so. I saw the prompt when I happened upon a prompt list by @/drink-it-write-it and happened to think of this. I’d like to apologize in advance as the story’s all over the place, I think. Anyway, enjoy!

The prompt is “Alright, mister. I know you’re the one who keeps hanging mistletoe everywhere”

It was Christmas Eve and, as usual, Bambam was hosting a party to celebrate the occasion. After all any occasion he gets a whiff of is an excuse to party to him. Hell, if he puts his mind to it, you were pretty sure that he could host a celebration for everything that he can think of. That's what happens if you mix an extrovert, raw adoration of anything alcoholic, and a young person in college who had money to burn into one individual - you'd get Bambam. And while he does sound like a perfect recipe to be someone who's conceited and a brat, Bambam was actually not like that at all. He was naive in some practices of the middle class but nothing too major.

Another thing to note is Bambam and you were very close to the point that you couldn't deny your presence in his party completely lest you want to be at the receiving end of his sulking and accusations of not loving him anymore, that you were ready to end the friendship you two had worked hard together to form. You learned soon enough that it was far better to attend than to deal with that kind of guilt trip. You won't even begin how he was hungover while doing all that - how he forgets everything he does when drinking and shitfaced but god forbid he forgets if you were there or not.

That's why you were here at this very moment, being nothing short of a wallflower, observing the other goers. Bambam's other friends that you got to know over the years from hanging around him were polite enough to strike conversation when they spot you, even offering to get you a drink when they see your cup almost empty. Jinyoung and Mark, bless their souls, even took the time to drive away people who tried to hit on you once you look visibly uncomfortable - they were also the least troublesome.

Besides the fact that Bambam practically mandates you to attend, you were, as you dub yourself, a one man casualty control unit. Instead of socializing heavily, you spend most of your time going around, especially once everyone had more than a couple of drinks, seeing if there was trouble brewing somewhere and to prevent it before it gets worse.

It was a tiring task. Cleaning major spills in order so no one would slip, stopping Bambam from doing something highly idiotic and dangerous every five to ten minutes; saving Youngjae from being the center of a Bambam-Yugyeom tandem prank that would result in something undoubtedly painful; making sure Yugyeom doesn't slip and break his spine while dancing on top of whatever his long legs can climb then making sure his feet were on even ground before you leave him to check on others; coming to a poor, clueless party go-er's aid once Jackson prey's on them to be the one he mercilessly shoves into the pool unceremoniously; even Jaebeom didn't made your life easier when the alcohol gets hold of his temper and begins to aggressively pick fights with people who disagree with any of his opinion including what potato chips he thinks is the best. 

Right now, however, Jackson was at the top of your naughty list and the party has barely even started. Before the event began, there was a count of one mistletoe inside the whole house. You know this as you were the one who suggested where to put it up when you were helping Bambam set up, relenting to his whines in regards of how a Christmas Eve party isn't a Christmas Eve party without a mistletoe. And you made sure to ingrain the location of that mistletoe - singular - in your mind to avoid it as much as possible.

Now, two hours into the party and there were, at the very least, seven fucking mistletoe around the whole house excluding the five you already gotten rid off moments ago. As expected, no one but you was on the hunt for the mistletoe hanging culprit. You know it wasn't Bambam, that much you were sure of despite the fact that he told you to let it go.

How could you, though? It was hard enough to avoid being underneath one mistletoe with someone in a full house, harrowing when faced with several. Every direction you face, you somehow spot another victim of the mistletoe that materialize from who knows where and they ended up either having a full blown make out, a chaste kiss or being painfully awkward with each other.

Yet you just couldn't figure out who was the asshole who kept repeatedly hanging the dreaded plant. It was only when Mark spotted you with another 3 in your hands with a burnt out expression that no one should ever bear in a party as fun as Bamabam threw. His eyes softened, lips pulling into a pitiful smile as he approached you apprehensively in case a mistletoe was waiting to be discovered overhead. Once close enough, he nudged you gently before mouthing the word 'Jackson' without so much of an explanation.

But you didn't need an explanation. It all made sense. You haven't seen him, hadn't heard his booming laughter - you didn't even spot him by the pool where he usually stays to pick on an unsuspecting fool. Not even a shriek of excitement about a pair falling victim to the mistletoe tradition. You felt stupid. How could you not realize it by yourself.

Thanking Mark, you set off to hunt the bastard. You immediate went upstairs, knowing that the second floor was off limits to everyone that wasn't you, Bambam, Jaebeom, Mark, Jinyoung, Youngjae, Yugyeom and fucking Jackson.

True enough, you saw the source of your distress in the form of Jackson squatting down on another dozen batch of mistletoe - where did he eve get all of that - with his back behind you. He was inside Bambam's spare room where he kept clutter of unused objects he refused to throw away which is why you didn't see him two hours ago despite repeatedly going up and down the stairs.

"Alright mister. I know you're the one who keeps hanging mistletoe everywhere." You said aloud as a way to announce your presence. He turned around, wide eyed at first before standing up straight to his full height and flashing you his million dollar smile.

Ah, Jackson. Bambam's friend from high school. You didn't notice him back then unless you were the center of his jokes or pranks but he did age like fine wine. Jackson who had the face and body of a God yet the mind of a 12 year old.

"Oops," He chuckled nervously.

"Oops is right. What do you think you keep doing? Why do you keep hanging those?!" You gestured to his ammo of plants to hang, glaring at them with distaste having dealt with one too many of them already. It was a miracle you haven't fell victim to it yet.

"For holiday spirit?"

"Try again."

He walked over to you, laughing as he swung an arm to rest around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him until he was basically squeezing you to his side while his free hand gestured to the air slowly as if making you see the bigger picture of whatever weird scheme he came up with. 

"Imagine being in a party then you get stuck with someone under the mistletoe. You two kiss. Fireworks fly, they feel the spark and BAM you're in love!" Jackson pulled away after the ridiculous speech he dared call an explanation before grinning at you like a puppy.

"A Christmas Miracle!" He finished excitedly, matching it with loud hand movement. "Don't you want to be a part of the reason why that miracle happened?!"

You stared at him incredulously, taking a step closer and sniffing near his mouth. Not drunk - apparently he was too busy with his plan to even drink. "Are you high? Just how many Hallmark movies did you even watch to concoct something like this?"

But this is Jackson. You have to face the fact that it would only take one movie like that to make him elicit this kind of response. This was one of the times you thanked his personality, not that it wasn't loveable. It is. He was thoughtful and loyal to those he cared about but he was childish - too childish. If only he had an ounce of maturity in his bones then you were sure to catch feelings with a face like that. 

For a moment you remembered when you first saw Jackson in college. It was only months since you last saw him then but he apparently went to a crash course with puberty and came back looking manly, all trace of his boyish features gone. He had been working out too, being more fit since the last time. And then he opened his mouth only to reveal he was still the same old high school Jackson you had a puppy crush on in a mature body. And a puppy crush was all it would be. Like you, Jackson is one of Bambam's best friends and having any sort of feelings for him - or any one of them - would be a mess that was just waiting to blow.

You snapped from your thoughts at the sound of Jackson whining your name in an attempt to get your attention.

"Can I please hang more? Please, please, please." He stopped under the scrutiny of your weary gaze. He knew that look. That was the look of yours when you were ready to offer a compromise that should satisfy you both. A trick that was essential for you to learn from dealing with Bambam so much.

"You will not be hanging anymore mistletoe."

"But -"

"Shush! I'm not done speaking yet." Jackson shut his mouth immediately. How you were like this with them but required the aid of Jinyoung and Mark when chasing away unwanted advances was always a mystery to him.

"Again. No more mistletoe. But there are four more downstairs and I will not take anymore of them down for the sake of your Christmas Miracle." His face brightened, obviously pleased with the proposition. He let out that little giddy squeal he did whenever he was excited and pulled you to his chest to wrap his arms around you in a grateful hug.

When he pulled you away in arms length, you looked up only for you breath to hitch when your eyes met his. You weren't sure if it was because of the distance, or lack thereof, between you two but his eyes that you always did recognize as pretty were, in fact, beautiful and breathtaking if you let it blindside you - the twinkle of excitement only made it more entrancing as well.

You will yourself to look away and let out a laugh that hopefully doesn't sound so forced than it felt. "Alright, alright. Now let's go down, see how your genius plan unfolds and get you some alcohol in your system."

Pulling away completely from his grasp, you gestured to the party still on going downstairs which sounded much wilder than you previously remember when you were still on a haunt for Jackson. God, you can just imagine what kind of mess you need to look out for.

Still, you managed to flash an encouraging grin to Jackson. "You're too sober for a party that's hosted by Bambam anyway."

______

It was such a basic mistake. 

There you were, underneath a fucking mistletoe, finally falling victim to its grasps. To rub salt to the rather fresh wound, it was the very one that you and Bambam hanged - by the open doorway that separates the kitchen from the lounge. 

You should have known better.

Known better not to walk underneath it with the troublemakers around. Known better to even think for one moment you would leave unscathed from pranks. What's worse was that you can't even blame Jackson as this wasn't even one that he hung.

You looked at your fellow victim that was equally, if not more, annoyed as you. Jinyoung glowered at Yugyeom's direction who was hiding behind Jaebeom while chortling his lungs out. He had shoved Jinyoung in your direction when you were crossing underneath the mistletoe. 

Jinyoung of all people. Yugyeom was either brave or stupid to do so. Either way, it was evident that he was dead to Jinyoung thanks to his little stunt.

"Come here you shit -" Jinyoung almost lunged at Yugyeom if not for Mark that stopped him with a shit eating grin before tutting in a disapproving manner,  "No exceptions, Jinyoung."

Mark was one of the least troublemakers but that doesn't mean he doesn't join in them. Curse him, however, to choose this moment to jump in.

There were cat calls and hoots of encouragement from people witnessing around, chanting 'kiss' repeatedly like it was a mantra.

Jackson, who was now actively participating in the festivities as compared to earlier, rushed to see who the (un)lucky pair this time, only to deflate when he sees you. There was suddenly a sensation in his stomach. It always made itself felt when he saw you but this time it was unpleasant. 

A part of him didn't want to watch the inevitable scene unfold yet he couldn't take his eyes away from you two with bated breath. 

"Come on, Jinyoung. You know the rules." It was Jaebeom who was tossing tinder into the fire this time, an amused smirk on his lips. You could hear the man beside you hissing in annoyance while you were still trying to register what rule Jaebeom was pertaining to.

Ah. A kiss needs to last 7 seconds at the very least. 

Defeated, Jinyoung could only turn to you with an apologetic look in his eyes. You were suddenly all too aware how he was so much taller than you as he hovered over you only to lean down and press his lips on yours gently while both of his hands found its way to either side of your waist to still you.

You let him and, acting on pure instinct, your hands went to the hem of his sweater to tug on it yet you didn't find yourself returning the kiss.

His lips was soft against yours but that was it, there was no malicious feelings behind them. The two of you held your stance until the count was over before pulling away. 

"Was I really such a bad kisser that you didn't even attempt to return it?" He teased, chuckling. You sputtered, his words making you feel more flustered than the kiss did.

"No hard feelings?" Jinyoung asked once he failed to elicit a response from you. He was scared that he offended you. He hoped not, he did like you after all being the only sane one in his group of friends and the only one who he hasn't thought about murdering yet. You nodded as words failed you - what can you even say? But it seemed you needn't say anything as Jinyoung appeared to be satisfied with just that, patting your head affectionately before he left.

_______

There was a little over ten minutes left before Christmas. Which also means that it has been an hour since Jackson retreated upstairs once more but, unlike earlier, his mind was full with the thoughts of you.

Admittedly, he always had a crush on you. He finds you cute. How your eyes brightened when your excited, how your cheeks puff in annoyance like a chipmunk, how adorable you looked when your face was painted with the hues of red when embarrassed, and the next thing he knew, he was smitten with you.

He kept those kind of feelings buried, however. Because, much like you, he didn't want to complicate things. He enjoyed having you around him and the guys, he knows the other felt the same, too. And to be the one who possibly fuck that up, well, he'd rather not risk it. Bambam would never forgive him, as well.

Watching Jinyoung kiss you, despite it being an obligatory gesture to satiate a culture - a culture that he supported wholeheartedly and fixated on the whole night - made him realize how deep his feelings for you truly went.

He just wanted to pry you out of Jinyoung's arms and take you in his instead. But he couldn't - shouldn't. So instead of watching, he opted to go upstairs to sulk. The only consolation to his sullen is the mere fact that you didn't return the kiss.

Would you return it if it was him?

Jackson shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it. Those kind of intrusive thoughts is exactly the reason why he shouldn't be anywhere near you. Who knows what he could do? He wasn't really known for impulse control.

Five minutes before Christmas left.

Everyone downstairs was either counting down or passed out somewhere due to intoxication. You were counting, too, in a way. And you were missing one. The boys were complete by the kitchen except for Jackson. And, oblivious to his dilemma, you decided to look for him so all 8 of you would be together when the clock strikes 12.

Before you can even think about where he could be, your feet lead you upstairs and back to where you had found him earlier. Lo and behold, Jackson was there, seemingly lost in thought as he stared out the window from across the room, his fingers playing with a mistletoe he held absentmindedly. Quietly, you entered the room, calling out his name after closing the door behind you.

"Jackson?"

He turned to face you, blinking owlishly as if trying to process your presence, then a smile graced his lips. Not the bright smile that you have come to adore, not the boyish smile he flashed at everyone, no, this smile was different. There was a pensive sadness behind it that you rarely saw in the human sunshine you knew as Jackson. A smile that made your blood run cold and worry pump to your veins as your brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey," You tried again, your voice soft this time, afraid that anything louder would break him. "It's almost Christmas. We're waiting for you downstairs."

He offered a smile once more and there it was again ; a smile that offered no mirth. It was like a whole other personality possessed Jackson's body altogether. You pressed your lips into a thin line in thought. Never have you expected to become this unnerved just from his silence alone. 

"Are you okay, Jackson?" 

He wasn't. He wanted to say he wasn't.

Why did you have to go and search for him? Why now when his thoughts were a ball of mess he can't seem to untangle - doesn't even know where to start untangling - and feelings raw. There couldn't have been a worse time for you to barge in him tonight. Yet here you were, eyes large with curiosity and concern drawing him in. Concern for him of all people. Concern that he wanted to kiss away.

Jackson was not an expert in impulse control and Jackson could only take so much for a day. He thought the obligatory kiss you received from Jinyoung was the last straw. No, the last straw was you coming to him when he had tried hard to put distance between the two of you for the remainder of the night. Originally, the plan was to hide from you and sleep his feelings, promising to himself to act normal once the sun's up. But you were here now….

That had to be a sign, right?

He turned to you fully, finally speaking. "I need to tell you something."

If you thought you were already perturbed earlier then that was nothing compared to the apprehension you felt the moment you heard his words with a tone so serious. His voice was a new kind of deep, too, that you have only heard now. It was smooth and soothing and you probably wouldn't believe that it came from Jackson if you didn't see his lips move.

"Yes…?"

He took a step closer, hesitant at first, before he took another with a surer stride, stopping only when the distance between you two was a step away. Jackson's mouth opened, as if to say something, but nothing came out. Who was he kidding? He wasn't a word person. He was Wang Jackson and when wants to convey something, he does it best with actions; actions speak louder than words, after all, right? So act he did.

Internally, Jackson thanked you for convincing him to get some alcohol in his system, knowing he could have never dreamt of doing this sober. 

Liquid courage coursing through his veins, Jackson cupped your cheek, angled your face ever so slightly before leaning down and crashing his lips down on yours rather roughly in fear he might chicken out at the last minute.

It was awkward at first, with you standing there in silent stupor with a pair of lips on yours that you haven't quite registered yet. You do know that this was was entirely different than how it felt with Jinyoung. That was obligatory and made you feel… well, nothing.

But Jackson's was clumsy and still somehow hesitant yet making you feel warm all the same. He was about to pull away, most likely discouraged from your lack of response. Your arms were faster, though, hooking them around his neck and tugging him back. You could feel him stiffen against your hold for a moment before he resumed the kiss.

Feeling his lips move against yours, you matched his pace as the kiss that started out rather clumsily is now slowly yet steadily growing into something much more passionate and sincere. His other arm snaked its way around your waist as he pulled you closer until your body was flushed against his. And as Jackson got his confidence back, his kisses that were once exploring were growing heated. You can spend hours kissing Jackson, you realized, seemingly unable to get enough. So when he pulled away without warning, you huffed softly in protest, pouting your now swollen lower lip.

Now that you weren't engage in a liplock, your sense of hearing ,that you didn't know had left, returned just in time to hear the voice of people downstairs simultaneously counting down aloud.

3…

2…

1…

"Merry Christmas." Jackson whispered, locking gazes with you as he smiled that million dollar smile of his before resting his forehead on yours. You grinned back.

"Merry Christmas." 

And just like that, his lips were back on yours. Turns out, you two were the Christmas Miracle Jackson was so intent on happening.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Life’s Ineffable Like That

Ineffable Husbands, Post-Apocalypse,  Light-hearted shenanigans, Fluff

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: Crowley wakes up to find a human child left on his doorstep.  He’s not sure where it came from, or who it belongs to, but he’s got a vague idea what to do with it.  The trouble is getting Aziraphale to agree to it. 

A/N: This is going to just be a series of one-shots set it this universe.  I don’t really have things in chronological order.  If anybody would like to be tagged for this series or has any prompts, please let me know.  And finally  PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

          It took a lot to surprise Crowley.  

          Having been on the Earth since the very beginning and being older still, it would be an understatement to say he’d been ‘round the block a few times.  

          A more accurate description would be he’d been ‘round the area on which the block would eventually be built a few thousand times before eventually watching the construction of the block with a cup of tea and then going around the newly constructed block a few hundred thousand times more; occasional stops for repairs notwithstanding.  So, when one says that Crowley was taken by surprise when he opened his door to find a baby in a basket with a note attached, it is no small thing.

          His first sinking feeling was that this was another Anti-Christ after the last one had been a bust.  He couldn’t imagine his superiors below would ever trust him with such a task again; part of the ineffable plan be damned. However, one look at the child told him otherwise.

          It was human; from its tiny human dark-skinned toes to its tiny human wisps of black hair. One hundred percent, certified, distant relation to Adam and Eve, human. The next question was, who on Earth would place a human child in the care of a soldier of Hell?  

          He looked out into the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of who ever had drop the child on his door step.  Nothing came of it, of course, but Crowley felt he had to at least put in the effort. He looked down again.  

          The child was now staring up at him.  Its large brown eyes didn’t blink once as they took turns examining each other.

          “Right,” Crowley said.  “You aren’t going to cause trouble if I check something, are you?”

          The baby blinked, and Crowley took it as a yes.

          Slowly, the demon crouched down and took the note off the basket. Unfortunately, it was indeed, addressed to one A. J. Crowley.  

          He grimaced and opened the letter, which read as follows;

            Crowley,

          I’m not sure if you remember me, but I remember you. The night we had together is one I could never forget, for, as I hope is apparent to you now, obvious reasons.  I couldn’t bear to give her away.  You hear such awful things about foster care and orphans in books and the like. I just knew she’d be safe with you.

          Janet

            Crowley stared at the letter for a good long while.  She had been right; he couldn’t remember her. But the letter had managed to answer three things.  One, the baby was female.  Two, the mother clearly didn’t know who Crowley really was.  And three, this clearly was a big mix-up, but not by the postman.  It also answered a bonus forth question; the child was not his problem.  

          Without another thought on the matter, Crowley closed the door with a mild thud.  

          The child, however, would not allow Crowley to dismiss her without another thought.

          Muffled wails came from the other side of the door. Crowley turned towards it, his lip tightening.

          “Oh, so that’s how you’re going to play is it?  Go ahead! I watched after the wrong Anti-Christ for eleven years, I can take it.”

          The cries continued all the same as Crowley went about his morning routine. Or at least, while he tried to go about his morning routine.

          He had hoped somebody else might hear the baby crying and take care of it themselves. Or maybe the baby would just stop when it realized it wasn’t going to get its way. He had no such luck on either front.

          For one, he essentially lived alone on the top floor the apartment complex; so, the chances of a good Samaritan stopping in were slim to none.  And for second, a new born human is as stubborn as a full-grown mule.  

          The baby cried as he prepped his coffee with a pressed lip.  It continued on through his bedroom walls as he got dressed with gritted teeth.  And finally got to him when he was about to water his plants.

         “Fine!” he snapped, storming back towards the door.  “Fine! Fine! Fine!”

         He didn’t stop saying “fine” until the basket was placed on the dining room table just off the kitchen.  

         The child was still crying, but it had changed from the attention seeking wails to a more whimpering blubber.  

         Crowley let out an annoyed sigh, making a silent prayer to either side that nobody notice what he was about to do. With a snap of his fingers a bottle of warm milk appeared in his hand.    

         “Happy now?” he grumbled, as he held the bottle for the girl to drink.

         The baby did so, staring up at him with wide eyes.  She did not appear unhappy.  The bottle had stopped the cries at least.  But Crowley vaguely felt like she was threatening to start again should he try anything. He might have been impressed if her stubbornness if it wasn’t directed right at him.

         The moment’s quiet finally gave him time to think.  And that time to think helped him to remember just how this mix up might have started.

         He had been hearing more and more things on the news about sex, abortions, and if the government should or should not have a say in it.  This was not a new topic of conversation. Sex had always been a hot button issue to humans; seven deadly sins and all that.  What humans didn’t seem to realize though was the sin wasn’t the lust itself, rather all the things humans were willing to do to satisfy it; anger, betrayal, jealousy, the lot.  It came to the point where Crowley just had to know what all the fuss was about.  He was a demon after all, it was his job to allow himself the indulgence in sin.

         So, one night, he went out, got drunk and indulged.  One man, one woman, just to give each a fair shot. ��

         It was good.  He wouldn’t say he’d go out of his way to do it again. Or even if he could justify why humans were willing to kill each other over it; however, he could see why it might be done recreationally.

        Timeline wise, it more or less coincided with the appearance of a one-month old baby on his doorstep. However, there was no conceivable way he was actually the father.  Humans and demons couldn’t make children.  It would be like an ape trying to have a baby with a snake, rather literally in this case. Which meant, she had a human father somewhere out there, but who or where he was was a question Crowley couldn’t answer.

        Giving her back to her mother was out.  She had cast her aside.  The child had no home to be returned to. There was only one thing Crowley could do in this situation.  He pulled the bottle away and picked up the phone.

        “Sorry, we’re quite closed,” Aziraphale answered.

        “It’s me,” Crowley said quickly.  “I need you to come over.”

        “Something’s happened?” the angel asked, immediately recognizing his friend’s tone.

        “Yeah, you could say that.”

        Then, as if waiting for her cue, the baby began to cry once more.

        “Is that a baby?” Aziraphale asked, alarmed. “Another Anti-Christ?!”

        “No,” Crowley assured.  “No, no Anti-Christ.  Look, difficult to explain on the phone, just come over here.”

        “I’m on my way.”

        They both clicked off.  

        The baby cried, and Crowley was just about finished.

        “Right,” he snapped, walking back towards her. With dramatic flair, he tore off his sunglasses, letting the child get full view of his slitted, yellow eyes.

        “You are going to stop crying,” he growled in the same tone he used on his plants when one of them developed a spot. “You are going to sit there and behave until the angel figures out what do to with you. Do you understand?”

        The baby blinked, and Crowley prepared himself for the cry of fear. But, it never came. Instead, she out stretched her arms, brushing his nose with her tiny fingers.

        “What are you doing?” he asked, suspiciously.

        She didn’t answer, of course.  She just continued to swing her little arms around, trying to get a grip on his chin and face, and anywhere else she could manage to reach.

        Crowley pulled back a hair but allowed his hand to come within her range flailing limbs.

        She took hold of one of his fingers and let out a gurgle of satisfaction.

        The demon stared down, not quite sure what to make of it. The sensation of having his hand look so monstrously large when compared to hers, made his stomach twist in a foreign, but not entirely unpleasant way.

        She pulled his finger closer to her with no indication she was going to let go any time soon.

        “You’ve got so sense of self-preservation, do you,” he asked, dismissively.

        She batted his hand in response.

        Before he even fully realized he was doing it, he picked her up, careful to let her chin rest against his shoulder as he held her.  She started to drool on his jacket, but he found himself not really caring.  He could always miracle it away later.

        “You’re a real piece of work, you know that,” he said. “Whoever ends up looking after you is going to have their work cut out for them.”

        He walked through the flat towards the living room, not waiting for a response.

        “Aziraphale will probably say to give you away.  Make sure you’re picked up by some loving perfectly normal human family.  Boring answer, really.  But that would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

        He sat down on the couch, adjusting so he was leaning back as the baby lay on his chest.

        “God forbid an angel not to the right thing,” he said, ironically. “But, I’m not an angel, am I? I’m not supposed to do the right thing.”

        He let the thought stew for a moment before continuing.

        “My lot would probably just leave you behind a dumpster. Or find some place out of a Charles Dickens’ novel to drop you.  Basic set up for a miserable life; no real thought put into it. No imagination.”

        The child let out a little yawn, gripping vaguely at the fabric of Crowley’s shirt.

        He caught himself smiling at the action.  “Serves you right, a full hour of wailing can really take it out of you.”

        She didn’t make any more sounds one way or the other.  Her eyes simply fell closed.

        Crowley kept a hand on her to keep her from sliding off his chest before leaning fully back to stare at the ceiling. An idea was forming in his mind; one he was growing more and more keen to act on.  He would just need to convince Aziraphale to go along with it.  

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

       When the angel arrived at the flat, Crowley was still on the couch, now with the baby safely cradled in his arms.

       “Oh, thank God,” the angel said, breathing an audible sigh of relief. “It’s human.”

       “I said as much, didn’t I,” Crowley defended.  

       “You said it wasn’t another Anti-Christ,” the angel replied.  “That leaves plenty of other options open.”

       Crowley didn’t really have a counter argument and opted for a general nod of the head from side to side.

       “Well, either way, you’re here now.  Take her for a moment, will you?”

       He didn’t wait for Aziraphale to respond before practically shoving the girl into the angel’s arms.  

       Aziraphale took her, of course, cradling her head with the same care he might with his beloved books.

       “Hello there,” he cooed only a little awkwardly.

       The child opened its eyes with the same curiosity it did when examining Crowley. Perhaps it was his angelic nature, or maybe she was still tired from a good cry, but she cooed back, her hands grabbing vaguely in his direction.

       Aziraphale smiled at the action, and gladly gave her one of his fingers to play with before addressing the demon in the room.

       “Where did she come from?

       “Now angel, it’s been six thousand years. You really need me to explain the bird and the bees?”

       “You know what I mean,” Aziraphale said, trying to place more indignity than embarrassment in his tone.

       Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses, handed Aziraphale the note, and leaned against the island countertop as the angel read.

       Aziraphale finished the note, his brows furrowing in confusion. “This is clearly some sort of mistake.”

       “That’s what I said,” Crowley said, taking back the note.

       “You can’t possibly be the father.”

       “Obviously.”

       “So why does she think you are?”

       Crowley crossed his arms, doing his best to say the words as casually as possible. “Probably because I had sex with her.”

       Aziraphale blinked.  “You what?”

       “I. Had. Sex. With. Her.” The demon repeated, slowly.

       Aziraphale blinked again.  There wasn’t any judgement on his part that Crowley could detect, just a general confusion as if Crowley had just confessed, he liked peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwiches.

       “But, why?” the angel finally asked.

       “Curiosity,” Crowley answered, this time with genuine casualness.

       “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

       “There was nothing to tell. It was a one-off thing.  Well, two off,” he said, with a shrug. “Different person, nice man.”

       Aziraphale stared at him for a long while before letting out a tired sigh.

       “I will never fully understand you Crowley.”

       “Probably not,” he admitted. “But, I doubt we’d be friends if you did.”

       The angel didn’t argue, looking back down at the human baby in his arms.

       “I suppose it doesn’t matter where she came from,” he said.  “The simple fact is she’s here, and she needs a home.”

       The child’s eyes were beginning the close again as Aziraphale swayed gently back and forth, her grip still tight around his finger.

       “I suppose we’ll have to find some adoption agency,” Aziraphale said, his voice sounding almost melancholy at the prospect.  “There are plenty here doing good work.”

       “Yeah, about that,” Crowley said, taking a stride towards him.  “I was thinking, we could try something else.”

       “Such as?”

       “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was thinking about keeping her.”

       “What?!”

       “Shh, not so loud,” Crowley said.  “She’s going to sleep.”

       “You can’t keep her, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his whisper losing none of its edge.  “She’s a human being, not a plant you can terrorize.”  

       “So, she’s a human being, I’ve taken care of a human being before.”

       “As a nanny, for a handful of years, and that was for work.”

       Crowley could see the frustration rising in Aziraphale’s temples as the angel took a breath.

       “This isn’t a one-off thing,” he continued. “This is a life.  A human life.  She should be with other humans.”

       “And humans can do better than us, can they?”

       “They were able to handle the Anti-Christ much better than us, if I recall.”

       Crowley floundered for a moment before recovering. “Yeah, well, we helped.”

       “By being incompetent.”

       The demon let out a huff of frustration. “Fine, you don’t want in. You don’t want in. But then what happens to her after this is on you.”

       “Excuse me?”

       “Let’s say you take her to an adoption agency.  Maybe even go so far as to miracle her a nice normal family.  Then what? Forget? Let the world do with her as it likes? If a child were left on your doorstep, would you really just let her go?”

       Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer but stopped as the child made another small cooing sound. He looked down again, his eyes softening at the odd little bundle even as conflict still raged back and forth.

       “We can’t,” he said, with no real conviction.

       “Maybe you can’t.  I’m keeping her whether you say yes or no.” He then took another step forward and pulled the child out of the angel’s arms.

       Aziraphale floundered, completely shocked by his friend’s actions. “But—"

       “Let’s see,” Crowley said, speculatively.  “Girls names. Girls names.  Let’s go with –”

       “No!” Aziraphale interrupted.  “No! You can’t just name her.  Once you name her, we’re sunk.”

       “We? You just said yourself angel, you can’t.”

       “Well, you’re forcing my hand,” he countered.  “I can’t very well stand by and watch you create your own personal foot soldier of hell now can I?”

       Crowley grinned, knowing full well the excuse was just that, an excuse.  “Good, it’s settled, we’ll raise Izzie together.”

       “Izzie?” Aziraphale said, doubtfully.

       “Short for Isabelle,” Crowley explained.

       The angel raised an eyebrow.

       “What?” Crowley asked.  “You think I’m going to name my kid after some demon or something cruel like Bobbi Jean? No.  I think Izzie is just wrong enough.  Izzies are always crazy.”

       Izzie raised no objections to this as she gurgled peacefully.

       Aziraphale assessed the reaction carefully, before taking a small step closer.

       Izzie spotted him and her hands reached out for the angel’s finger once more. He let her take without hesitation.

       “Well for my money, I think Belle suits her much better,” Aziraphale said.

       “Whatever you say angel.”

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

Permanent Tag List; @sassy-satanunicorns, @roseslovedreams, @stargeek727, @kaliforniacoastalteens, @yourwonderbelle, @steve-thotgers, @stellasakura31

[vixxscifiwritings]

moon child

Characters - Sanghyuk + VIXX

AU - Greek mythology

Length - 4200+ words

Summary -  Jaehwan finds Sanghyuk, Wonshik and Hakyeon back in his court and sighs. Hongbin is visibly amused at how Sanghyuk’s doings always land them up here even when the Fates do not plan it.

Sequel to excuses for the heart’s attachment

“Come away Kero” Sanghyuk coos to Cerberus.

The three headed beast is reluctant to leave its master when he senses his distress. Sanghyuk smiles. Cerberus is fiercely protective of any god it decides to like. And it often decides to like any it meets.

Yet tonight Wonshik’s distress is not his own. He is only worried about the state of the one he loves.

Sanghyuk frowns. Hades is a walking contradiction. He sulks and fumes and yet loves fiercely. What is the point of love, if not to admit it to your lover? Gods live forever and yet eternity is meaningless if you are not living in the moments as they happen.

The child in his arms gurgles. Sanghyuk wipes the drool away from its mouth. Her mouth? His mouth?

The child laughs as it senses his confusion. It stretches its hand out and grasps for the flower diadem on Sanghyuk’s head. It falls short and pouts, two steps away from wailing.

“There there, little one” Sanghyuk consoles. He fashions bright red and white carnations out of thin air and hands the flowers over to the child. He sits by the balcony so that he may place the child and the flowers in his lap.

The toddler claps in glee as Sanghyuk makes carnation petals rain. Cerberus runs around it, different heads snapping in different directions trying to catch all the petals. The baby smiles and Sanghyuk must hold it firmly lest it fall over from the sheer joy it is experiencing.

“A pity there are not many flowers in the underworld for you to play with” Sanghyuk sighs.

The toddler looks at him curiously because it senses it is being addressed but Sanghyuk only ruffles its hair and so it looks away. It yawns and puts its head down on Sanghyuk’s chest. Little things tire easily, Sanghyuk will soon learn. For now he fails at comprehending anything apart from the fact that its tiny fist rests next to its head on his chest which is frankly ready to burst with joy, warmth and fierce protectiveness.

Cerberus whines in a low voice and nudges Sanghyuk’s thigh before resting his heads on it and looking at the sleeping baby curiously. It doesn’t take more than one second for Sanghyuk to make up his mind.

-

Jaehwan finds Sanghyuk, Wonshik and Hakyeon back in his court and sighs. Hongbin is visibly amused at how Sanghyuk’s doings always land them up here even when the Fates do not plan it. Taekwoon is present but confused.

“So you have decided to raise this human child as your own” Jaehwan summarizes, putting his head on his hands thoughtfully.

“The underworld is not a place for children!” Wonshik insists, his voice scathing and filled with distaste.

“The child’s soul has nowhere to go” Sanghyuk starts.

“It does. All souls belong to the underworld’s halls and the rivers of death” Wonshik cuts.

“I agree. The realm of the dead should be the last place to raise a living thing” Hakyeon puts in.

“Cerberus and I are doing just fine Mother” Sanghyuk reminds him.

“You are a god. Cerberus was birthed to guard the gates of hell. This is a human soul” Hakyeon argues.

“Enough” Jaehwan orders and the argument pauses. Hakyeon glares at Jaehwan and so does Sanghyuk and it is in that moment he can really tell that latter is the true child of the former.

Wonshik is glaring at Taekwoon for a change with Death attempting to soothe his lover. Hongbin maintains a neutral expression, watching what Jaehwan will do next. He must already know the outcome of this discussion.

“As I understand, the child is not yours to decide for” Jaehwan starts, gesturing to Death.

“The child is not mine Zeus. I merely ferried the soul to the underworld” Taekwoon clarifies.

“The child is rightfully mine” Wonshik claims. Any and every dead soul belongs to Hades. This shouldn’t even be debated at this point.

“Then I can raise the child as my brother or sister” Sanghyuk chirps.

“No you can’t” Wonshik shoots down the suggestion.

“Watch me” Sanghyuk replies defiantly.

“What do the Fates say? What will come of Persephone keeping the child?” Jaehwan asks Hongbin.

“Do you want to depend on the Fate’s foresight for this? Persephone has been known to defy our predictions” Hongbin grins. Sanghyuk blushes, recognizing the rebuke hidden behind the casual comment.

“But if you must insist, then Persephone claiming the child has no harmful implications as far as I can see.”

“It is settled then. Persephone is a ward of the underworld to which the child also belongs. With Hades’s permission he may raise the child as his own” Jaehwan decides.

“That settles it then. Sanghyuk does not have my permission” Wonshik seethes before storming off. Taekwoon follows and both Hakyeon and Hongbin watch him go. Hakyeon looks at Sanghyuk before leaving himself and only Hongbin is left, who is still waiting to finish his audience with Zeus that was interrupted by the three gods barging in.

Sanghyuk holds the child protectively, refusing to meet eyes with anyone else. He doesn’t need permission or help. He can do this himself.

“A girl” Jaehwan says, breaking the moment of awkward silence. “The child is a girl.”

“Mihee then. I’m going to name her Mihee.”

“A fitting name. May she grow to be the most beautiful in the land” Jaehwan blesses the soul.

The soul which has been a vague resemblance of a human body gains a corporeal shape. Her limbs are shirt and stomach pudgy. Her cheeks puff out with baby fat and her eyes are big and shiny brown. Jaehwan shares a soft smile with Sanghyuk. The child is immortal now.

Sanghyuk returns the smile but his is full of uncertainty. Now that the child is his, what comes next?

-

What comes next is a lot of crying, screaming and temper tantrums.

As a soul, Mihee was more calm and collected. Her needs and wants were limited to playing with Cerberus and Sanghyuk.

As a child, Mihee needs food and water and other basic necessities. Mihee also demands a lot of attention. If Sanghyuk disappears for more than a minute and she realizes it, she screams at a note high enough to make sirens tremble.

It gets worse when Mihee's godly powers develop. With zero control and a moody temperament, Mihee turns the entire realm upside down by causing storms, floods and fire if she doesn't have her way.

Everytime Mihee causes a disruption that Wonshik must step in to correct, his disdain for the child increases and Sanghyuk's fear that she will be taken away from him grows.

Sanghyuk takes Mihee out of Wonshik's castle. He keeps her with him as he tends to his gardens, watching as the stargazer lilies grow. Mihee likes it when he sings and this time it lulls her to fall asleep. Her sleeping visage is deceptively innocent, Sanghyuk thinks bitterly.

“Mihee has grown since I last saw her” Hakyeon says, taking Sanghyuk by surprise.

“Mother” Sanghyuk starts. He isn't expecting him here.

“It is winter's end. Snow has begun to thaw on Earth” Hakyeon tells him by the way of an explanation for his presence.

“I hadn't noticed” Sanghyuk admits truthfully.

Hakyeon says nothing and chooses to focus on his sleeping grandchild. The conversation makes her stir but she doesn't wake up and that feels oddly endearing.

“I'll take her. You can gather your things and inform Hades before you leave” Hakyeon tells him.

“Mihee tends to scream if I am not around” Sanghyuk tells him. He finds himself embarrassed on behalf of Mihee and knows Hakyeon will blame his bad parenting for it.

“Just like you then” Hakyeon says quietly. That surprises Sanghyuk because he doesn't remember being a fussy child. But it also makes him happy to share a trait with his daughter.

Hakyeon takes the child and gestures to Sanghyuk to go. He tells him to make haste before she wakes up. Sanghyuk follows his orders.

Collecting his possessions are easy for he is used to travelling every half year. But Mihee's things are spread all across the halls and he doesn't really know what he might require when so he decides to take everything.

Cerberus follows him around, whining because he recognizes what this entails. Sanghyuk tasks him with finding Mihee's toys. She has a penchant for hiding them and three heads will be better than one at finding them.

Cerberus trots off on its task. The halls of hell might not have many souls today Sanghyuk thinks. He finishes gathering most of his things and decides to find Cerberus. Mihee can survive with lesser toys. Or he will come back to find them if she so insists.

He runs into Wonshik in his search for Cerberus. Hades stands tall and proud, in a balcony overlooking the gardens and the river Styx. He surveys his realm while ruffling one of Cerberus's three heads.

“Hades” Sanghyuk starts, not wanting to interrupt the moment. Cerberus yips in response and Wonshik simply nods, refusing to look at him. But he invites him on to the balcony and that is a small victory.

Together they watch over the gardens and see Hakyeon sitting down and playing with Mihee on his lap. So Wonshik already knows that his mother is here and has surely guessed what time of the year it is. It isn't too hard to put two and two together now.

“I will take your leave. Mother is here to escort me to her realm” Sanghyuk tells him.

“Are you taking Mihee?” Wonshik asks.

“Yes”

“Don’t bring her back when you return.”

“I can't just leave my child behind” Sanghyuk cries.

“The underworld is no place for children. I could expressly forbid it.”

“Would you separate a mother from his child?”

“It was a decision forced upon me once. I won't hesitate from doing it again.”

-

That year, winter doesn't come to the humans.

-

“You are hiding” Hakyeon says.

The statement comes as a surprise to Sanghyuk. Hakyeon doesn't normally spend time with him. Ever since Jaehwan's judgement, Hakyeon merely acknowledges his existence but doesn't fuss over him like he used to.

For Hakyeon to judge his intentions so accurately despite a perceived indifference throws Sanghyuk off balance and leaves him embarrassed.

“I decided that it wasn’t wise to push Wonshik’s patience” Sanghyuk confesses. He watches Hakyeon nods before ruffling Mihee’s hair.

Mihee takes to Hakyeon the quickest. Jaehwan checks in every now and then to monitor the new god. Mihee can tell that he is a figure of authority and doesn't appreciate having to listen to any other good.

Hongbin brings gifts he finds useful and Mihee plays with them. They excite her curiosity and Sanghyuk finds himself wondering if the Fate has a purpose for them. Wonshik refuses to acknowledge her existence but Taekwoon visits almost every day like clockwork, staying mere minutes at times.

Hakyeon showers Mihee with praise and brings her fruits from his own gardens and harvest offerings. He takes her on long walks and teaches her about the world all around them. He teaches her about humans and the workings of their realm and the realm of the Gods and fates. Their history which made them who they are today and their future, which is uncertain but inevitable.

Sanghyuk hopes Mihee doesn’t start throwing tantrums when they have to return to the underworld. The divine contract is binding and he can't put it off much longer. Hakyeon never visits the underworld except to ferry him as seasons pass. Mihee will surely miss him once they leave.

“I never took you as the type to be afraid” Hakyeon comments casually.

Sanghyuk wonders how to reply to that. Silence remains his only recourse.

“Motherhood is like that” Hakyeon continues. “Even if you are the type to live without regrets. When you have a child you can't help but worry about their well being. You start putting their needs and priorities first.”

“I am sorry” Sanghyuk says finally. “When I ran away, I didn't realize that it would affect you so much.”

“I was worried. Hades is right when he says that the underworld is no place for little children. You were only a child god. Still are.”

“You must have been terrified.”

“I was ready to move Olympus and overturn Jaehwan's authority if he refused to give me back my child.”

“I really am sorry” Sanghyuk apologizes. It's years too late but the feelings are genuine and the lessons learnt the hard way.

“You don't have to be. You were born a god. Mihee was unfortunately born human first. In the eyes of many, she won't be taken as a legitimate goddess. And it will be your word against that of the pantheon when it comes down to that. You can't be weak when it comes to fighting for her.”

Sanghyuk nods. These are thoughts he already has in his head. He has seen the way the divine entities of Zeus's court look at Mihee. They won't accept her here on Olympus.

“When winter comes again, take Mihee to the underworld” Hakyeon advises.

“I have faith you will do well in raising her.”

-

“You have returned” Taekwoon smiles when Sanghyuk returns to the underworld. Death greets him as he steps off the boat, from river to land. Mihee waves to the souls who move just below the surface and Sanghyuk's hold on her tightens lest she fall in.

“Winter has begun” Sanghyuk says solemnly.

“They call it the coldest winter in the really of humans” Taekwoon tells him as they walk to Wonshik's castle.

“It must be a cause of concern. A cold winter means more disease and death” Sanghyuk concludes. Humans have no strength in their frail bodies and are susceptible to such extreme changes in the weather.

“True. But I don't think they are quite concerned about that. They hope to see snow early this winter” Taekwoon says, smiling softly.

“You've never seen snow, have you Mihee?” he asks, bending over to Mihee who is resting her head on Sanghyuk's shoulder.

“It's white and pretty when it falls. I think you'll like it” he continues. “When you grow up, I will take you to Earth to witness how humans celebrate winter.”

“I think Mihee would like that” Sanghyuk replies for his daughter who has dozed off now. Taekwoon smiles at him.

Death smiles more now and Persephone wonders if it is an effect of love. He is no longer lonely. Hades is a dedicated and righteous man, clearly very generous with his heart.

So why doesn't Wonshik like Mihee?

-

“You should have dinner with us tonight” Sanghyuk proposes.

Hongbin is babysitting Mihee and Sanghyuk takes the moment to tend to his lily garden. The stargazers are droopy from the lack of proper care and haven't wilted completely. Sanghyuk suspects that Wonshik has been taking care of them for him but knows better than to expect a confirmation of his suspicions.

Wonshik shakes his head and merely watches Sanghyuk take care of the lillies.

“Lillies need constant care. And periodic additions of fertilizers. Especially when spring comes so that the plant blooms in summer” Sanghyuk explains. “Particularly stargazers. They also need to be kept away from pests.”

“You won't find pests in the underworld. Not the living kind that eat your flowers” Wonshik replies.

“Gardens don't grow in isolation. It's an ecosystem” Sanghyuk explains. “The plants take nutrients from the soil and recycle the air. They provide food and shelter for rodents and pests who ultimately die and return to the soil and begin the cycle again.”

“There are bugs in my castle gardens?” Wonshik asks, tensing up.

“Is the mighty Hades afraid of bugs?” Sanghyuk teases. Wonshik glares at him but it is ineffective in stifling his mirth. Sanghyuk laughs out loud and Wonshik frowns, throwing blades of grass to stop him.

“I am afraid you have quite strained my hospitality. First you bring yourself into my realm and then you insist on raising pests” Wonshik huffs.

“I insist on raising a child too.”

“And there is no way to dissuade you?”

“Why do you wish to be rid of Mihee this desperately?”

“The underworld is no place for children. It was never meant to be home to the goddess of spring himself and most certainly not for their children.”

“You thought that Death had no place in the underworld too. You love Taekwoon the most.”

“There are things in this realm Sanghyuk. Dangerous places. Sinners are met with divine punishment and not in the nicest ways.”

“We will have to make sure Mihee never strays there.”

“I had forgotten how stubborn you were” Wonshik says. There is no way of winning this argument.

“I could say the same of you” Sanghyuk says, putting his gardening tools away. With a little love and care, the stargazers look healthier already. Sanghyuk wonders if he should plant some more at his mother's home. He will most certainly send a bouquet mid winter so that Hakyeon doesn't miss Mihee and him too much.

“Tomorrow, the empires will declare war on each other. The halls will be filled with deformed cruel souls again” Wonshik tells him.

“I will take care that Mihee doesn't run into them” Sanghyuk promises.

“You really should join us for dinner. Hongbin says Mihee might speak her first word soon. You might be around to witness it.”

-

The rivers to the underworld fill up with the souls of the dead. War is a gory business and the soul of the wicked and the maimed reflect their karma and despicable acts in the shapes it takes.

Once Sanghyuk would think nothing of it but Wonshik's concern is rightly placed. Hades opens the gates of the castle by Cocytus so that mother and daughter may stay there in peace while the war progresses. Sanghyuk misses his gardens and Mihee misses Cerberus but both resign themselves to their fate.

Their peace is interrupted when the Erinyes arrive. Sanghyuk is not intimately acquainted with the deities but he has seen them petition to Wonshik on occasion to claim souls of sinners.

His worry increases on their arrival but he tries not to show it. Custom dictates that he invite his guests in and so the deities come to meet his daughter. They coo over Mihee (under his watchful eye) and do not say anything more.

“We have business with the gods” is the only response he gets to his polite inquiry.

His confusion grows when Wonshik and Jaehwan arrive. Wonshik looks grave but when does he not? Jaehwan is serious too, devoid of his usual flirtatious ways.

“My dearest” he says, kissing Sanghyuk's hand. Wonshik's disapproval is clear but he doesn't interfere. Jaehwan doesn't have the straightest reputation when it comes to romance.

Sanghyuk isn't even thinking about it. Why are the gods assembling here? And who has called them? Jaehwan seems to know as much as he does and the Erinyes refuse to enlighten them.

Taekwoon arrives last and brings the answer to his questions.

The Erinyes sense him and their restlessness grows. Wonshik gestures to indicate that Sanghyuk should take Mihee away.

“She must stay” one of the deities scowls.

“She is a child. She isn't needed” Jaehwan speaks.

“She must stay. Only she can give us permission to exact divine vengeance” the deity screeches.

“Stay behind me at all times” Wonshik says, standing protectively in front of his wards. Sanghyuk knows it is a bad time but he can't help how his heart swells with pride.

After what feels like forever, Taekwoon drags a soul into the castle halls. Its jarring screams can be heard from a mile away.

“Who have you brought before us?” Zeus asks, looking at the soul in pity.

“A war general but also the man who tortured and killed Mihee when she was in her human form” Taekwoon replies. The Erinyes hiss and the tension in the room is palpable.

“Why have you brought him here?” Wonshik asks angrily. Mihee looks to be on the verge of crying. Her base human soul recognizes the criminal soul in front of her.

“Crimes of this order mean that the decision of the soul's fate is out of my hands. I petition to hand him over to the Erinyes so he may be taken to the inner circle of hell and punished for all eternity” Taekwoon demands. Sanghyuk is reminded of his fury on the day he brought Mihee's soul to the underworld and his vow of revenge.

“The decision to do that is not yours” Wonshik says, looking over to Jaehwan.

“It's not his either. It must be the goddess who decides” the Erinyes decides. “Only she can tell us what to do.”

Mihee senses everyone turn to her. She clings on to Sanghyuk and has tears in her eyes.

“Mihee, dearest. Won't you listen to your uncle?” Taekwoon says, trying to sway her to his point of view. Mihee only tears up and buries her head in Sanghyuk's chest.

“She is only a child. How can she decide?”

“She must choose. And if she doesn't willingly then we will make her” the deities chant together and they move. Wonshik glares and the temperature in the room drops.

“As the child of my ward, I will make this decision for her” Wonshik pleads.

“I accept the suggestion” Jaehwan says, attempting to wrap this up as smoothly as possible.

“We do not!” the oldest of deities yells. She moves and her form is trapped in vines that erupt from the earth.

“You will not dare to lay a hand on my child!” Sanghyuk yells in anger. He traps all the deities in their places with thick vines, the thorns protruding and ready to hurt anyone who attempts to come near Mihee.

“Mamma”

Mihee's voice silences everyone. These are her first words and in normal circumstances, this is a cause for joy. Sanghyuk is too angry to let this go.

“Mamma” Mihee repeats firmly, clutching onto his robes.

“This is a bad man who did very bad things to you Mihee, once upon a lifetime” Sanghyuk explains. “Uncle Taekwoon is right to punish him.”

Mihee looks at him and then to Taekwoon who nods at her. She looks down at the writhing soul and shakes her head. She turns back to her mother and refuses to look further.

“Wonshik, she doesn't understand what she is saying” Taekwoon pleads. Wonshik stands unsure. He can't interfere with Mihee's divine right when he hasn't officially claimed her and Sanghyuk won't overturn her decision either.

“How long will this wretched soul live in hell?” Jaehwan asks, looking at the offender. Years of crimes and corruption have eroded all good things from it.

“Not very” Wonshik concedes.

“For his crimes against the goddess, he is acquitted” Jaehwan starts. He hushes everyone with a raise of his hand. “However his crimes against the rest of humanity stand and for that I pass judgement. The Erinyes may choose an appropriate punishment for that.”

On his signal, Sanghyuk releases the Erinyes. But he glares at them all the while they free themselves and collect the human soul and leave. Wonshik is instantly by Taekwoon's side. Both of them are not happy with the way the events have played out but Jaehwan's decision is just and has to be followed.

Jaehwan puts a hand on Sanghyuk's shoulder. Mihee and Sanghyuk both turn to look to him.

“Mihee displayed great sensibility tonight” he says. “She will be a benevolent god. One we may need.”

“She is a child Zeus” Sanghyuk says warily. Whatever he intends to do with his child, Sanghyuk will simply not allow it.

“She is a god, Persephone. She was created by my hand, so she is my child too” Jaehwan reminds her with an angry glare.

“I designate her the goddess of mental wellbeing and prosperity and the harbinger of insanity as a punishment to the evil. When she grows, she will have her own realm in the skies as a minor goddess of the moon” Jaehwan concludes.

Sanghyuk gulps. A place in the pantheon will secure Mihee's future among the gods and no one shall dare question her legitimacy. This blessing truly holds more worth than anyone had expected.

“Will you give her the mantle of Hecate?” Taekwoon asks. The god in question is old and maybe Mihee will make a fine successor.

“A new mantle. Melinoe” Jaehwan says. Though the mantle is an epithet of the old goddess, her role in the divine workings are separate and clear. “To bless the deserving with prosperity and to punish the evil with insanity. Both shall be her powers to grant on maturity.”

“Thank you” Sanghyuk says, on the verge of tears himself.

“Mamma” Mihee calls out, concerned at her mother's distress and he hugs her. Jaehwan smiles at the pair before leaving the pair. He must inform the Fates and have the nymphs on Olympus record this in their history.

“Till she is old enough to manage her own realm, she will stay in the underworld. It will always be her home” Wonshik says. Sanghyuk almost hugs the god himself.

One by one, everyone leaves and Sanghyuk takes a seat. He is surprised that his knees haven't given out earlier. He looks at his daughter who plays with his robes.

“Won't you say Mamma again Mihee?” he asks, free to indulge his daughter now.

Mihee smiles mischievously and doesn't say a word. Sanghyuk laughs.

-

-

-

Ending notes 

1. One debate about Melinoe's birth/origin is that she is a child of Persephone with Zeus or of Persephone with Hades. In this, Mihee is represented as a child of both. 2. Melinoe is a goddess who predates the concept of Hecate/Erinyes chronologically. In this fic, I switched it around.

[melleonis]

What to Wear when Divorcing Your Husband

- article from Arktika, Winter 2016

Gentle reader, as you know, we at Arktika try to avoid writing anything which could be considered either “useful” or “advice”, preferring to leave such fare for your typical supermarket check-out “ladies’ mag”, but our hand, regrettably, has been forced in this instance by a deplorable trend in recent days, which is, simply put, that all too many women, otherwise adequate in matters of fashion, when confronted with the task of selecting an ensemble to wear to divorce proceedings, absolutely crumble, committing inexcusable blunders - the cost of which, in lost alimony, objets d’art, boats, cars, and lake houses - but far more importantly, in wounded pride and injuries to one’s self-respect - totaled across all such proceedings, cannot be overstated, and which could be easily and directly remedied were the would-be divorcées to heed a simple set of instructions such as the following:

I. Every choice you make, in apparel or accessories or demeanor, has the twofold goal of projecting your own certainty in the rightness and inevitability of what you are owed, and sowing confusion and doubt in the heart of your soon-to-be ex-husband. It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking of your trial as a simple demonstration of the merits of your case to an impartial judge. Nothing could be further from the truth: the judge is all-but-irrelevant, and your contest is with your once-husband. Plague him with uncertainties. Keep him off balance. Eventually, he will err, and the day (and the yacht) will be yours. It is another trap to play to the pity of the judge. Oh, it may well procure material gain, at least in the short term, but remember that once you leave court, you still need to be able to look your peers in the eye, and how can you do that after teary-eyed groveling appeals in front of, not only the judge, but your ex-husband, your attorneys, your personal assistant, and the inevitable society reporters as well? You cannot; fire any attorney who suggests such a thing. Lastly, do not conflate “certainty” with “confidence”. Confidence is a mere projection of strength, and cannot compete with the bedrock of certainty that you will get what is coming to you as surely as the sun rises.

II. Sunglasses are a must. This confuses some women. You do not wear sunglasses in court - and rightly so. You do, however, wear sunglasses into court, and cases are won and lost in the first five seconds. When you walk into the courtroom, your former partner will be scrutinizing your face for any hint as to your emotional state. Deny him. Understandably, some women feel they must “economize” under the uncertainty and strictures of a looming divorce; we have sympathy for these women, even if we cannot truly understand their position. If you must use thrift, the sunglasses are an obvious choice. As long as they do not look cheap or clash with anything else you are wearing, that will be fine. You absolutely cannot skimp on the sunglasses case, however. They must be designer; prepare to spend at least $150 on them.

III. You do have to purchase all-new clothes. This may seem excessive, but remember that the goal is to confound your opponent. Any article of clothing he recognizes, and God forbid any article of clothing he purchased for you, is a small constant: a connective ligament between who you were when he knew you and who you are now. Sever all such ties. Similarly, you will have to radically change your hair. If you have been wearing your hair at shoulder-length or longer, consider an asymmetrical bob. If your hair is chin-length, consider a boyish short cut. For heaven’s sake do not shave or “buzz” your head, however - that is a sign of grief or instability. IV. For your first divorce, keep it simple. A charcoal suit is fine. A black suit is better. Fitted, but not too fitted. We recommend straightforward pumps with no more than a three-inch heel, neither chunky nor stiletto. Oxfords should only be attempted if you are absolutely secure in your posture and bearing. Accessorize with plain jewelry - gold or silver, depending on your skin tone. You will have heard of other women who met with great success using other, more outré strategies - the black hooded cloak of an ill-omened prophet-bird, or the wild hair and ragged grey-green tuille of a sea witch, or completely nude. We cannot emphasize enough that these strategies are under no circumstances for beginners. There are far too many variables to consider, the stakes far too great, to attempt anything experimental. The sea witch only works in maritime court, which you are unlikely to see unless the whole of the proceedings revolve around the disposition of various boats; the otherworldly nature of the prophet-bird can be completely undercut should the proceedings take a turn for the squalid or ugly, which is frankly likely; and nudity can only even be considered with irreproachable cheekbones and a bearing that causes men instinctually to kneel at your passing. Stick to the basics for your first time round.

V. Avoid anything too sexy - for yourself. Your husband has likely seen you naked. If he can connect that image to the woman opposite him in court, that is an unacceptable fragment of continuity. Hold yourself aloof and unattainable. It should seem more likely to him that he dreamt or imagined your marriage than that he could ever have been with you. However, that pencil skirt and strappy sandals which you should not be wearing are ideal for your personal assistant. Again, it is important that she be wearing nothing your husband has ever seen her wear, but if she has been fiscally prudent and properly anticipatory of your needs, this should pose no difficulty. The distraction she will provide is valuable in and of itself, but consider - if you are comfortable with it - displaying a hairsbreadth more affection toward her than is entirely proper. No need for anything ribald; a simple half-second touch to the back of her hand, a meaningful look which lasts slightly longer than it needs to - these should suffice. This tactic will crack the composure of even the most hardened exes, and whatever whispers of it make its way through your peer group or even the society papers are very likely, in this era, to be more beneficial than damaging.

VI. You do have to hire a violinist to play Shinsuke Nakamura’s entrance theme when you walk in. However, do not think you have to hire, say, Midori or an artist of equal standing. The benefits of so demonstrating the depth of your resources and the breadth of your social connections will be overshadowed by the risk of you yourself being overshadowed during your entrance. This would be fatal. Any promising and presentable young Juilliard student will do perfectly well. Please remember that you are not performing Shinsuke Nakamura’s entrance - you are entering to Shinsuke Nakamura’s entrance theme. Dear reader, you are not a professional athlete, and death drops - even if somehow executed flawlessly in heels - are inadmissible as evidence. A level pace, a few measured words with your attorneys, a shared moment with your personal assistant - all undertaken with grace and composure - these will be amplified by the violin backdrop. Do make sure the young man or woman in question is capable of sitting quietly and without fidgeting. VII. Legal is requiring us to state that none of this advice will work for short women. It should go without saying that if you stand under 5′8″, all of the above advice is worthless to you. If you are such a woman and have somehow managed to acquire this copy of Arktika, please let us know so that we can fire our market research team.

You’re welcome, and happy divorcing.

[cattwomannn]

Without You (Jason Todd x Reader)

Request: “Can you do a Jason Todd x Reader where they get into their first fight?”- anon

 Warning(s): language

 A/N: So basically, this took forever for me to do because I wrote the whole thing, was ready to post it, decided I hated it, and redid it all. So, I apologize for not posting anything in forever! I’m the worst. Lol.

 Y/N- Your Name

Y/N/N- Your Nick Name

 ________________________________________________________________

 It had been weeks since you’d heard back from Jason. He was out on another one of his missions with Roy and Kori somewhere dangerous. It always scared the hell out of you when he left, your thoughts always wandering to the darkest scariest corner of your mind.

What if he’s injured, or been captured, or god forbid what if he’s dead?

You shutter just thinking about it.

 You had just gotten home from work, where it was impossible to focus on anything but Jason. Eventually your boss had gotten tired of you zoning out during your shift, and let you go early. You couldn’t even blame him. What good were you if you couldn’t perform a simple task without being distracted by the idea of Jason maybe never coming home?

It’s not like Jason had never gone MIA before, because he had. But never for this long… he almost always found a way to get into contact with you, and if he personally couldn’t talk to you, he’d make sure someone else gave you the message.

But this time no one had called, or texted, or anything, and the worry was eating away at you.

 You walked up to the home the two of you shared, hoping and praying you’d open the door and see him standing there, but when you went in all you found was your empty apartment. You sighed, threw your keys and jacket onto the table and shuffled off to your room.

As soon as you made it to the bed you realized how exhausted you were… worrying really took all the energy out of you. You pulled back the comforter and crawled in, curling up into a ball under the sheets and soon falling asleep.

 It wasn’t even an hour later when you woke and heard a loud thump come from the opposite side of the room, you froze in terror. There was someone in your apartment and you had no way to defend yourself. You instantly regretted all the times you’d turned Jason down when he offered to help you learn how to fight. Suddenly you remembered the baseball bat you had stashed under the bed, for situations just like this. You quietly reached your arm out from underneath your blankets and blindly searched for the bat. When your hand reached it, you knew you had to work fast. You got a good grip on your weapon and lunged off the bed, closed your eyes, and swung the bat wildly at whoever had broken in through your window.

The person yelped out in pain but ultimately snatched the bat out of your hands and threw it to the floor. You were about to scream when they put their hands on your shoulders and spoke.

“Y/N! Stop! It’s me!” they shouted.

You recognized the voice, and quickly opened your eyes to see your boyfriend standing in front of you. You almost collapsed in relief.

“Jesus… you hit really hard.” He mutters, walking over to the light switch and flipping it on.

You looked him up and down, he seemed to be fine, if anything he’d have a couple of bruises in the morning, but otherwise unscathed.

 Once you were sure that he was okay, your relief turned to anger. He could see it by the look on your face that he was in trouble.

“I can explain…” he said, putting his hands up in defense.

“Oh, I’m sure…” you respond sarcastically.

Jason sighs and goes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Baby, please. Can we do this tomorrow? I’m exhausted. I want to talk, I do. But I can’t even think straight right now.” He says, using his best puppy dog eyes on you.

But it only makes you angrier. Not only did Jason disappear for weeks without a trace, but now he wasn’t even trying to take you seriously. Any other day, you’d agree. You’d never had a real fight with Jason before, but you had a feeling tonight was gonna be your first.

You turned around without answering him, and walked into your closet, leaving him sitting there utterly confused.

You came out a few minutes later fully dressed.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his brows furrowing together.

“You can sleep, I’m going to stay at Barb’s for the night.” You muttered before walking out the bedroom door.

With that Jason jumps up from his spot on the bed, following you out.

“Hey, wait!” he shouts after you.

You spin around on your heel’s, stopping so fast that Jason almost runs right into you.

“What’s going on with you? I know I was gone longer than expected, but I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal…” he confess’, trying to understand what’s going on.

“That’s really why you think I’m mad? No, Jason. I’m mad because you were gone for two weeks, and I had no idea if you were okay. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, hell I would’ve settled for fucking carrier pigeon. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat, I couldn’t even focus long enough to get anything done at work…” you trail off, you can feel yourself getting worked up now, but you can’t stop.

“Babe… I’m so sorry. I just got really busy, I didn’t think it’d affect you that much.” he mumbles.

At this point you’re crying, angry tears more than anything.

As soon as Jason notices, he steps forward and tries to pull you into his arms, but you push away from him.

“I never would’ve put you through something like this, and if I did my explanation would be a lot better than a simple ‘I got busy’…” you say through the tears.

“Y/N/N…” he frowns, feeling guilty.

More than anything he wanted to protect you, and make you happy. The fact that he was the source of your pain killed him.

Finally, you wipe the tears from your eyes and grab your things.

“I have to leave… I have to go before I say something that I’ll regret in the morning. You should get some sleep, you look exhausted.” And with that you opened the door and left, leaving Jason standing alone in your dark empty apartment.

  The next morning you wake early, thank Barbara for letting you crash on her couch, and leave for home. You got about as much sleep as you had expected you would, which was not a lot. You spent most of the night just staring at the ceiling thinking about Jason. Thinking about how maybe you had overreacted, more than anything you just wanted to be cuddled up in your bed together watching crappy tv and eating copious amounts of junk food. But at the same time, Jason hurt you, and he seemed to not understand why, which only made you more upset.

Once you arrived at the apartment, you walked in as quietly as you could, trying not to make too much noise. But as soon as you closed the door behind you, you heard a hoarse voice call out your name, and saw Jason sit up on the couch.

“What are you doing? Why didn’t you sleep in the room?” you ask, setting your stuff down, and go to sit down next to him.

“I didn’t want to sleep in the bed without you…” he says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice.

As soon as he says this you can feel all the anger from the night before melt away. And from his tone it was obvious you weren’t the only one who had stayed up all night.

“Oh, Jason…” you sigh.

He looks over at you, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than usual.

You turn to him cupping his face in your hands, and bring your lips to his giving him a soft kiss.

“Let’s get you to bed… Okay? We can talk about this later…” you say, grabbing his hand and standing up, but he pulls you back down next to him.

“No… I need you to know that I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I don’t ever want to make you feel like I don’t care ever again. You’re one of the most important people in my life and I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.” He says, staring down at your hands in his.

A small smile spreads across your face as you speak.

“Jason… you silly boy. You’re never going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere any time soon. I was just worried, and when I saw that you were okay it was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. But it also let me realize how angry I was at you for not at least letting me know you were alive… I don’t think I could ever go through that again. Losing you the first time was hard enough.” You explain.

“I love you.” he says, kissing you again.

You sigh into the kiss, this was all you had wanted to do for weeks, and now he was here, and it was perfect.

“I love you too.” You say, with heavy eyes.

When you pull away, you yawn, making Jason laugh.

“Don’t you yawn, you’re gonna make me-“ but before he can finish his sentence he yawns as well.

You laugh too, and pull on his arm once again, this time he stands up with you.

“Come on, love. Let’s go to bed.” You smile, and make your way to the bedroom where the both of you get the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.