#i polished it up this morning so i can post it with no regrets

[yuzuuu4]

“ (...) I understand, Akehoshi... You and I, we’re twin souls. (...) Due to some trick of fate, we’re now by each other’s side.” - Hidaka Hokuto, SS Chapter 34

Summary:

“Hokke,” a lilting voice calls out to him, drawing all of his attention to the source like a moth to a flame.

(...)

“Say, Hokke, isn’t it funny how someone can feel so lonely even with so many people around?”

What are you thinking of, Akehoshi?

“Hokke,” a lilting voice calls out to him, drawing all of his attention to the source like a moth to a flame.

Watching this ethereal being—Akehoshi, he corrects himself—slowly stretching his hand out towards the sky, splaying his fingers and looking at the stars through the gaps of his digits makes Hokuto’s breath hitch. It was as if something was different this time, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Akehoshi’s mouth purses, and opens with a soft exhale. Hokuto finds himself enraptured by every little movement, but resolutely keeps his eyes away from his unitmate’s mouth.

“Say, Hokke, isn’t it funny how someone can feel so lonely even with so many people around?”

What are you thinking of, Akehoshi?

He wills himself to take a step closer to the grounded star, oh so desperately climbing back up with every fibre of his being to be with his kind, only to come crashing down with a violent thud. “... Akehoshi—” “It’s scary, Hokke. I… I know I’m different from everyone. They always call me a ‘genius’ and that I’m ‘talented’, but… is it really something to be proud of when it’s so lonely being a genius? I’m not as perfect as everyone thinks.

“So why do they keep thinking that I am? Can’t you tell me, Hokuto?”

Won’t you tell me what thoughts lie behind those miserable eyes? Hokuto falters on his next step; he doesn't know how to answer Akehoshi without revealing how his hands are no cleaner than the rest of them, putting this star—this boy the same age as him—on such a high pedestal.

Through the court of his own mind, he pronounces himself guilty of the same crime.

How would he atone for this wrongdoing? His brows furrowed with a frown. Logically, this boy is what the others call him: a genius. Someone who is completely out of this world, blinding everyone he meets with his sheer brightness. A freak of nature, and the sun personified.

Yet, is he not the same boy who only wished to watch the sakura fall from their perches with his friends? A boy that has a pet dog he loves dearly, and only wishes to shine and have fun with his friends? In that case, then it would not make him any different from the rest of them.

He frowns even harder, hand balling up into a fist by his side. If only he could resolve everything with his fists.

The unnaturally dim skies in Akehoshi’s eyes flick over Hokuto’s troubled expression, scrutinising every miniscule twitch and flit of his eyes. He smiles wryly, as if understanding his inner turmoil.

“... Ahaha, I said something weird, didn’t I? I can tell because you went quiet. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that! I just thought you’d understand, that maybe if I become a shining idol like my dad—no, a shining star, then I…”

He’s made up his mind.

If Akehoshi wouldn’t be considered by the vast majority to be the same as them, then Hokuto would just have to grab onto this genius’ arm and never let go.

“You’re already a star, Akehoshi. You’ve always been.”

The faint spark that he saw in his (no, not yet his, never would be his) star’s eyes was what urged Hokuto’s mouth to keep spilling the words resting on the tip of his tongue like overflowing water from a cup.

“You’ve always been a shining star to everyone—including me. But if that’s too lonely for you, then…”

“Hokuto–” He feels Subaru startle when his hand comes up to lace their fingers together, thumb idly rubbing at the back of Subaru’s hand.

“If it’s too lonely for you alone, then I’ll become a star just like you, so we can be lonely together at the top.”

Hokuto meets Subaru’s wavering gaze, eyes brimming with determination. It almost scares him, with how natural it feels to give up everything for this boy. To do anything just to see his sparkling smile directed at him. He knows that the other two would have agreed with him if he told them.

He sees Subaru choke on his tears and laughter, free hand sloppily wiping at the river of tears sliding down his cheeks.

“Hokke, you’re so weird and stupid sometimes. But I really like that about you, y’know?” “I know, Subaru.”

I really like you too went unsaid, but the hand squeezing his told him that maybe Subaru knew already.

[dracocheesecake]

Can you write a drunk Kai fic?

Can I?! 👀

Warning: Some foul language, drunkenness, slightly suggestive innuendo

It was a nice night out: clear skies, the moonlight nothing short of inviting. The lanterns of the nearby town glowed warmly, red and yellow, beckoning the weary soldier forth to partake in what it had to offer. You just had to go out.

That was how Oogway had justified it to Kai, though really, he didn't need an excuse; for one who usually fussed so much over his rank, he never did miss an opportunity for drinks and women. Oogway barely had to say anything before Kai tossed aside the weapons he had been polishing and strolled out of the tent they shared with a small bag of money, bouncing it lightly in one hoof.

"Drinks on me," was all he said- and who was Oogway to refuse such an offer?

A few drinks in, though, he was starting to have his regrets. He counted from recent memory how many shots they had each taken from the clay jug set on their table. For himself: two. For Kai: four.

It was cheap huangjiu, and possibly even watered down. Oogway wasn't even feeling tipsy yet. Kai had had only four shots, and none too quick in succession of each other; He couldn't have gotten that drunk so quickly, not with his size, especially with their meal.

Oogway gently picked up the jug. It was still warm, and barely empty. He swished the wine around, then glanced up at Kai again. He was giggling to himself, a wide smile plastered on his face, the likes of which Oogway had never before seen from him. He chattered more than ever, too, apparently about nothing in particular- probably the heifers sitting not far from them- Oogway was too worried to notice.

He now had a problem on his hands. The longer he spent with Kai, the more apparent it became. They had leave, yes, but only for a certain time; they needed to be back to relieve their compatriots of the morning patrol before too long, and if they didn't show up at time- or showed up drunk, unable to serve- the punishment would be severe.

Oogway took the jug and subtly poured the rest of its contents into a potted plant nearby. Kai hadn't noticed- when he finally tore his eyes off the women in the bar, he just picked up the empty jug and tried to pour it into his cup. His brow furrowed in consternation. He tried a few more times, then peeked into the jug. He looked up at Oogway, with such an inappropriately woebegone expression that Oogway nearly burst into laughter.

"Where did the wine go?" He asked.

Oogway choked back his chortles. "...You drank it all, Kai," he said.

The bull blinked. "I did?"

"Yep. Every drop. Now let's head back. We've done what we came here to do, and we still have patrol. Maybe the walk will sober you up."

Kai snorted, that dopey smile returning. "I'm not drunk. Night's young. Lighten up. Besides, we haven't done everything there's to do yet."

That grin became a little more salacious, and he tossed his head towards a small group of heifers seated at a table nearby.

"What do you think?"

"I think we need to get going before the sergeant finds out we're not at our posts."

Kai glanced at Oogway, and his eyes widened. For one hopeful moment, he thought that maybe he had finally gotten through to him- a hope that was quickly dashed.

"Of course! You probably don't like heifers, huh? I don't know what you prefer."

He grinned again, then leaned over the table until Oogway could smell the faint hint of alcohol on his breath. His voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper (or what Kai probably thought was a whisper).

"What do you like, Oogway? Anyone here catch your eye? Maybe that croc over there with the long tail, or that turtle with the nice curve to her shell, hmmm?"

He winked, and Oogway felt both abashed and annoyed at the same time. He rolled his eyes and pushed Kai so that he slumped back into his seat. The bull giggled, stomping his hooves. Oogway sighed and pinched the space between his brows. Already a headache was forming.

"We're getting you out of here," he grumbled under his breath, "with luck, by the time I drag your ass back to camp the sun will only be just beginning to rise."

He got up and grabbed Kai's arm, then somehow managed to get him out of the bar. They were standing in the street, and Oogway turned to him, about to grab him and resume the attempt to get back, but then Kai suddenly grabbed his face.

Oogway at first froze, confused. Then Kai started squeezing his face between the clefts on his hooves that acted as his forefinger and thumb.

"...I've never noticed before," he said, "but you're really squishy. What's up with that?"

He pulled on Oogway's cheeks, pinched them, squeezed them again, and continued to pull them. "Soooooooo squishy. OH!"

His eyes widened. "That's what the shell's for!" He released Oogway's face and then knocked on the shell, sending reverberations down his spine.

"PROTECT THE SQUISHY PARTS!" Kai laughed boisterously, then nearly lost his footing and stumbled back. Oogway reached for him, but Kai caught himself, leaning forward and putting his weight on Oogway. He chuckled.

"What d'ya need armor for, dumbass? You already have some!" Then he cackled again.

At this point, bending a little under Kai's weight, Oogway contemplated just whopping his ass and leaving him here, damn the consequences; but then he remembered that he was his friend, and he actually liked him too much (when he was sober) to see him face corporal punishment.

Or embarrassment. There was another band of soldiers, people they knew from their regimen, just coming down the street. If they saw Kai like this, as a drunken fool, he would never live it down. Without thinking, he shoved the yak into a runoff ditch in the side of the road and jumped in after him. It was dark out, and the lamps weren't that bright; if they laid low, they could get away without notice...

And then Kai burst into song.

Oogway would have been more shocked and impressed, if the timing weren't so terrible; Again, he wondered to himself why he bothered with him, and again had to appraise their budding friendship. Yet again (though with a little more effort of will this time), he recalled that he actually liked Kai. He wasn't a bad singer, either.

With that in mind, Oogway managed to drag Kai up the other side of the ditch before they were seen, and then they were in an alleyway, and from there out into a field. Conveniently, the moment they were alone was the time Kai stopped singing. He stumbled into a rice paddy, gasped, and started stomping, sending muddy water splashing everywhere.

"GAAAH! FUCK! WET!" He jumped up and immediately began clambering onto Oogway's shell- as best someone of his size could attempt on someone so much smaller than him. In other circumstances- if it had been someone else- Oogway would have laughed; now, though, being the one bearing the full, crushing brunt of Kai's weight, he failed to see the humor in it.

"It is WET, Oogway! SO WET!" Kai was saying.

Oogway tried to shrug the yak off, but he clambered up further and nearly sent them both tumbling. Oogway barely managed to set them back to rights. His legs were about to buckle, but he held on, groaning as Kai settled awkwardly on his shell.

"Yeah," he said, voice strained. "It's a rice field. It's supposed to be. Now get down from there! I'm not going to carry you."

Kai clung to him tighter and adjusted his balance. "I carry you all the time, do this one thing for me!"

"I'm not 700 pounds, Kai!"

"I'M 760!"

"Yeah- heavy!"

Kai snorted disdainfully, and a note of faint sobriety came through. "You're just weak! See, this is what I get, for wasting my time on a scrap of-"

Oogway chuckled and slapped the back of Kai's thigh. "There, see? You're sobering up some. Good. Maybe that means you can walk yourself." His legs were shaking under him, but he was holding out.

Kai grunted and started squirming. "DID YOU JUST SLAP MY ASS, MOTHERFUCKER? DO I LOOK LIKE A HOR-"

Kai overbalanced himself, and Oogway helped, gladly ridding himself of the burden. Kai flipped, landing on his back in the rice patty with a loud, harsh, wet slap. Now Oogway did laugh, finally- but not for long. It fell to him once more to get Kai up and onto his hooves, and the trek began again. This time Kai, perhaps humbled by the mudbath, remained blissfully silent.

By some miracle they had arrived to the outer perimeters, and by another only just managed to get in right on time to relieve their compatriot. But the night was not yet over- their superior would be over at some point, to check to see that they were both awake and at their posts; if they could just manage that, then would the ordeal finally be over.

Oh, but nothing could be that simple, could it? Snoring sounded off to his right, snoring he had begun to recognize, since he and Kai had been forced to share a tent. He turned, but Kai was standing on his feet. He couldn't have been the source of the sound; and yet, there could be no mistake.

Oogway furrowed his brow. The lamps were dim here, and spaced out far, allowing them a good swath of darkness where they were. Kai was standing, yes, but he was leaning on his heels, and his head was lolling back on his shoulders. He reached up to shake him, just to see...

"Attention!"

Oogway jumped and immediately turned to salute to their superior officer. The rhino seemed to be glaring down at them suspiciously- but then Oogway remembered that it was quite dark out, and that was just his usual expression, besides. Even still, he prayed to the gods to have mercy, and not let him pay close attention. Oogway saw him turn his head sharply towards Kai, and then he realized in a panic that Kai, being asleep still, hadn't saluted.

Oogway surreptitiously reached over and puppeted Kai's elbow, jerking his arm in a way that would hopefully pass as a salute in the dark. It worked; their superior officer let out a pleased snort and nodded towards them.

"Very good," he said, "keep this vigilance up, and the two of you will go far. At ease, soldiers."

Then he turned on his heel and left. Only then did Oogway breathe out a sigh of relief. For the rest of the watch, he let Kai doze off, and took full advantage of the luxury of silence. He watched as the world lightened into gray around them, and a thin sliver of sun began to peek over the horizon. The shadow of a fellow soldier was coming over to relieve them, and only then did Oogway venture to wake Kai.

He nudged him so he almost tipped over. "Kai, wake up."

Kai stumbled, snorting, then looked at Oogway, blinking slowly. "Hrm?"

"Come on. Let's go to bed."

Kai yawned and nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Bed...? Hrm?...Sure, sounds good." He yawned again, stumbled, and then caught himself. Oogway then realized that Kai still wasn't entirely sober.

He sighed and took his arm, the dried mud from the rice patties crumbling into his palm where it wasn't completely matted in Kai's fur- but he could worry about getting him clean later. Right now, he just wanted to sleep. He guided them both through the maze of tents until finally finding their own, and he pushed Kai inside before going in himself. After that, he didn't bother with him anymore; he flopped onto his cot and retreated into his shell, ready to forget the world in hard-earned slumber.

But then he felt Kai's weight land heavily next to him, and then one of his arms laid over his shell and pulled him in close. At first Oogway could only lay there, paralyzed by confusion- and even further when Kai started making some sort of noise. It was soft, seeming to originate from deep in either Kai's belly or chest. It would start up one moment, continue in a low growl, then fade away before starting up again; but it wasn't snoring this time.

And that night, Oogway learned four things:

Kai was a light weight.

He was a cuddler.

He could sing.

And yaks purr.

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

I was going through my WIP folder and found this one which didn't get posted for the @harrypocter Winter Sun fest!

---

There’s an owl tapping at the window early in the morning on the second day of September. They’d sent kids off to school the day before, Freddie for his fifth year (with a cheeky grin that his namesake would be proud of) and Roxy for her first. She never expected a quiet life when she married George Weasley, and the house isn’t quiet by any means, they’ve got the radio playing, and George is in the kitchen, washing the dishes after breakfast, it does feel just a bit too big without the kids filling it up. 

Angelina looks up from the research paper she’s reading about new treatments for dragon pox and even from her place on the couch, and even in the early morning light she can easily recognise the Hogwarts crest on the envelope.

‘Your son must be trying to set some kind of record,’ she says, as George crosses the room to let the bird in, ‘did your poor mother ever get a letter before you’d even started classes for the year?’

‘Oh so when we get a letter from Hogwarts, he’s my son? I seem to remember that he was your son when he topped the year in potions last term.’ He says, dropping onto the couch next to her.

Angelina abandons her reading, curling her legs up as she leans into her husband's side. ‘What’s he done this time?’

George’s grin grows wide, ‘My son hasn’t done anything. Your daughter, on the other hand…’ she snatches the parchment from him.

‘Dear Mr & Mrs Weasley,

I regret to inform you that Roxanne, along with Miss Lily Potter and Mr Hugo Weasley, was discovered selling Weasley Wizard Wheezes products at a considerable markup after the feast last night. As you know, all Weasley Wizard Wheezes products are strictly forbidden at Hogwarts. Roxanne, Miss Potter and Mr Weasley will be joining me in Saturday detention where they can take the time to consider a more responsible use of their entrepreneurial talents while polishing the school trophies.

Yours in frustration,

Professor Neville Longbottom

Head of Gryffindor House’

Angelina started to grin as she read through the letter, laughing at Neville’s sign-off.

‘What are you so happy about?’ George asked, wrapping his arm around her.

Angelina kisses him quickly then stands to cross to their fireplace, reaching for the floo powder as she replies. ‘I get to coordinate howlers with Ginny and Hermione.’

[gauze-valley]

Whumperless Whump Event Day 1

Prompt: Emergency first aid, self done stitches

Finished my first post for @whumperless-whump-event's first prompt a liiittle late but I did it! This snippet is a precursor to. The only other thing I've written on this blog, which you can find here and here (in order!)

If u like the whole "caretaker has to care for themselves and suck it up so they can be there for people" trope, this might be for you!!

my stuff for this event probably won't be too polished, sorry about that! I'm just here to actually get myself to write :')

CW: Graphic description of self-suturing a wound, needles, graphic description of pain, laceration

[~1 and a half pages, 3rd person POV, OC/non-fandom]

If nothing else, at least the wound is only leaking. The stasis spell has held up surprisingly well, but the mirage-like waves in the magic aura around the wound tell Ira that he's made the right call in deciding it needs to be properly dealt with now, if the pain hadn't said as much already.

But he's exhausted. His limbs ache and there's a weight pulling on his body. He hasn't been off of his feet since early in the morning. A small reckless part of him says to recast the spell and lay down for a bit- what's the harm? He'll be closing this thing himself, and surely he could do it better with a little rest.

That'd be stupid, though. The overuse of healing magic is a risk for most already, let alone someone like Ira, whose mixed essentia halfway wants to reject every bit of holy magic that enters his body. He'll already be feeling the effects of this tomorrow, he's sure, and a second cast could put him entirely out of commission.

It's with a slow reluctance that he goes about cleaning the wound, sterilizing the area and wiping away the topmost layer of blood so he can actually see the edges More begins to seep out in response, but it's slow- the spell is still holding, and it's far more long than it is deep, so it seems safe to close. Unfortunately, the pain suppression is beginning to wear off, but that's all the more reason to get this over with.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, he tries to steel himself, conjure the motivation. He's done things like this before, in fact, he's done much worse procedures on himself than stitching a simple laceration, but his head is pounding and he just wants today to be over. Not that tomorrow will be any better. He's still needed- he won't be resting unless this gets much, much worse, and he intends not to let that happen.

Pushing the needle through the skin is easy. His hands are steady despite how worn and heavy they feel. They always are. Gritting his teeth through the pain, trying not to let the feeling of thread dragging through the punctures disrupt his focus, is much harder. Every sharp tug makes his skin crawl with disgust.

Ira resists the urge to rush it, because he's smarter than that and it's difficult enough to keep it neat considering the awkwardness of having to look down or look in the mirror for guidance, but fucking hell, every time this process is prolonged by having to clear away the blood again, he wants to scream.

Finally, he ties off the sutures, giving a relieved sigh that he immediately regrets as a dull pain shoots through his entire side. He carefully cleans the remaining blood once again and properly dresses the wound before throwing on a loose T-shirt. Now all he needs to do is clean up here before Six and Joy get back.

A ringing from the other room interrupts his thoughts. His phone. Muttering curses to himself, he walks over to snatch it off the bed and answers.

"Yes?"

"Chaplain Stepford, um, I'm sorry to bother you, but Chaplain Hart is busy and so is everyone else and-" Ira pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, it's Clea. Can the acolytes not go an hour without his supervision?

"Is it urgent?" He interrupts, his tone short and exasperated.

"Not… exactly right now, but it could be. I think Lane's making a bad call about something and he won't listen to me."

"About what exactly? Spit it out." God, he knows he should be receptive to his students coming to him for help, but just once it'd be so nice if literally anyone else could deal with it.

"He wants to completely seal a wound, because he thinks-"

That's all he needs to hear. Lane should know better, but of course he doesn't. Of course he'd not only overestimate his own skill but completely disregard all warnings about only using drastic magic when it's completely necessary. "No. No, absolutely not. Tell him that if he does that without my approval, I'm releasing him from my mentorship."

"I already tried telling him that that'd probably happen. He said I'm just upset because we have different ideas. Can you come talk to him?"

"I'll be there in less than ten. Make it very clear to him that his ass is expelled from the program if I get there and that wound is mended shut. He's far from skilled enough to attempt that, I don't care how much he's read about it. If he insists on being a moron before I can get there, find another chaplain immediately."

"Okay, thank you-" Ira hangs up before Clea can finish. Really, he should probably thank her for bringing this to his attention, but all he can think about right now is how much worse the pain is getting, and how long it'll be before he can collapse into bed, and the utterly overwhelming thought of being on his feet all day again tomorrow, but this time with a fresh wound.

Forcing himself to struggle back into his robes feels like a monumental task. He doesn't even bother to take off his casual clothes first, he just wants to get this over with quickly and without bending his side, as much as he can avoid it.

He pops a couple of over-the-counter painkillers before he leaves, hoping that'll be enough for now.

[elizabethplaid]

daily notes for Feb 1 and 2, 2024

Got the library keys to LL-K on Thursday. She's opening solo today (Sat, Feb 3rd), as I'm taking February off for mental health.

The 1st was spent revisiting my past-self. The 2nd was starting the new friendship bracelet. Discussion below the cut:

I spent that evening going over some of my old writing and old photos. I talked with my friend about how those stories are like a time capsule - a slice of our psyche, our mindset at the time. I cried as I read an affectionate scene. Not happy or sad tears, just reflective. I was really hurting at the time (senior year of high school, through college).

Reading that paired well with my recent discussions of my behavior at that time. It eased some of my regret and guilt, allowed me to forgive myself a bit more.

----------

As shown in the previous post, I started a new friendship bracelet on Feb 2nd. I like sharing these happy memories with these friends. I had to hide away my Alaska-childhood-self in order to survive adolescence in NC, so letting "her" out again, rejoicing in that past-self, means a lot to me.

That evening, we had another long phone call. Discussed writing techniques, how to develop styles and just get the words out, different work styles. My friend's more advanced in methods than I am, as my stories live in my head more than in text.

We discussed tarot/oracle cards again, revisiting my Grail Oracle spread from Tuesday and seeing the cards he recently drew. On a card he thought symbolized me, I saw a pair of fish with the Pisces sign next to them. I'm like, "You know my cats were born under Pisces, right? They're my fishy-cats." There were also shed deer antlers on that card, which felt like a sign. Both images appeared on other cards in the draw, too. But there were more symbols that didn't speak to either of us.

Both our draws discussed the need/quest for playfulness, amid other themes. I mentioned how I felt drawn to the Hermit card in the past, on the self-reflection in isolation. After all, that's how I lived in recent years, and it was the key to my development/growth/healing.

I like using tarot for reflection. I can analyze the heck out of stuff, but I need a starting point, eg a card or prompt.

========

When I woke up this morning, Feb 3rd, I decided to wear my henna choker right away. Then I added the bell-necklace AND my glasses? This is even more significant than wearing heavy earrings on a public-day! When I'm at home, I rarely wear my glasses, because of the weight on my face. I'm staying home for the next month, so really didn't have to wear my usual jewelry or glasses. The bridge of my nose is starting to hurt a tiny bit, but the necklaces still feel okay.

I plan to work on the bracelet more, maybe try some knitting if I need a break.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I had painted my nails again before last night's call. I couldn't find my old nail polish remover, and the one tiny jar I found wasn't working, so I just painted over the old chips. It's a neat effect, though it's a little silly on principal. So yeah, more nail polish, more jewelry, even heavy glasses. It feels good. :D

[tendertenebrosity]

This is a scene I’d meant to put in my old OC Dragon Age fanfic. I never got to the point in the story where it went, though. I remembered it last night and decided to polish it enough to post here.

Two mornings after he’d refused to let Petyr in, Reece was shaken awake by a mailed hand.

“Ah- !”

“Peace,” the templar said. “It’s all right. Get up. Your room is being searched this morning.”

Reece jerked upright in the bed and stared around, his heart hammering.

The room he’d been given when he passed the Harrowing was small and thin-walled – most nights Reece could hear his neighbours turn and sigh in their sleep. There was just enough space for a bed that was almost too short for him, and a chest for his clothes. He also had a wooden board that he’d scavenged from a storeroom, to lay across his knees as a makeshift desk.

Reece thought it was great. Sure, he could just about touch every wall without leaving the bed, but there were walls between him and other people. Apprentices couldn’t hold conversations over his head while he tried to sleep, or jostle his elbows, or put things in among his clothing. Small as the room was, it was more privacy than he’d had in nine years.

A pair of fully armoured templars filled it almost completely.

He pulled his sheet up to his chest, pointlessly. “But - what – why –”

“Spare us the bewildered twenty questions,” the other one drawled. Reece recognised him - perhaps his name was Carl? “Teresia, just take him out.”

“Come on,” the first templar, the one who’d shaken him awake, said. Her voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. “Up you get.”

“I – can I dress?”

“No.”

He got up, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, and was gently steered out of the room by Teresia. She sat him down on a bench in the hallway, still in his nightshirt, and stood there beside him with her arms folded. Nobody else was in the hall at this hour; the light coming through the window was pre-dawn grey.

“What’s going on? Why are you searching my room?” He crossed his arms and shivered, tucking his bare feet and ankles under the bench. Inside his room he could hear furniture being shifted.

The shock of being awoken suddenly began to give way to a deeper, colder fear.

“For contraband,” Teresia said brusquely.

“What do you mean, contraband…”

“Illicit books. Stolen items. Evidence of blood magic,” she said. “Don’t look so worried. If you’ve done nothing wrong you’ve nothing to fear.”

Reece realised that the Fade felt distant and dull. If he had been stupid enough to reach for magic now, he wouldn’t have been able to touch it. Tiresia was keeping it away, surrounding him in a magic-dispelling bubble.

He began, quietly, to panic.

There was no contraband in his room, he told himself. He would know if there was something in there! An illicit book? Even if the previous resident had left something, there was just nowhere for it to be for that long. But…

Some day, Reece, you might regret not having a friend in me. I only ever tried to help.  

His room had been empty all day yesterday. He wasn’t in the habit of locking it when he wasn’t there - who would take his things? It would have been easy for somebody to put something under his bed or in his clothes-chest while he was in the library teaching Emmit, or at dinner…

He buried his face in his hands and began to shake.

Teresia noticed. She crouched in front of him with a clatter of metal, so her face was almost level with his. “Mage, is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.

“What? No…”

She gave him a long, thoughtful look. Her eyes were bracketed with lines, but they weren’t hard or cruel. “Are you sure? If there’s something in that room, you’d do better to tell us now than have us pull it apart and find whatever it is anyway. I can tell the knight-Lieutenant you gave it up, and he’ll be much more inclined to go easy on you.”

“No! No.”

“Then why the shakes? You’ve nothing to fear.”  

“I just – I just – nobody’s ever wanted to search my things before, I don’t understand,” he said desperately. “I haven’t done anything wrong! What did I do to make you think I have something? You must have a reason…” Petyr could have engineered this somehow, but if so what had he told them?

She stood. “Maybe. Perhaps we just like to keep mages on their toes.”

Carl appeared in the doorway. “What do you think?” he asked, showing Tiresia a handful of papers.

Reece sucked in a breath, not daring to object. Be careful, he wished he could say. The topmost paper was a drawing that Cora had done; the only one he still had. It was crumpled slightly from Carl’s grip. Please. That’s precious.

Tiresia flicked through the papers briskly.

“Look at that one,” Carl pointed out.

She flipped the paper to look at its back, found nothing and flipped it back. Held it up against the light from the window. Apparently satisfied there wasn’t any other writing there, she put it down. “It’s the Chant. Canticle of Trials. What about it?”

“Who has handwritten scripture tacked up on their walls?” Carl said, his face screwed up a little with suspicion. “That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

Reece blinked hard, wrapping his arms around himself. Both templars glanced at him thoughtfully.

“It’s mine,” Reece said in response, hearing how small and unsteady his own voice was. “It’s… my favourite stanza…” I thought nobody else would ever see it. Put it back, please.

Tiresia shrugged, handed the papers back to Carl. “Suspiciously pious isn’t something you can take to the Lieutenant, Carl,” she said dryly. “Is this all?”

Carl shrugged. “Yeah, nothing. There’s a hideyhole behind the bed, but it’s empty.”

Tiresia nodded, and gestured for Rill to get up and come back into his room. He did so, cold relief passing over him in waves. They had found nothing?

Well, of course they’d found nothing. There was nothing to find. But for a moment he’d been so afraid…

His chest stood open and empty, robes and blankets strewn across the room. The small chair was overturned and the rug pulled up to reveal the bare stone. His bed was pulled away from the wall and the mattress lay on the floor - it had been slit open and straw poked out of it.  

Carl poked a pile of bedlinens with one boot, then let the papers flutter down onto it. “Looks like you’re clean, mage. Sorry for the mess, but you’ll soon have it back to rights.”

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you,” Tiresia added. “Good day.”  

They left. Rill stood and looked around the wreckage of his room, feeling sick. He knelt and poked at the mattress – how was he supposed to fix that? He supposed he would have to get a replacement from the storerooms.

He picked up the drawing and smoothed it with shaking fingers, looking around for a flat surface to put it down on and finding nothing. He set the chair upright and sank down into it.

Petyr had only been trying to frighten him.

It was working.

[olet-lucernam]

progress update : A Hollow Promise, CH6

current word count: 10,147 estimated percentage completion: 30%

progress notes: ahhh i hit 10K!!! i finally finished that scene that was giving me trouble in tying off (it'll probably get some editing/polishing up later because i'm like that but hey the Stuff is There to edit now) and moved onto the next scene, which i'm about halfway through

honestly i feel like that completion percentage might be s l i g h t l y optimistic though? i can think of at least t w e l v e more plot beats that i absolutely have to hit before the end of the chapter, and we've hit about... four. so far. (look to be honest it's closer to- fifteen?? that i need to get through?) but i already split this damn chapter in half once already , so i really don't want to slice it up again

in my defence i am covering three years worth of events in one big timeskip montage, and hitting major plot points from three phase 2 mcu films, plus part of one of the tv spinoffs (im2, s1 of aos, t:tdw, and ca:tws), and extra bulk of my own. and literally all of it is going to be Important in one way or another so there's not much i can cut down on. the only option would be to divide it up again and i don't really wanna

but. readability. updating at a reasonable time. hrgfhj.

if i do split it- eh. i think i'll style it as though ch5+ch6 are a split chapter, and ch7+ch8 are a second split chapter (instead of ch5+ch6+ch7 being three parts of one chapter, if that makes sense). if this one gets too bloated, i think i can afford to do it that way? thematically and plot-wise, it should work and slot together neatly enough. so this chapter (ch6) would likely cut off around about the end of t:tdw or just before ca:tws, with ch7 picking up in the aftermath, and ch8 continuing the transition into the main plot. (that would give me about- eight or nine plot points to hit in ch6? which is closer to the completion percentage ratio, assuming each plot point takes up about the same wordcount/time to complete)

on the note of "why are my chapters so fUCKING LONG"- i think i am going to start posting the fic on tumblr, starting sunday

except bc of differences between ao3 and tumblr formatting, i will split the chapters up into smaller tumblr posts, so tumblr doesn't lag while ppl are scrolling through my verbose nonsense.

hence- if i have finished sections of a chapter that is overall unfinished, those polished sections might get posted early to tumblr. whereas ao3 will only get updated once i have the whole thing done. (conversely, tho, ao3 will have the full thing up ahead of tumblr, until the release schedule here catches up)

is only a possibility for now. have not decided. am too tired to decide so this is getting tossed on the bb-queue to roast overnight (i'll regret the dumb pun in the morning) and i'm getting some sleep. night

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Stranger Things (Steve and Eddie) for 87

Send me a ship (or fandom) and a number between 1 & 101, and I’ll use my Spotify Wrapped as fic inspo

87 - IS IT ME - Loveless

Note: This is post-season 4 canon compliant. It isn't Steddie so much as Steve realizing what Steddie could have been. I hurt myself a little writing it, so while it isn't the angstiest thing ever written, you've been warned. This one might get polished and posted to AO3 at some point.

The aftermath of their battle goes much the same Steve as it always does. He lets Nancy and the others fuss over him medically. Then he goes home to an empty house. He scrubs off the Upside Down grime in the shower and redresses his own wounds after. He goes to bed and tries to pretend the nightmares won’t wait him up the moment he managed to push the images away and try to sleep.

It won’t work. It never does.

But he’s also never had to deal with one of the images in that memory collection being the one where he drags Dustin away from a friend’s corpse.

They should have brought him back. Closing portals be damned.

But Steve had been too focused on keeping Dustin off his ankle and trying to block out that haunted look on Eddie’s face, the blood soaking down the shredded remains of his front.

Steve has always done a good job of looking affected. Even after the Russians, no one had known he woke up screaming every night for over a month. His parents hadn’t been around, so Steve didn’t even need an excuse.

Now, though, he struggles getting up for work in the mornings. It all feels so pointless.

Eddie had finally been about to graduate—a man full of life and vitality and direction. Maybe he hadn’t known where, but Steve knows he was going somewhere, going to do something special. He’d never given much thought to Eddie Munson before all this, and now he regrets it. He should have given him a chance, should have basked in a little of the warmth he gave off even as he tried to look like the kind of guy who would push everyone away.

He has a panic attack for the first time at work. Some klutzy middle schoolers knock over an entire shelf, and instead of berating them, Steve drops to the ground at the sound, unable to breathe. His heart is too loud, like it’s trying to beat up and out his throat.

“Steve?” Robin says, and she almost start hyperventilating with him as she babbles and tries to pull him back from the edge.

In the end, it isn’t Robin who helps him. It’s a whisper in the back of his mind, a memory of Eddie saying, “We aren’t heroes.” They were. He was. And here’s Steve unable to get through the day. But if Eddie can face insurmountable odds knowing he’s not going to make it (because Dustin could tell; it was all over his face), Steve can make himself take a breath. And another. And another.

“Oh thank god!” Robin’s voice is loud in his ear, and Steve flinches away from her.

“You’re okay,” she says, and Steve really needs her to stop talking. “You’re having a perfectly normal reaction to the amount of trauma you’ve gone through. It’s fine. We’re fine. We’ll kick those kids out of the store and clean up the display. It’ll be fine.”

“Go deal with them,” he manages to mutter. Although Steve doesn’t tell Robin he needs her to get out of his space right now, she seems to understand.

By the time she’s sent the kids out the door, Steve’s ready to drag himself back to his face. He can do this.

Within a couple weeks, he’s realized he can’t do this. Steve spends most of his time at work wondering how he’s ended up in a dead-end job stuck in his home town and the rest of it panicked that someone will need hima nd he won’t immediately be there. Even lying on his couch at home (because it’s closer to the door than his bedroom if someone needs him), Steve wonders what would happen if his walkie died, if the kids didn’t have time to radio, if he’s the one who gets flayed, Venca’d, or whatever the next hellish trick is they’ll have to go up against.

He won’t be enough. Steve knows he won’t be.

He won’t be in the right place, with the right group. He’s avoiding the hospital because he wasn’t there to help protect Max from Jason or Venca, and he’s avoiding Dustin because he wasn’t there to stop Eddie from sacrificing himself. At the same time, he can’t stand not to see them.

Steve knows he’s spiraling. He would have known that even if Robin hadn’t so helpfully pointed it out. Still, he doesn’t know how to stop it.

He doesn’t know how to deal with any of it.

“He kept flirting with you the last few days,” Dustin says when he’s finally cornered Steve and guilted him into dinner.

Steve choked on his food.

“Did you notice that?”

Steve attempts to swallow. “Yeah, I might have noticed.”

“Were you flirting back?”

Steve takes a drink not to stall this conversation but to keep his throat from closing up. “I don’t know.”

“If he had survived, would you have?”

“Maybe.”

“You’d have matching scars if he had.”

Dustin says it so casually, like it’s just a fact, not like it’s a bomb that sets Steve off, has him crumbled and sobbing in an old diner booth.

People look at them curiously. Dustin doesn’t show anything on his face to say he’s surprised. They must assume it’s normal.

For Steve, it has become normal.

Everyone else seems to be handling this the way they always do. There are nightmares, of course, and hard moments during the day, but no one else is struggling like Steve. Maybe he’s just taken on too much. Maybe he was always going to hit this point eventually.

He sees flashes of what his life should be. He sees big brown eyes and a wicked smile. Long ringed fingers moving across a guitar Steve has to share affection with. Nights spent curled up together. This was never his life. He can’t assume it would have been. But he can imagine it so clearly that it almost feels like a memory of what he never got. What he never gets.

Eddie is dead.

The man Steve could have fallen in love with his gone. And he’s partially responsible because he should have planned better. He should have insisted on being with the distractions because they were taking on too much. He should have known better. He didn’t. Now that’s his knowledge to be haunted with. Steve’s not as smart as the people around him. He’s stuck, treading water on a lake where he might be pulled it by demobats at any moment.

And he’s the only one who hurts like this.

[shotorozu]

you like their hands

character(s) : todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (1/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk’s not specific

post type : headcanons; accompanied with a small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice not nsfw]

note(s) : i was thinking about todo’s hands today— also i’ll be adding pictures of what i think their hand looks like so.. 😳

»»————-　♡　————-««

todoroki shouto

i’d like to believe that shouto’s hands would be long and pretty— kinda like how i’d imagine akaashi and kageyama’s hands

but have y’all seen that man’s hands in the anime and manga 😳 they’re not really what i’d call them “long”

so i had to find a mid point, kinda like a fusion of both.

his hands are either really pale, or the knuckles are just really red

moving on..

you have a weird infactuation with his hands, and you were gonna tell him! but you just didn’t know when

he didn’t really get it at first??

yes, he will respect and properly entertain your interests. but.. his hands? he doesn’t get that part yet

shouto can say he takes care of them well. washing his hands at least 3 times a day, and applying lotion on them with the slightest mint scent in it

and he takes care of his hands because he needs to rely on them everytime he uses his quirk.

speaking of quirk— his hands are either scorching to the touch, or cold.

so the first time he reaches out for your hand, you just.. freeze?? you were talking about something random while walking with him

then he just suddenly reached for your hand

seeing your reaction, he’s like.. “oh. my hand must be too cold for them. gotta switch.”

then he switches hands, holding your hand with his left. and you’re still the same, and it appears to be that switching didn’t really help

scenario

“what’s wrong, love?” he pulls you aside, staring at your expression— seeing that you became stiff when he reached for your touch.

you want to downplay the entire situation, really. but shouto doesn’t budge, that’s just who he is, and he’s still left wondering what’s wrong, and if he did something.

that is until you mention his hands, and that you like them

“your hands.. are really nice i guess,” you avert your gaze “i like them.” you say in almost a whisper like tone.

he sighs in relief. and he feels better that it’s not about the fact that you hate the temperature of his hands, since they’re either abnormally sahara desert hot or cold like fresh snow on a december morning.

his cheeks flare pink for a moment, in sudden realization “y-you like my hands?” shouto asks this as a confirmation, hoping that he actually heard it correctly.

but when you nod, he takes full advantage— entertaining your interest in his hands to his best abilities

he smiles when he sees your expression change when he brushes the back of your hand with his own. then, he finally holds your hand— the coolness of his right hand is making you hyper aware

your heart only pounds faster against your chest, when he presses his lips to the back of your hand, maintaining eyecontact as he does soz

after dating you, he paints his nails with clear nail polish. it makes him feel better knowing that they’ll stay clean even with all the hectic training

to calm you down, he likes to rub his thumb against your cheek— his quirk slightly activating while he stares into your eyes

a little spicy; but whenever you eat your desert during a date, he will wipe the excess off the side of your lips, and ask you to lick it off.

is he teasing you? or is he serious? we will never know.

bakugou katsuki

SCREAMs

bakugou’s hands are big, and his veins are prominent— but not too veiny to the point it’s concerning.

he sometimes likes wearing rings but.. that’s just sometimes

his hands are strangely soft, especially the palms— but he could say there’s some rough spots here and there, but he’d guess it’s because of his quirk.

bakugou’s hands are always warm and sweaty, which he never actually cared about— until he started dating you

he’s kinda worried that you wouldn’t wanna hold his hand, but you can say it’s actually the opposite?

you really like his hands.. but you’re just scared of getting judged

so when he reaches for your hand, you try to pretend that he wasn’t? you turn your head away— trying to not look the slightest bit of dazed

scenario

“what’s up with you?” bakugou interrogates you, his ruby irises glaring into your eyes— his voice gruff

“what?” you question, the sudden action was out of the blue— and you hold in your breath when his hands cage you in, large hands pressed on the wall behind you

“HAH?” he yells, not amused by your sudden oblivion, “don’t act dumb,” he grits his teeth “spit it out, and tell me what’s wrong.”

“nothing’s wrong, suki— i don’t really follow?” you try to convince him that no, i’m totally not afixiated with something about you, even though you’re my boyfriend; i don’t wanna admit that. however— you’re not very slick.

“tch, fucking liar.” his eyes narrow, “if you hate my fuckin’ hands, then i prefer it if you were honest about it.”

“sorry, but what?” you blink, suddenly appalled by his words, “hate.. your hands?”

“because that’s what it is, huh?” he moves even closer to you, practically inches away; and you can only pray that he can’t hear the rather loud beating of your heart. “my hands are so sweaty that you don’t wanna touch em, is that it?”

you’re agitated by his misunderstanding, and you sigh; finally deciding to come clean. “fine! fine. i like your hands.”

you didn’t mean to make it sound that upfront.

bakugou blinks, the sudden tension releasing into thin air, his expression left almost as equally surprised as you.

“tch. so that’s how it is,” he smirks, and by the way it looks— you suddenly regret telling him that.

well.. not really?

he actually takes advantage of that, making sure you remember his hands nicely.

when he sits next to you on the couch, he’ll throw his beefy ass arm around your shoulders like usual. then, he’ll run his hand up and down, making sure you’re aware of his touch.

bakugou will be THAT BITCH that’ll gesture you to come over so he could kiss you,

and when you’re leaning in— he’ll pinch your cheek, a sly grin on his face.

a little spicy; but he’s the type to rest his hand on your neck when you guys kiss <3 ugh

but overall— he’s really glad you actually like his hands, and it wasn’t like you hated them at all

but GOSH he just wished you told him from the start >:T

midoriya izuku

less veins, but.. DAMN THEY’RE KINDA THICK?? not too thick but.. have you seen his hands in the manga??

of course— his hands are rough, with a bunch of scars from his quirk. which he was kinda conscious about

but he tries hard to take care of them outside of combat things in fights; if they’re damaged then.. oh well

he definitely fiddles with pencils, and when he’s studying— the chance of him having a silver’s hand is likely (the thing where the graphite smeers on the back of your hand) he hates that shit

he definitely has a writer’s callus. PROVE ME WRONG!! that man writes a lot, and so do i so 😌 twinsies

but he tries to keep them clean, and he wants to make them feel less rough— so he will invest in some hand cream

compared to the other two, midoriya’s hands are normal in temperature.

but his grip is firm but he doesn’t really realize it sometimes.

you like his hands because.. the detail on his hands leave you mesmerized

but you don’t really wanna weird him out or make him uncomfortable. since he gets really flustered quick.

and you don’t want him to just stare at his hands and think about your fascination about them. no distractions

but he gets real pouty when you pull away

scenario

“hey Y/N, do you.. hate holding hands with me?” izuku asks one day, when you guys are studying in your room

“what?” you tilt your head, really surprised by his question— since you guys sat in silence for the last few minutes. you can feel the edge in your stomach grow when he mentions his hands.

“you always pull away when i try to hold your hand.” you gesture him to continue what he’s saying, and he continues “ but i get it though! my hands are.. scarred, rough. they’re kinda ugly compared to the rest of the guys.” he’s rambling, and you can’t help but feel really saddened.

“izuku, no.” you shake your head, “your hands aren’t ugly. yeah, they may be scarred and all— but they saved a lot of people, it saved eri, and it helped you get to where you are today.”

izuku’s cheeks flush with red, and he can’t say that you’re wrong. but; though he’s provided with reassurance, that’s not the answer he wanted

“but why won’t you hold my hand?”

“because i..” averting your eyes to the wall behind him, you’re looking for the right words. “i like your hands. i didn’t want to make you feel weird because of me.”

you look at his face after the confession, and it’s just ingulfed in a red shade.

on the contrary, this makes him like his hands more. everytime he looks at his hands, he’ll be motivated by your words.

but he’ll be a little shy with acting on it at first; especially in public

but fear not! izuku may seem innocent, but he also knows what he’s doing so.. don’t be decieved

when he’s studying, he’ll write with his right hand, and feed you little snacks with his left hand— urging you to open your mouth and take the snack

after sparring with you he’ll comment on how you did so good, also while placing his hands on your shoulder— massaging any sore parts

a little spicy, but when you guys are kissing, HIS HANDS WILL ROAM TO PLACES. pulling you closer as he attacks your lips

overall— he might be a little shy at first, but he can say he’s pretty accepting of your interest in his hands. it makes him feel better about the appearance of his hands.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i don’t profit off of my hobby.

do not reupload, translate, and use my work for any reading videos without my consent. do not plagiarize my work :))

[duuhrayliegh]

dm slide

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, language, nothing else really, it’s just really fluffy i think

word count: 1905

a/n: okay so my other stuff is coming, i stg, i’m just in the middle of finals and moving out of my dorm, and starting a new job, so i’m a bit stressy right now, but i’m getting there loves.

so if this one isn’t as good as it could be that’s why, but i’m hoping to add on to it later

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

You were currently at your best friend’s birthday party, polishing off your third overfull glass of wine. Your best friend threw her hands above her head, shouting out “Shots on me!” She thrusted a shot glass in your hand, encouraging you to toss back the liquid. You set down your wine glass, picking up the smaller cup, not caring about the flashing cameras around you.

“I’m so glad you were able to get free from your oh so lavish lifestyle as a celebrity to come hang out with little ‘ol me!” She had to continue to shout for you to hear her over the loud music blasting through the club speakers. She grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the bathrooms. “Are you getting ready to go? The sound system is giving me a headache.” You smiled at her, grabbing your phone from your clutch.

“Absolutely, babes. Let me order the Uber and then we can go.” You held onto your phone tighter, walking up to the bar to settle your tab. “Hey, Gabe!” Gabe, one of the bartenders, turned to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” He went to grab a bottle of your favorite wine to uncork it, but stopped when you held your hand up.

“Just settling up and heading out.” You passed your black AmEx card over the counter to his waiting hand.

“You’re missin’ out, Y/N. The party is just getting started here.” You shook your head at the man.

“Nah, I’m celebrating my best friend’s birthday tonight, so this is her call.” He slid your card back to you, watching you push it into the slots of your clutch. “We’re getting outta here, but that doesn’t mean our party is ending.” You winked at him, meeting up with your companion. You linked arms with her, leading the way through the crowd. It was cold outside, which didn’t mean good things for you because of your almost too short dress. The Uber stopped beside the curb, rolling their window down for you to double check. You climbed in beside your friend, scooting closer to increase your warmth. The ride to your apartment wasn’t too long, thankfully because Uber’s creeped you out, no matter how safe you were.

Walking into your apartment was difficult to say the least. You both were stumbling the entire way to the elevator and then stumbling into your couch cushions. The two of you managed to make it to your bedroom, swapping out your tight garments for some more ill fitting attire. That was not before you took an absurd amount of photos together in your bathroom mirror. You sat across from each other on the black couch in your apartment, sifting through the pictures of the two of you. Your best friend was leaned over your shoulder, watching as you scrolled through.

“Oo! That one!” She pointed at the screen quickly, stopping your scrolling. It was of you holding the phone, leaning backward staring at the phone in your hand. Your best friend was facing you, her bare back displayed from the deep dip in the back of her dress. “We look so hot.” You both shared a look and then burst into a fit of laughter. You posted the picture to your Instagram, tagging your best friend in the corner, wishing her a happy birthday. She slid away from your, covering her lower half with a blanket.

“You want a water?” You asked as you rose from your spot on the couch. She smiled big at you.

“Can I convince you to mix up some margaritas?” Her bottom lip rolled inwards, waiting for  your response. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head before opening your liquor cabinet. You pulled down bottles of triple sec and tequila, reaching into your freezer for the bag of strawberries and limeade. You brought your Ninja Bullet out to make individual margaritas for both you and your drunk friend. Walking back over to her with containers in hand, you plopped opposite her on the couch.

“You’re literally the bestest ever.” She slurped on the drink through her swirly straw. The conversation faded between the two of you, allowing the both of you to go through your socials. “Did you see that Lizzo got a message back from Chris Evans the other day?” You laughed at her question, remembering your reaction to Lizzo’s TikTok.

“Mhm. Can you imagine getting a reply back from one of those hunks of men?” She shook her head while guzzling her margarita.

“I can’t, but I bet you can.” You scrunch your brows at her and she groaned. “You’re a celebrity too, dumbass. Girl, the amount of times that I’ve gotta remind you of that is insane.” You laughed at her, rolling your eyes.

“Babes, just because I’m quote, unquote famous, doesn’t mean that I’m on their level.” She pointed a finger at you.

“Hey, just shoot your shot, Y/N.”

“I literally don’t even know which one I would DM.” Your best friend scoffed loudly.

“Bullshit!” You choked at how loud she yelled. “You don’t know who you would DM? I know who you would DM in a fucking heartbeat.” You looked over at her with raised brows and in unison you said. “Sebastian Stan.” “Sebastian Stan.”

“Mm, he is a six foot tall Romanian God.” You shook your head while fake moaning, your friend laughing in the background. She reached for your phone before you could protest, typing away on your keyboard, smiling mischievously. She thrust the phone back into your hands, the empty DM screen of imsebastianstan on Instagram staring back at you.

“All you gotta do is send something.” She smiled at you while you glanced down at your phone screen nervously. You began typing something quickly then locked the screen, placing it facing downward on your lap, a giggly smile resting on your face. She scooted closer to you, folding her legs up to her chin. “Wait! What did you say?” You unlocked your phone, showing her the screen. She laughed at your message, drinking the rest of her margarita.

y/n.y/l/n: hi, i’m y/n and you’re the love of my life ;) <3

“That’s so fucking good, oh my God.” She glanced at the clock on your phone. “Oh girl, we’ve gotta go to sleep.” You checked it as well, dropping your head into your hands.

“Mhm, you’re right.” You stood from your spot, holding your hand out to your friend to help her up. “Let’s go to sleep.” You both crashed on your king sized mattress underneath your white fluffy duvet. You were about to drift off to sleep, when your best friend’s voice floated into your ears.

“Do you think he’s gonna reply to you?” Her voice was slurring more and more from the amount she drank and the sleep weighing on her mind. You smiled at her, it was a long shot that he would even see it, much less reply.

“We’ll have to see, babes.” She didn’t reply to you as you both fell off into a dreamless abyss.

********************

The sun streaming into your room woke you up in the morning, light hitting your eyelid just right. You blinked harshly, bringing your hand up to block the glare. A groan escaped your lips, stretching out from your best friends grip. “Fuck me.” You held your head in your hand, groaning about the headache blossoming at the nape of your neck. You left the bed, pulling a sweater over your tank top to catch some warmth. You tucked your phone into the waistband of your shorts. You padded into the kitchen, grabbing your Advil bottle, dumping two pills into your hand. You got a glass of water, settling down on the couch after gulping down the headache medicine.

You opened your phone while basically inhaling your water. Your memories of last night were fuzzy, you drank quite a bit. Did you drink too much? Maybe… but did you regret it at all? Not a second of it. You had the best time hanging out with your best friend. You check your Instagram post, replying to several different comments. A red bubble was pinned over your DM button in the corner. You tilted your head in curiosity, wondering who messaged you now. You swiped over, eyes widening at the new message.

imsebastianstan: Hi, Y/N. I’m Sebastian, thank you for professing your love to me.

The feeling of panic running through your veins didn’t last long, A gigantic smile spread accompanied by a giggle. What the fuck do you do now? Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard, thinking through what you want to say back.

y/n.y/l/n: hello sebastian, what do ya say we  figure out if it’s a match :)

You sent the message before you could chicken out, locking the phone shortly after, shoving it in your waistband. You got up, refilling your glass of water, leaning against your granite countertop, tapping your fingers impatiently. You squealed as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

imsebastianstan: What do you have in mind?

y/n.y/l/n: 917-555-0545 <3

Oh my god, you can’t believe you just did that. Holy shit, what are you thinking? Maybe this will all work out in your favor. You really had nothing to lose but your dignity, right? A disturbance in the peace to the right of your caught your attention.

“Why the hell are you up so early? We drank last night, that’s an excuse to sleep in, you fuck baffoon.” Her hair was tousled on top of her head, shirt hanging off one shoulder. You turned your phone around, thrusting it towards her face.

“There’s been recent developments on the Stan front.” Her brows raised, face becoming shocked.

“Oh. My. God. Are you fucking serious?” She snatched the phone away from your hand quickly to scroll through the messages. “You gave him your number?” She yelled at you as she stretched across the couch, laying her head in your lap. Your phone buzzed in her hands and her eyes widened to unbelievable proportions. “Bitch, you just got a text from an unsaved number.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You looked at the phone in her hands. “I didn’t think he was actually going to text me, I sent it as a joke! What’s it say?”

“How are we going to figure this out?” You both shared a look, shrieking enthusiastically. “Y/N! Sebastian Stan texted you!” She jumped up and down on your couch, pulling you up with her.

“What do I say back?” You held the phone against your chest, staring expectantly at your best friend. She shook her head at you.

“Nuh-uh girl. This is all you.” She held her hands up in surrender. You looked down at your keyboard, the blinking cursor waiting for instructions.

“Okay, okay, how ‘bout, ‘discuss over coffee?’” You looked at your best friend for approval, still standing on your couch. You sent the message after she nodded. A message bubble popped up, three blinking dots inside.

There’s a coffee shop on 8th street,  just outside of Washington State Park.

wanna meet up around three?

I’ll be there, Y/N.

You turned to your best friend, holding the phone to your chest. “Babes.” She raised her brows, waiting. “I have a fucking date with Sebastian Stan!” You both squealed, excited for what would happen on your date.

[mca-attack21]

Damsel in Distress part I

This is a two part Arthur Pendragon x Reader based on the season two episode four of the show. Enjoy! Also you can find more of my writing here: Masterlist

Merlin woke up to a feeling of foreboding. There was something in the air that made his stomach turn with dread. As he prepared to go wake his clotpole of a master, he tried to push this feeling out of the forefront of his mind. But even as he made it down to the kitchen there was this sense of apprehension in the air. He hoped that he would run into you somewhere in the halls and that you would be able to set his mind at ease. He however was not so fortunate.

Instead, he trudged onward, setting Arthur’s food down and opening his curtains before declaring a half-hearted, “Rise and Shine” before quickly gathering some of his clothes to be washed. Arthur didn’t even have time to come up with a jest before Merlin was out of the door. Merlin busied himself, quickly polishing Arthur’s armor and completing other daily chores. He mentally prepared himself to deal with the prince as returned to his door.

“Ah, there you are, I was beginning to think you were avoiding your duties. And what’s this?” he asked, watching as Merlin laid everything out, “You’re actually doing your job for once? Are you feeling alright?” Arthur joked.

His smile soon turned to a frown as Merlin ignored his comments. He shrugged it off and allowed Merlin to help him dress and put on his armor. While Arthur was looking over some papers on his table he noticed that Merlin had already made his bed and was starting to take the dishes from the table.

“Merlin, clearly something is upsetting you,” Arthur pointed out.

“It’s nothing sire, do you need anything else?” Merlin asked with his back against the door.

“No, that will be all,” Arthur dismissed, sending a concerned glance towards his friend as he exited.

Merlin took leave and went back to his chambers to help Gaius. He tried to occupy his mind, but nothing he did seemed to ease that burning pit in his stomach. Something had happened, was happening, or was about to happen, he could feel it.

Somewhat abruptly, he decided that he needed to see you. He went to seek out Morgana, as you were filling in for Gwen while she was taking care of her brother. He knew that wherever Morgana was, you wouldn’t be far away.

It was in his search that he saw a few of the knights rushing for an audience with the king. Something had happened. Merlin followed at a close distance and listened in.

“As you know Sire Morgana, her maid, and a few knights rode for a pilgrimage to her father’s grave early this morning. They were meant to be back by now, but there is no word or sign of them. That was until one of the patrols came across one of the knight’s horses. I am afraid something went wrong..”

“Send men out immediately. Arthur, you will lead the search, do whatever you must to bring her home,” the King ordered concerned for his young ward.

“Of course father,” Arthur answered before hastily making an exit. Merlin was right on his heels, and left to prepare their horses.

---

The mercenaries had both you and Morgana in a tent with a guard posted right outside the doors. The two of you had come up with a plan, it was risky at best. However you were both aware of the fact that the further away from Camelot you traveled, the less likely you were to ever see it again.

“Are you ready for this?” Morgana asked, preparing herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

She was about to step forward when you grabbed her arm, “No matter what happens, I want you to take any opportunity you get. Don’t worry about me. Promise.”

“There is no way I’m leaving without you.”

“Morgana, you have to promise me. I cannot bear the risk otherwise.”

“I promise, but only as long as you promise me the same. We take any opportunity we get.”

With that, the plan was in motion. Morgana demanded that she be allowed to bathe and you both were escorted to the river by two of the men. You took the distraction of her undressing to manage to disarm one of the men and tossed Morgana the sword just in time for her to take out the other. The two of you started running back towards the castle, but there was another mercenary that intercepted you. Being as you were the one with the sword you opted to fight him, thankful for the many hours you had spent training with Arthur when you were younger. Morgana turned back to help you.

“Go, I will be right behind you!” you shouted, watching her hesitate, “Morgana go! Now!”

She turned and ran only looking back when she heard your scream in the distance. She quickly picked up her pace again and ran without looking back. She pushed through the aching in her muscles until she was faced with a crossbow aimed at her face. Relief filling her features as soon as she saw its holder.

“Where’s Y/n?” Arthur asked immediately.

Morgana merely shook her head and Arthur turned before his face could give him away. Merlin pushed down his own feelings and went to Morgana to make sure she was okay and offer her water and food. They set off immediately for the castle and soon came the reunion between Uther and Morgana. She begged him to send out another search party for you, after all you had saved her life.

“I am not going to waste the time and resources on a servant girl who has most likely already been executed as she provides no worth to the mercenaries without you,” he explained to Morgana. The words cut Arthur deeper than any sword ever had.

“Please, there is still a chance. Arthur?” she turned towards him hoping he would take her side.

“I’m sorry Morgana, father is right” Arthur managed before turning and exiting a very angry Merlin on his heels.

“How could you say that? How could you possibly agree with him after everything that you and Y/n have been through? I knew you were a clotpole, but this, this is unforgivable!” Merlin all but shouted.

“Merlin Shut Up!” Arthur raised his volume before regaining his composure as he entered his chambers, “Of course I don’t agree with father, but there was no point in making a scene about it. We will pack and leave at first light. We will find her, one way or another.”

Merlin was speechless for a moment, before uttering an apology for overreacting before. He was then quick to leave and make the preparations for the next day as it was already early night.

The next morning he was surprised to see that Arthur had managed to not only wake himself up, but dress himself. He was looking over maps as Merlin entered. Soon the two of them were off on their quest to save the damsel in distress. The rode for the better part of the day before coming to a caves that were inhabited by wilddeoren. As they made it through the other side Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, “I can’t believe the Gaia berries actually worked.”

“Hold up, you mean to tell me that you didn’t know that they would work before you lead us in a cave with giant flesh eating rats!”

“I mean not for sure, I heard stories, but I figured we’d find out one way or another.”

“Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that wilddeoren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't've risked your life like that,” Arthur said a new hint of seriousness in his voice.

“I didn’t realize that even the great Arthur Pendragon could fall victim to the blindness of love,” Merlin joked.

“What in the world are you going on about?

“Your feelings for Y/n. Why can’t you admit that you like her? I mean you are risking your life and even your father’s wrath just for a one in a hundred chance of rescuing her.

Arthur scoffed rolling his eyes, “She is just a friend, I’d do the same for you. In fact I seem to remember disobeying my father before in order to get you an antidote when you decided to get a few days off my drinking out of a poisoned chalice.”

“That was different and you know it. Besides, anyone who has ever seen the two of you together can pick up on it. Why is it so hard to admit you like her? It’s only me, just say it,” Merlin encouraged.

“I can't! How can I admit that I think about her all the time. Or that...I care about her more than anyone. How can I admit that...I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her?” Arthur confessed struggling to keep his emotion in check.

“Why can't you?”

“Because nothing can ever happen between us! To admit my feelings knowing that...hurts too much.”

“Who's to say nothing can happen?”

“My father won't let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he'd let me marry one?”

“You want to marry Y/n?”

“No! I mean maybe someday...I...I don't know...Regardless, it's all talk, and that's all it can ever be.”

“When you're King, you can change that. If she feels the same way, she would wait for you.”

“I can't expect her to do that, it’s not fair to her. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive,” he said regretting the words even as they left his mouth because they caused his stomach to drop.

“I’m sure she’s fine Arthur. She knows that you’ll come for her and that hope will keep her alive.”

The words seemed to offer Arthur some comfort, “Come on. We've got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.”

“You mean more than you do now?” Merlin joked, earning a playful smack from his friend.

[aknosde]

Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

The first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Percy Jackson & Reyna Avilla Ramírez Arellano // Hurt - Comfort // roughly two or three days post-Tartarus // tw vomiting & tw implied/referenced past child sexual assault // light swearing // 3.4k

(hey, @specific-dreamer, i started writing it :))

ao3

—————

Reyna exits her bed smoothly, flicking on the lamp as she goes. At night, when her cabin feels too dark and too small, the light is one of her only wards against her stiff spine and the shake of her shoulders. She ghosts her hands through her closet, searching for something thick and substantial, like the light and the reassuring click of the lock as she opens her door.

The floor of the quarter deck is cold under her bare feet, but the polished wood is soothing in its smoothness. She tugs on her sweatshirt against the cool temperature that accompanies flying far above the warm Mediterranean. Someone must have screwed with the thermostat last night–tonight–otherwise it would be compensating for the chill in the air.

It doesn’t affect the rest of the ship. The wood doesn’t contract or expand under the temperature, the boat doesn’t creak. It’s immune to the cold air and warm water in that way. She can’t quite decide if the silence that accompanies it is comforting or not as she descends to the main deck.

All of the lights are on down here, the rooms devoid of people. She knows that the lights of the lower deck will be off, because Leo sleeps down in the engine room, but the main deck is no man's land at this time of night. Someone has swept the floors, and with the lights on and undisturbed by organic shadow, this level seems more like a model of a ship than somewhere where people live. When the feeling turns from interesting to uncanny she finishes her route to the galley.

Though the galley is less of a galley, straight and narrow, than an actual kitchen you would find in a home. It’s large, even though Leo claims it’s unnecessary given his plate technology, and rather comfortable. A counter winds around the room, a large refrigerator with people’s personal food labeled, an oven and stove, and lastly, the sink: her destination.

She’s almost to the kitchen island before she sees Percy, sitting on the counter, looking for all the world as if he is a fixture of the kitchen itself. She doesn’t freeze when she sees him–she’s better than that–but she does let herself take stock of him, one leg hanging off the counter and his other knee propped under his chin, holding his head up.

His eyes look irritated, bags underneath that more closely resemble bruises, and a few pieces of hair are falling into his eyes, but he doesn’t do more than glance her way as she crosses to the sink next to him, so she leaves him be. Percy’s always been… observant. She could tell by the way he looked at her as she dropped from the Argo’s rope ladder. But since Tartarus he’s gotten quieter. Before, it used to just be a thing about him, not speaking unless he had something to say. Now it’s more obvious, like something or someone is keeping him.

She fills her glass of water and leans against the island, staring at the fridge.

She and Jason had had their own kitchen, as praetors. It was in the Principa, tucked out of the way, cold blue-greys and aggressively modern appliances. It reminded her of her childhood kitchen in that way. Cleanly impersonal–it more closely resembled an office break room. She and Jason barely used it, but still, they tucked their s’more supplies into a corner cupboard, and occasionally they would find each other there, making tea during late nights and early mornings.

The Argo kitchen is nicer, filled with warm colors and the smell of cinnamon. Percy cooks in here, she knows, though she has never seen him at it. When she had woken up that first morning after the disaster in New Rome there had been conchas on the counter. Leo, for all his initial grumbling, took to cooking in here while Percy and Annabeth were gone. His own little way of grieving, she thinks, taking a sip of water.

Percy lurches as if the ship has, uncharacteristically uncoordinated in his urgency. She straightens immediately as he twists off the counter and onto his feet. His forearms come down hard on the ledge of the counter, bracketing himself, and then he retches into the sink.

Strings of hair hang in his face as he does, she can now see that they are separated by sweat, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s across the aisle and holding his hair back and gives him the privacy of looking away, tucking away loose strands of hair. It’s deceptively soft, even with charred and patchy places here and there, and curlier than Leo’s. Memories of Hylla rage strong as she twists it around her finger, leaving no chance of it falling in the way again, the grey streak resembling a swirl.

Reyna can practically feel Hylla’s hands in her hair, her body sprawled against the wall of their cabin, head in a bucket. Hylla’s body, pressed against one side of her back, not overbearing, just a reminder that she was there now. On good nights they would end up in their bed before Reyna fell asleep, talking until Reyna’s brain could come back home. Hylla would twist Reyna’s hair into braids more beautiful and pure than Reyna could ever imagine being, and Reyna would complain about the smell of the bucket until Hylla got up to throw the contents overboard.

“Better your lunch than yourself,” Hylla sometimes joked upon her return, in that way people do when they are living through horrible things, doing horrible things, having horrible things thrust upon them. The memory burns now that Reyna isn’t there. She can’t find the humor in the joke now, only the threat of the first mate holding Reyna by the hair and threatening to make her walk the plank if she didn’t stop crying.

She couldn’t stop, but he didn’t seem to understand that, he just held her wrists until Hylla was there, in his cabin, talking with her voice smooth in a way it had never been before the Queen Anne’s Revenge. She talked until Reyna was allowed to leave, until the door shut with her still inside.

That was the night Blackbeard and his crew decided Reyna wasn’t worth it, a night she would forever be thankful for. Reyna couldn’t recover as fast as Hylla, she couldn’t put up with as much, she was wrecked after each encounter, and that night she would be thankful for it, and the day after, and the next, until she and Hylla were running the ship and she never had to think about it again.

Percy pants against the sink, signaling that he is done, and she takes a step back, suddenly uncomfortable and anxious for something to do.

She decides on giving him her glass of water–gods know he needs it more than she does–and watches him down the whole thing greedily. An air of clarity seems to blow through him, clearing his eyes and fixing his posture. Maybe that is the magic of a child of Poseidon. Water: an instant cure to all ailments.

“Thank you,” he says with a gasp as he finishes drinking. He wipes some vomit off a corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, frowning before he rinses it off in the sink. Reyna nods serenely in response, no judgement.

It’s a wrestle with herself, to decide if she wants to ask what has him puking his guts out. The fine line she always walks is taunting her, telling her not to alienate people, telling her that knowledge is power. The voice sounds suspiciously like Michelle, which only makes her prickle further. It’s a moot point, regardless. She can remember sitting with Thalia, legs swinging over the edge of a bridge, “I loved him to pieces, Reyna, but that asshole wouldn’t tell me he was hurt unless I pinned him down and threatened to zap his eyebrows off.” She’s going to ask.

“Are you okay?” They are hollow words, because none of them are, and she knows his answer.

“I’m fine,” And then a second later he is over the sink again, all of the water coming right back up.

She takes a place behind him, Hylla’s place, holding his hair back and drawing on his back with her other hand. She can feel his muscles clench each time more of his stomach empties, takes in his breathy swears, traces the letters on the back of his New Rome hoodie. She thinks it might have been hers at one point. It swallows him.  

He pulls back, eventually, putting space between them. She lets him have it, but sticks to her spot, crossing her arms.

“Want to try that again?”

He breathes raggedly, head hung. “I can’t–” he lifts a hand to gesture to himself vaguely, but rests it swiftly, looking like he regrets the action. “I haven’t been able to keep food down. Since we got back. It’s too rich. Too much. I was stupid, forgetting how that worked,” he explains, reading the pull of her brow. “Forgot how it felt, too,” he adds, quietly.

She flicks the sink on, letting his remnants wash down the drain, and looks at him thoughtfully. He’s too tired to notice, or maybe to care. His knuckles white out on the edge of the counter, pulsing no doubt in tandem with his stomach. One of his legs begins to quake and she nudges it with her knee. He shifts.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in here and not the bathroom?”

His breathing, slow and steady, a trained pattern, is interrupted by a faint chuckle. “Thought I wouldn’t run into no one. It’s not working out, clearly.”

He sits back on the counter gently, already clutching his stomach again. “I’ll get over it soon. Just a couple more days. I just–need to make sure I don’t tear my stomach lining.” His words come spaced out and slow, working between his breaths.

“Annabeth?” she asks, unable to mask concern, or maybe uninterested in doing so.

“Got over it,” he answers swiftly. It almost sounds like he is going to say more, but he doesn’t, and she lets it drop in favor of watching him. When he gulps she’s already by his side.

This time bile is the only thing that comes up. He hacks, searching for more, but all that's left is acid. She’s supporting almost his entire weight with one arm. A twitch of worry makes her muscles tense, alien to any type of worry she experienced while he and Annabeth were in the pits of hell. This is immediate, intimate, not abstract. Like seeing Jason’s face dripping gold.

Percy’s whole body shudders, head so deep in the sink she thinks he might be able to touch the sick and the porcelain with his nose if he were to go any further, but the spell seems to have stopped. His arms shake against the counter, and before he can follow through with getting his own vomit plastered across his face she uses her hold on his hair to gently tilt his head towards her.

His eyes are almost completely unfocused, squinting against the kitchen lighting behind her. His water lines have released their tears, finally surmounting the amount of control he had been maintaining. He looks utterly wrecked, and not in the deranged and semi-wild way he had been fresh out of the Doors of Death.

She switches her arm from propping him up to wrapping it around him, keeping him from falling back against the sink and grunting between his weight and his condition. His limbs are loose with relief, now. Almost limp. She orients him until he’s pressed against her hip, utterly malleable under her hands. An odd sense of warmth seems to travel up her arms and into her heart as he slots against her. From what she’s seen, from what she knows, Percy is not one to be controlled. He rebels against it, particularly resistant to anyone who is not a peer, or better yet, a friend. Yet here he is, letting her move his body for him.

It’s something she could never imagine herself doing; willingly handing herself over like this. But with the warmth is a new desire, a spark of hope that one day she will grow with people until she can let them take care of her like this.

“Let’s get you to the med bay,” she says.

“No.” It comes quiet and breathy, and then again with urgency, “No. Annabeth likes to take inventory there when she can’t sleep. Not the med bay.”

Avoiding the med bay on account of Annabeth is a stupid decision, but she reminds herself that Percy cares more about other people than he does himself. He doesn’t want Annabeth to be worried, Reyna thinks, to keep his problems to himself, and though that is not always the best plan, it’s not the worst. Reyna recognizes the necessity of keeping your shit to yourself. Percy might be one of the only people she knows that understands that and deserves it, so she just sighs.

“Okay.” She hooks her other arm under his, making sure he’s steady, and lowers him to the floor. “We’ll just set up camp here.”

He presses the back of his head against the cabinets, hands groping the cool stone floor, and then lets himself tip fully onto it. No complaints. Apparently he likes the change in location. She grabs a dish towel, folding it up and sliding it under his head, and a bowl, if he needs to give up his internal organs while she’s gone and can’t quite make it to the sink. With a shove of his shoulder he turns on his side, loosely grabbing his stomach and making her feel safe in the fact that he can’t choke on his own vomit.

She feels funny when she stands again, brushing her hands against her pant legs. She’s never taken care of someone like this before, never had to. She and Jason were there for each other during their fair share of unfortunate situations, but she never had to watch him like this; curled up on the ground, shaking, weak. She wonders if he was ever caught like this, in the bathroom across the hall. If he had ever wanted to ask her for help.

Annabeth isn’t in the med bay when Reyna goes to scrounge up some anti-nausea medication, and she isn’t coming down the stairs when Reyna makes her way back to the kitchen. Percy’s in the same spot, though. She supposes that counts for something as she sits next to his head, reading the directions on the back of the box.

It’s generic, a syrupy red that reminds her of fake blood in old horror movies. Percy coughs as it goes down, making a face and muttering something about cherry flavoring and scented markers.

When she’s sure he’s not going to up chuck the medicine, which would be a type of irony she is not ready for, she goes searching for something he can eat. The stores on the Argo II are significantly better than that of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and greatly aided by the presence of a fridge, but she ends up with a packet of pedialyte powder she remembers seeing Percy use during their first week on the Argo. It’s orange, which she can respect as it’s the best artificial flavor.

Percy groans while she’s stirring it, and before she knows it she’s sitting by his side, letting him press his face into her leg. Her body seems to know what to do, even if she doesn’t, and she’s grateful for it.

“Would you rather rehydrate or take more medication?”

He groans again, nose brushing her thigh, and says, “Both.”

“Disregard the instructions?”

He hums against her leg, whispering her resolve into the ground, because she doesn’t argue. It doesn’t hurt that she couldn’t decide either, or that she has always been good at knowing when to break the rules.

“Whatever repercussions there are to this, it’s your fault,” she says instead, already measuring another dose.

He downs it like a shot and with a grimace, even though he is still laying on the floor. It manages to wring a snort out of her, as does the way he remarks that the straw she put in the pedialyte looks like a worm: “Which I’ll allow only because you chose blue; the best color.”

He fumbles in and out of consciousness, mind half addled, and she thinks she’s found a cheat code to becoming his friend. With his sharp eyes half closed and his height stolen by his horizontal position on the floor, too tired to keep his body wired and slurping through a straw because the energy to sit up seems like a far flung concept, he’s easy to see and even easier to like.

“You made the good shit,” he half slurs as he takes another sip.

“Yeah?”

“Grew up on this stuff,” he says by way of explanation. “It was free at my first school, low income and what not. Wanted to make sure we had enough calories to suffer through the school day. Picked it up at food banks, too.”

She hums, pretending he hasn’t just revealed something that she doubts he’s told anyone else. “Kept it around for the taste?”

“Malnourished after Lupa, just a bit,” he says arching his neck in discomfort before taking another sip. “I made sure to pick some up while we were still in the states. ‘Beth knows I like it though. I think she already bought some.”

“Yeah.” Reyna can vaguely remember something along those lines, sitting with Annabeth and going over supply lists for the ship. She’d been rambling and scatterbrained, which Reyna now knew was her default state.

He switches subjects after that, nothing sticking for long. It’s an interesting contrast to the Percy that she’s met. She wonders if he was like ths as a kid, or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe it was until they were swapped, maybe it was until Tartarus and she just never got the chance to see.

“You’re talkative when half your guts are down the drain,” she tells him, after listening to him ramble about the Knicks for a couple minutes.

“Blame my state.”

“I am, dumbass.”

“So rude,” he says in Spanish, sounding like her neighbors in Puerto Rico, getting together under the shade during the heat of the day, complaining about their daughters. “What’re you doing here anyway,” he asks, “Why aren’t you nice and cozy in your bed.”

“Obviously sitting on the floor with you is superior.”

He coughs out a laugh, there. Weak, but she can feel his amusement from the crinkle of his eyes before he sobers. “Really, why?”

“Nightmare.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Want to talk about Tartarus?” she snaps, because no, she does not want to talk about her historical issues with boats, or how she’s thinking of Jason, out there escorting a forty foot statue in an attempt to stop yet another war.

“Sorry,” Percy whispers, pulling his head back a bit.

“No, I’m sorry.” She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to be a leader, which does not include letting her frustrations out on others, no matter the time of day–or night. “That was unprofessional of me.”

He snorts. “We’re lying on the kitchen floor and I’m wearing Black panther pajama pants. Trust me, you don’t have to be professional here… And I’m sorry–for asking.”

“It’s alright,” she ends up saying, mostly thinking that he’s right. She’s about to tell him so when she notices that his eyes have slipped closed. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I’m not gonna sleep,” he grumbles.

“Well if I get you some more magic potion can you lie to me?”

He smiles at that, one side of his mouth going up farther than the other, like in almost every photo she saw of him during her months at Camp Half-Blood. “If you, Reyna Ramírez Allreano, get me more orange pedialyte, I will absolutely fall asleep as soon as I’m in my bed.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

[albertasunrise]

It's Yours - Chapter 1

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Unplanned Pregnancy 18+

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

~

Your nails dig into the strong muscles on his back as he thrusts his hips at a maddening pace, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he chases his release. It was your last night together and you weren’t going to let him go without feeling him one last time and he couldn’t leave without one final taste of you. Pulling his head back his dark, lust-blown, eyes lock with yours and he lets out a primal growl as he feels your walls start to tighten around him.

‘You going to cum for me?’ He asks, in a low tone as he angles his hips so that he’s hitting that toe-curling spot over and over.

‘Yes.’ You moan ‘Fuck.’

You cum hard, screaming his name as tears leak from the corner of your eyes and you pull him right along with you. He collapses beside you, chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath and you chuckle as you roll onto your side to look at him. You both remain silent for a short while, revelling in your post-sex bliss as the sounds of the city drift through the open window.

‘You need to quit smoking.’ You say as you place a loving kiss on his shoulder.

‘I think you may be right Hermosa.’ He replied with a breathy laugh as he turned his head to look at you 'But I don't need to start tonight.' He sniggers as he lights one and takes a long toke, blowing the smoke away from you.

‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’ You ask, smiling sadly at him.

‘A little after 12.’ He replies, turning his head back towards the textured ceiling.

‘Do you need a lift?’

‘Murphy’s driving me.’ He replies coldly, not looking at you as he speaks.

‘Right.’ You roll out of his bed and start to collect your clothes, grabbing his attention.

‘What are you doing?’ He asks, his stomach sinking at the sight of you getting ready to leave.

‘Getting dressed so I can go home.’ You state plainly as you scan the floor for your shirt ‘Isn’t that how it works? We fuck and then go our separate ways?’

‘Can you stay?’ He asks and you look at him in surprise ‘Just for tonight.’ He paused as he gave you a wounded expression ‘Please.'

‘Okay.’

You left early in the morning, taking one last glance at his sleeping form before turning to leave. You knew it was wrong of you to just go, but your heart was aching at the knowledge that he was leaving you and you had to stay behind to finish what he's started. He deserved to see this to the end. Sure he'd made mistakes but he made them for the right reasons. Sometimes you have to do bad things to catch bad people as he would say.

~

One month later…

Staring up at the departures board you see your flight listed just below Murphy’s and you glance at your partner who stood at your side, watching you curiously.

‘What Murphy?’ You grumble as you let out an exasperated huff.

‘You’re going to Texas?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because you felt like a change or because that’s where Javi is?’

‘I have family there. I have a ton of leave to take so decided to visit them.’ You lie, shrugging your shoulders ‘Since my parents died, my aunt and uncle are the only family I have left.’

Murphy looks away guiltily. You’ve fooled him. Good.

'What will you do when you get back to Miami?'

'Hold my wife and daughter.' He states as he smiles at the thought of them 'I've missed out on so much.'

'Connie loves you, Steve. She'll be overjoyed to have you back.' You say sweetly as you give him a genuine smile.

'I hope so.' He replies, giving you a slight nod.

You look at the departures board again and see that your flight's terminal is nowhere near your partners so you turn to Murphy and prepare to say goodbye.

‘It’s been a pleasure Stevo.’ You say with a smile as you hug him tightly.

‘Don’t be a stranger.’ He replies, giving your arm a friendly squeeze.

‘I won’t.’ You give him one last hug and then head your separate ways.

'Say hi to Javi for me.' He shouts over his shoulder and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips.

When you finally reach your gate, you take a seat on one of the thinly padded benches and pull out the address Javier had given you on your last night together.

‘This is where I’ll be.’ He’d told you ‘You know… If you wanted to come to see me.’

You’d chuckled at that and told him you'd consider it... Then you’d left early that morning before he’d even woken up because you hadn't wanted to face saying goodbye to him. You’d regretted that move but knew he wouldn’t have cared, you were just fucking after all.

The flight was long and you weren’t able to sleep a wink, your leg shaking nervously the entire time. They'd served the in-flight meal but you couldn't eat a bite, the smell making your stomach turn. When you heard the captain announce that you would be landing in Laredo airport you feel your pulse quicken, palms starting to sweat as your nerves got the better of you. It was late when you landed, gone 11 pm by the time you made it out of the airport and so you decide that you would find a motel for the night and drive to Javier’s father’s ranch in the morning. You rent a car at the airport and drive around the unfamiliar town until you find a semi-clean looking hotel, the vacancy sign flashing in the dim light of night.

‘That’ll be 100 dollars for the night with breakfast included.’ The lady at the desk states, passing you a key with a large wooden tag attached, 101 carved onto it.

‘Thank you.’ You reply as you give her a genuine smile ‘Is there anywhere around here that’s still open where I can get something to eat? Just had a long flight and the plane food made my stomach roll.’

‘There’s a bar down the street.’ She replies ‘Does the best nachos you’ll ever taste.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

You make your way to your room, dropping off your luggage before heading to the bar the girl had mentioned. It was painted a dark red, a neon sign flashing ‘Open’ hanging in the window and you push open the door and make your way inside. Taking a seat at the bar you raise your hand to grab the barman’s attention, smiling as he approaches you.

‘Not seen you here before.’ He says as he smiles at you and you can’t help but notice how attractive he is.

‘I’m visiting some family.’ You reply ‘I hear the Nachos here are the best around.’

‘You heard right. Can I get you an order of those?’

‘And a beer.’ You finish as you give him a genuine grin and he gives you a wink before going off to give the kitchen your order.

You let your eyes scan the bar. It’s fairly busy for a Wednesday night. Mainly men scattered around the various tables and booths, a few women in small groups giggling as they sip their cocktails and you suddenly feel lonely, but the feeling disappeared when your beer is placed down in front of you.

‘So, how come you’re here alone?’ He asks as he leans against the bar polishing a glass.

‘I only landed an hour or so ago.’ You reply as you sip at your beer ‘Noting it’s a favourite of yours yet you’re finding it bitter.’

‘And is there a boyfriend in the picture?’ He asks and you can’t help but blush.

‘There’s a guy.’ You reply, taking another sip of your bitter beer ‘But he’s not my boyfriend. Not sure what we are if I'm honest. We kinda had a -friends with benefits- situation going on but I fell for him. They never end well eh?’ You chuckle and he responds in kind.

‘Shame.’ He replies as he gives you a cheeky grin ‘Would love you take you out.’

Your nachos arrive and sure enough, they are the best you’ve ever had. You chat to the barman, learning all there is to know about Lurado. You talk for a few hours before you inevitably have to leave.

'If things with that guy don't work. Feel free to call me.' States the barman as he hands you a scrap of paper with his name and number on it.

'I will.' You reply as you suck on your bottom lip.

When you get back to your room for find yourself emptying your stomach. You put it down to being jet-lagged and decide that sleep will help but when you wake up in the morning you find yourself hugging the toilet again, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you lean against the tiled wall. You brush your teeth and head down for breakfast but every smell that greets you makes your stomach turn and you soon find yourself sprinting for the toilet again but all you can do is heave, your stomach completely empty now.

‘What the fuck is wrong with me?’ You asked yourself as you rinse your mouth and face with water.

Then your mind starts to go over the facts. Your tastes have changed, smells are making you sick.

‘I can't be… can I?’ You ask yourself as you count back the days since your last cycle and your breath hitches.

You're two weeks late.

You practically sprint out of the motel, remembering that you’d seen a pharmacy down the road. You buy a pack of tests and make your way back to the motel, taking it a little slower as the Texas sun beats down on you. You happen to peer into a diner as you approach it and your heart stops when you see who’s sat by the window, smiling at a woman sat opposite. You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart in your throat, stomach twisting in knots as you watch him laugh at something she says whilst he strokes his thumb over her knuckles and he looks at her the way he used to look at you. A server comes to speak to the woman he’s with and he looks up and out of the window, his eyes then locking with yours. You don’t realise your crying but he can see it and his brows furrow as he tilts his head slightly. You can’t look at him a moment longer. You have bigger things to worry about and so you will your legs to move, practically sprinting down the sidewalk to get away.

‘Hermosa?’

You stop dead in your tracks but you don’t turn to face him. You’re shoulders shake as your sobs wrack your exhausted body.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks and this makes you turn to face him.

‘Seriously?’ You spit, eyes red with tears ‘You should get back to your date Javier.’

‘Hermosa wait.’

‘Don’t you dare call me that!’ You growl ‘You don’t get to call me that. Not now.’

'You left me.' He states and you feel your anger explode.

Without another work you storm towards the motel, stopping by the front desk and asking if you’re able to extend your stay another night. You pay her and sprint back up to the room, pulling out the tests and heading into the bathroom. You're angry because he's right. You did leave him but as you look down at the box of tests in your hands you decide that this is more important right now. You need to know. So you follow the instructions and you pee on two of them, deciding that it's better to be safe than sorry and you place them facing down beside the sink, watching the minutes tick away on the clock opposite the bathroom door. You wait the five minutes it states on the box and turn to look at them, your hands shaking as you close your eyes and flip them over. Taking a deep breath you crack your eyes open and let out a sob at what you see.

Both of them are positive.

A million and one thoughts go through your head. You’re panicking as you think about what to do. Do you tell him? It’s his after all. You’d not been with anyone since he’d left. You sit there and stare at the tests, allowing your mind to think about the future. You growing round with Javier’s baby and you feel a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. What if he doesn't want it? What if he's serious with that woman? You don't want to be a homewrecker. Do you want to keep it? Are you ready to be a mum? You ponder all of these things for a long while as you stare and the two sticks of plastic in your hands. Yes. Yes, you are ready.

‘I’ll tell him.’ You say to the tiny being inside you ‘If he doesn’t want anything to do with you then that’s fine. We’ll be okay on our own.’ You pause as rest your hand on your stomach 'He's a good man your dad but he's complicated. Never one for settling down yet despite us not being an official couple he remained faithful to me for two years and I was to him.'

You shower and brush your teeth, needing to remove all evidence of your rough morning and head out a little after midday. Hopping into your rental car you pull the address out of your pocket, fingers brushing against the positive test you’d decided to bring and causing your heart to skip a beat. You sat there for a moment and imagined what they might look like. Would they have his expressive brown eyes and golden skin tone? Or would they have yours? Shaking your head you start up the car and pull out of the parking lot, following the signs for the area stated on the slip of paper on your lap. His father’s ranch is surprisingly easy to find. It sits a few miles outside of town and you feel your heart race as you make your way down the dusty drive. The house is a decent size. It's well kept with one large truck parked out front. To the left are some stables, two horses grazing in the field beside it and the nicker and whinny when they see you hop out of your car and head towards the house. You let out a shaky breath as pluck up the courage to knock on the door, your stomach doing somersaults as an older man answers and studies you for a moment before he speaks.

‘Can I help you?’ He asks, his accent much like Javier's Must be his father You think to yourself.

‘I’m looking for Javier Peña. Is her here?’ You asked, your voice shaking as you speak.

‘He’s up by the river mending fences.' The man states 'Follow that track up... You can't miss him.’ He states and you nod your thanks before getting back in your car.

'You're her aren't you?' He asks, stopping you dead 'He mentioned that he'd seen his partner from Columbia in town this morning. Also mentioned it wasn't a pleasant reunion.' You turn to look at him as he sizes you up 'He was broken when he left to fix those fences. You best not be going up there to break him more.'

'That's not my intention.' You state and he nods before heading back inside.

You get back into your car and make your way down the road you were told to follow and sure enough, you see Javier. He's adorning the same shirt he’d been wearing this morning, his signature yellow aviators tight jeans. He looks up when he hears the sound of tires on gravel and watches as you exit your car. His eyes follow you as you step towards him, gaze locked to his. He removes his shades as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing and you finally you come to a stop opposite him, your heart thundering so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asks coldly with a stoic expression.

Your mouth moves but no words leave your lips. You think long and hard for a few moments about what to say to him but decide to cut straight to the chase. You need to get it out there.

‘I’m pregnant Javier.’ You state plainly as you pull out the positive test from your pocket ‘I'm pregnant and it’s yours.’

~

Chapter 2

[cosmiclatte28]

Disorder (Yuta x reader)

a/n : contains sensitive topic about eating disorder, do not read if it’s triggering or uncomfortable for you :”) 

I do not personally support this topic, but last time I worked on this and I don’t know why I post this.. just tell me to delete this if this is too controversial I’ll take it down.

don’t force yourself 

The dark cloud loaming on the sky is terrifying enough to make you crouch under your blanket as you mutter prayers so the lights won’t go out and the thunder won't surprise you.

However the cold feeling creeping on your feet and hands should be the real deal to worry about. You shake under the blanket, hiding more under the fluffy linen if that is possible. Your lips tremble, chapped lips, and icy blue in color.

You know he won’t like what he sees. Yuta will never like this state you are in, but no matter how much you want to stop it, you can't.

Your body refuses the tiniest amount of food forced into your mouth. It happened three months into your marriage with Nakamoto Yuta. World's famous idol, actor, heart stealer. Life was perfect with Yuta before the marriage announcement. You love him, he loves you… his members are all supportive about his relationship. You're healthy and Yuta loves you for everything you do.

That was until Yuta got his first major role in a drama. The drama won a lot of awards, thanks to your husband's wonderful acting skill as a mafia and the perfect chemistry between the doll actress and him. You need to admit you're jealous of her, but the problem doesn’t come from the actress nor from Yuta.

Your husband is still loyal to you, he takes the marriage vow seriously… you actually do not have to worry about Yuta falling out of love, you clearly can see his love grows more and more each day to you. It's already your second anniversary!

It was the fandom, the talk of the town, the tweets of the bullies that broken you. You know you're not the perfect girl to marry the oh so perfect Nakamoto Yuta. No, you're not ugly or fat. You're fit, you’re healthy, you look fresh. You have a bright smile, cheerful personality, and kind heart. You have your own charm, the glowing smile that makes Yuta bears with the harsh schedule every day. Your hugs bring his broken pieces back, and your laugh it makes Yuta realizes no matter how hard life is, he will keep striving for you.

But the comments of the web, of the unknown faces caught you. Crept slowly into your mind and ate your heart bits by bits on lonely night when you have to fake a smile over calls and videocalls with Yuta.

“(Y/n), I'm coming home In two weeks! The world tour is tiring, but it's worthy!” Yuta one night greeted you over video call. He was unwinding from the tiring show and you were getting ready to work in your own company.

You always put a smile to him, no matter how harsh the comments of the world is whenever people brought up Yuta's marriage with you. The comments are always about how unsuitable you are to be Mrs.Nakamoto.

At first it just hurts, but as you try to ignore them, you just think and think more about it. What if they're true. What if the world really hates seeing you by his side. What if one day you're just going to ruin everything Yuta worked hard for?

With Yuta's tight schedule with comeback and more drama, you found yourself sleeping by yourself and eating by yourself. The lack of companion after coming back from a tiring day makes you skip dinner and directly go to bed.

You thought, skipping dinner will not trouble you, Yuta won’t know and you'll just ignore the pain. You skipped dinner not to lose weight, mainly because you don’t feel happy eating alone. And this happened for a while. You don’t drink anti-acids even when you feel like throwing up at nights, you don’t feed your grumbling stomach when they beg for solid foods. No, you lost your appetite. For weeks, the only thing you have in the morning is just water, one small apple if you really cannot help it and on lunch you try your best to only consume little to none food. Did you lose weight? Drastically! Not in a healthy way, you're not proud of your body. No, this lost of appetite doesn’t make you happy. You don’t feel like living.

“(Y/n)-chan, have u had dinner?” Yuta called on his last week of tour. It has been almost four months since he left for the world tour. He'll have another one month away to finish the closing tour.

You lied and nod your head “Yes, what about you?” Yuta couldn’t see your dining table, you just put your face there.

“I am having breakfast! Anyways, make sure you're eating enough… your cheeks are gone honey!” Yuta looks concern, but his smile is still there coz he is always treasuring the short time he has to call and see you.

“Well, it's the camera maybe. Good thing right?” you try to laugh it off although you know you really lose weight.

“No, I love your glowing cheeks! Don’t tell me you're skipping meals" he suddenly opens his eyes wide.

You chuckle “No. Don’t worry Yuta.”

He grins “Then what did you eat? Why you never show me?”

You are taken aback “Uh I've eaten it.”

Yuta doesn’t give up “Next time, send me a picture okay so it feels less lonely! Gomen, I have to go rehearsal! Byee love you!” he closes the call after you bid him goodbye, goodluck and a love you.

You walk to the mirror in your room. Grimacing at your skeletal body. You were fit and now you look sick. Your skin doesn’t glow, your lips are chapped, and your hair looks dull. No matter how hard you try to bring your glossy hair back, the lack of nutrients won’t allow you.

You hate your current state, you look horrible. Thin body but with a very dull skin, pale lips, unlovely eyes. You look like a walking zombie. Your nail and hair vitamins did not help, the polished healthy nails are now chipped and broken.

You tried, eating some foods, but your body throws them back out. Your friend suggested going to the specialist, but you're too stubborn and shy to go. What if someone caught you on camera, what will the world say about Yuta? About you?

Yes some people know about you. Your wedding picture was published online, you were pretty back then! Some fans supported you, but after they realize how regular you were they started comparing and regretting their idol's choice.

You go to work with your big clothes, trying to hide your sick appearance but everyone in the company realizes you're not doing good.

“Yuta will hate me,” that’s all you can think about when you close your eyes and force your light head to sleep by yourself in the big room while wishing you can still see the sunlight and greet Yuta.

What you fear the most, happened.

Yuta got home to you, shaking so bad from the lack of food. You're working too hard and forgot all the meals. You only drink water, and Yuta got home from his tiring tour to find you laying almost lifeless on his bed.

“(y/n)?! What joke is this?!” he lightly slap your cheek to wake you up, but your breathing is slow and your eyes are heavy.

Yuta rushed you to the hospital and all you remember was the worried look he has once you opened your eyes.

“The specialist said this is not something new. For you to reach this state of disorder, they said it has been at least two years. Why have you never told me? Why?” Yuta asked first thing first when you woke up.

You cried, feeling bad to see Yuta this worried “Gomen, I'm stupid Yuta. I skipped dinner… and it became a routine.”

Yuta shook his head “You were lying to me…”

You cried, unable to deny him. He stayed silence and a tear fell from his face “Why do you lie? Why are you killing yourself? Do you not love me?”

You shake your head furiously “I love you yuta! I love you so much! But it’s lonely without you.”

Yuta trembles upon your remark. Is he the reason you're like this?

Yuta feels bad about your condition, he wants you to return to your healthy self but the doctors all tell him it will take time and patience and a whole lots of determinations!

The medics have to give you fluid foods which sadly you cannot deny. For a week you live from the liquid nutrients injected to your body and for the next month you're forcing yourself to consume food at least a real food.

Yuta takes a break from his promotion, making sure he is with you throughout the process. You feel bad for him, feel pitiful about your condition yet at the same time you hate yourself.

“It's awful Yuta.” You sob as you sit on the toilet floor, after barfing away your dinner once again.

“I'm just wasting food.” You desperately cry and Yuta's there to lend you his shoulder.

“No. Come on, it's not everything! At least your stomach is learning to work and digest again. Come don’t cry my beautiful princess.” He brings back the name he used to call you back on the younger days. You asked him to stop calling you princess after you get older and feel shy about the nickname.

But hearing that from Yuta's own lips, with pure sincerity when he is standing by your side makes you determined to overcome this together with him. For you and for him. For many more memories to make with him and for your future.

“Thank you, Yuta" you whisper before closing your eyes and leaning to his chest because you feel weak.

Yuta kisses the temple of your head “Always and forever my princess.” He hugs you closer to his chest and picks you up to carry you to bed.

“We'll get over this together okay?” You nod “Promise?” he shows you his pinky

You hook your pinky to his “Promise.”

“I love you not for how you look but for who you are.” Yuta slowly say that when you're falling into sleep.

You smile knowing this silly storm in your head will slowly fade with Yuta’s sunshine in your life.

end

[writersarchivex]

New Job- One Shot

a/n: basically y/n just got a new job, and before her first day she goes out to celebrate with some friends. she meets harry at the bar. things happen. b o o m.

warnings: angst, adult language, drinking, mentions of sex.

!theres no smut in this guys . give me a break this is my first time posting on tumblr!

words: 1.6k

After months of looking and years of hard work at college, Y/N finally got the call. She had gotten her dream job at a law firm, which might not sound like much but it very much so is. All her life this had been just what her dad wanted for her, to grow up and become a powerful lawyer and strong young woman.

So that’s what she did. She worked her ass off, never attending parties and never straying far from the lines. Pretty much everything she did was to please the memory of her beloved father.

Tonight though, was a change of pace for Y/N. A group of her friends invited her to the local bar, after finding out about her new found job.

“Come on Y/N. One drink. Live a little before you jump into that great job of yours.” Mia said into the phone.

Y/N sighed and looked around at her apartment. She didn’t really have any plans for the night, and there wasn’t any harm in having one drink with her friends. I mean, how often do you get to celebrate things like this right?

“Fine, Mia. Just one drink. No funny business though, I really can’t go in tomorrow with a hang over.” Y/N smiled.

One drink very quickly became two, and two became four. Y/N was very drunk. The room was a bit blurry, but she was certainly sober to know she’d had enough.

Mia and the group were having a blast, and of course she was as well. This type of thing was never Y/N’s scene. She was more of the ‘stay inside with a blanket and a book’ kind of girl.

She kind of hated nights like this. The smell and taste of alcohol overpowering her senses, drunk sweaty people dancing around, and a black dress that was all too short and uncomfortable.

After looking at her friends a while more, she had decided she was done. It’s way past time to call it a night.

She gave a smile to know one in particular, and turned to get her wallet.

She did not expect though, to be met with very pretty eyes and the most gorgeous hair she has probably seen on a man, or any human being for that matter.

“Can I buy you a drink, love?” The man asked, eyeing her carefully up and down.

His voice was dripping with attractiveness, and a beautiful english accent.

“Uhm, I really should be going. Thank you though,” She did her best to be polite.

Although the man looked like a literal gift from God, she really needed to get home.

She missed her pajamas. And her cat.

“Come on, just one. If you really wanna go after that, I’ll call you an uber.” He smiled.

Okay, by now Y/N was very sure she was dreaming. No man that sexy can possibly be that kind. Nope.

She looked at him carefully, like he did to her just moments ago. He was quite tall compared to her, and he was wearing a very nice suit, that fit him perfectly. A businessman maybe?

The man continued to patiently wait, until she gave her answer.

“Okay fine one drink, can I at least have your name?” She smiled at the curly headed man.

He clapped his hands together softly, and let out a chuckle.

“I’m Harry.”

——————————————————————————

Y/N felt the warmth of the sun on her as she slowly sat up in her bed. The memories of last night still a mystery in her mind.

All she knew is that, somehow she was not late for work.

And there was someone in her bed.

A man was laying next to her, facing the opposite direction. From what she could see, he was hot. He certainly had a very nice back.

“I’m Harry.”

Memories from the night prior flooded her mind. She began to slightly panic. She’s never experienced anything like this before, and she didn’t quite know what to do with the man in the bed next to her.

He was fast asleep, and right now she wishes she were dead. Out of all the stupid things she's ever done, this seems to take the cake. 

Trying her best not to wake the man, Y/N made her way quietly out of her room. I mean, she could just get ready for work? Let him wake up on his own?

With the few times that she had gotten drunk in the past, she's never really had a hang over. Call it good karma, or maybe just luck.

She examined her self in the mirror, noticing the hickeys that littered her pale chest.

"Jesus. Couldn't he have aimed a little lower there Harry." She grimaced, turning away from the mirror.

Although she felt a little stupid and embarrassed, she didn't really regret sleeping with the man in her bed.

He seemed mature, which is always nice in situations like this. Not to mention he was mind numbingly attractive.

—

Soon after her shower was finished and she had gotten ready for work, she stepped out of the bathroom trying her best to prepare to wake the man up.

It took every bone in her body not to just let him stay there until he deemed fit to leave, but she figured that wouldn't be the best of ideas. She walked down the small hallway and quickly noticed the smell of coffee surrounding the apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, the man was stood in just his boxers, patiently waiting for the coffee to brew.

Standing there she decided to indulge herself a bit. She never really gets the pleasure of housing someone like this in her apartment, so she figures it wouldn't hurt to admire a bit.

"The mugs are in the top cabinet." She was a bit surprised by how weak her voice was, considering how confident she was last night.

He turned quickly and gave her a quick smile. He seemed a bit wrecked, which was a given under the circumstances.

"Hangover?" She asked, slowly making her way to the medicine cabinet.

He nodded and sat with his cup of black coffee, placing his hands around his head.

"Yes. You seem perfectly fine though. Is it bad that i kind of wish you were hungover too?" He laughed a bit, but quickly grimaced at the sound of his own voice.

What he said made her giggle a bit, before she handed him a few ibuprofen.

He mumbled a quick thank you and finished his cup of coffee.

He stood, placing his hand on either side of the counter where Y/N sat.

Suddenly, she felt like she was in junior high all over again. Y/N felt her cheeks go hot and it felt like every sign of breath had vacated her lungs.

"Hangover or not. From what i can remember, last night was great." He said in a slight whisper.

He was close enough now, that Y/N could feel his breath on my neck. It sent shivers down her spine and she could've swarm she would die right on the spot.

He placed his lips on hers gently, and boy she could've sworn she felt sparks. Her whole face was on fire at this point. No man, or woman, has ever had quite this effect on her.

"I wish I could stay love, but I have to head in to work in about an hour." He said, tracing circles on the side of her arm.

She smiled and looked at the clock, she still had about thirty minutes before she had to get to the firm, and living pretty close surely helped her situation.

"It's okay you can go. It was nice- meeting you Harry."

He gave her one last kiss on the lips before returning to the room to get dressed.

—

Y/N was actually quite sad that he had left. She wishes he could've stayed longer, but she wasn't going to be that girl.

It was a one night stand, and nothing more.

She sighed and looked up at the polished building. Her cup of coffee had gone a bit cold, but she drank it nonetheless.

She checked her watch quickly, and decided it would be best just to go ahead in.

Y/N was very nervous. She worked hard and earned her position, but she was still a bit worried about how her arrival would be taken.

She was a nice girl, and she hoped that people would treat her the same.

She got a few looks as she walked in, but most everyone continued on with their business as if she was just another intern. That she was though.

"Y/N hey!" She stopped in her tracks as her close friend Liam flagged her down.

He stopped in front of her and began to give her the run down of the building.

"Here's everything you need, badge, ID card, and I wrote down the pin numbers to the break room doors. Oh and you have a quick meeting with the boss in about five minutes. He's running late, so you can just go wait in his office." Liam panted.

I was a bit overwhelmed with all the information he gave me, but I did my best not to show my nervousness.

"Okay. I'm going to head there now. Wish me luck okay?" She grinned at the man.

He gave her a quick hug, and then hurriedly made his way over to his office.

———

The bosses office was quite bare. She'd never seen or met this man. Y/N was hired by the head of the department she'd be working in. This man that she was meeting with was the head of the whole damn building.

Kind of intimidating, but it's nothing she can't handle.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, the door opened and closed quickly.

"I apologize for my lateness, Miss Y/L/N. I was stuck in morning traffic." A familiar voice rang out.

She grimaced and turned around slowly to face the man.

Her boss.

"Harry?"

[staysaneathome]

A Poor First Impression

(Another Entity Swap WIP— this time focusing on the first meeting of those who have taken the place of Jon and Martin in their world’s Institute…)

[EARLY MORNING, THE ORSINOV INSTITUTE REGISTRY. A YOUNG MAN WITH CURLY HAIR AND THE FASHION SENSE OF A PARTICULARLY GOTH SCARECROW IS CHECKING OVER HIS BRIEFCASE AND REARRANGING THINGS IN HIS NEW DESK. HE’S REMEMBERED HIS LAPTOP, HIS MEMO PAD, PENS, PENCILS, NOTEBOOK, POST-ITS…]

[A LOUD CLATTER HAS HIM LOOKING UP AND STANDING, SWALLOWING NERVOUSLY. HIS RESTING FACE DOESN'T GIVE IT AWAY, BUT THE CURATORIAL ASSISTANT NEEDS TO MAKE A GOOD IMPRESSION AS A VALUABLE WORKER IN THIS NEW, TENUOUS ENVIRONMENT. HE STRAIGHTENS UP AS IT GETS CLOSER…]

[A YOUNG WOMAN IN A CARDIGAN WITH TOO MUCH MAKEUP TO BE PRACTICED AT APPLYING IT CAREENS AROUND THE CORNER INTO THE BULLPEN, GLANCING AROUND NERVOUSLY, MESSENGER BAG BANGING AGAINST HER HIP. HER NAIL POLISH IS ODDLY FLUORESCENT, AND SEVERAL STRANDS OF HAIR HAVE ALREADY COME LOOSE FROM HER PONYTAIL.]

LYNN STINE: “Hi, uh, sorry. You haven’t seen a cat, have you?”

[A MOMENT OF PROFOUNDLY CONFUSED SILENCE. THE HEAD CURATOR CONTEMPLATES FLEEING THE BUILDING]

EMIL WALPOLE: “I. In general, or…?”

LYNN STINE: [NERVOUS LAUGHTER OF SOMEONE WHO KNOWS THEY'RE ABOUT TO BECOME A MEME ON THEIR FIRST DAY] “Uh-uh, no actually. I mean, um, around here somewhere? …In the Registry? Kinda big, very fluffy? Majestic?”

[A MOMENT OF MUCH MORE TENSE SILENCE. THE CURATORIAL ASSISTANT SQUINTS AT THE INTERLOPER, AS THOUGH SHE'D PLANNED THIS TO TRIP HIM UP PERSONALLY ON THE FIRST DAY OF HIS PROMOTION. THE HEAD CURATOR CONTEMPLATES FLEEING THE COUNTRY]

EMIL WALPOLE: [SLOWLY] “Why would there be a Cat in the Registry?”

LYNN STINE: [REGRETTING EVERY CHOICE SHE'S EVER MADE BUT ESPECIALLY THIS ONE] “Well, um, he was outside and he came up to me and started purring, so I gave him some pets because he was a very good boy, but then I had to come in by the Registry side door, which is really heavy, and my hands were full, so I had to use my foot, and he sort of…ran past me?”

EMIL WALPOLE: [IMPATIENT, INTERRUPTING] “Why were you coming into the Registry?”

LYNN STINE: [THROUGHLY CONFUSED] “Well, I. I work here.”

[A THIRD, MONUMENTAL SILENCE. AS IF AN UNCARING UNIVERSE IS WAITING FOR A PUNCHLINE.]

EMIL WALPOLE: [WITH UNSHAKEABLE CONFIDENCE] “No you don’t.”

[SILENCE AGAIN, AS THE HEAD CURATOR TAKES THE TIME TO SQUINT AT HIM. HALF OF HER IS CONVINCED THAT THIS GUY IS RIGHT, SHE'S HALLUCINATED THIS ENTIRE PROMOTION, AND SHE SHOULD JUST APOLOGIZE AND RIGHT WALK OUT]

LYNN STINE: “Ye-uh. Yes I do.”

EMIL WALPOLE: “No you don’t. I know I transferred down here with Danny, and I know I transferred down here with Alexa. And you? Are neither.”

[THE CURATORIAL ASSISTANT PUFFS HIS CHEST OUT, LIKE HE’S A DETECTIVE WHO'S JUST CRACKED THE CASE. THE HEAD CURATOR DOES SOME COMPLICATED MENTAL MATH]

LYNN STINE: “Oh. Oh! You’re, uh, you’re Emile, right? Emile Walpole?”

EMIL WALPOLE: “Emil.”

LYNN STINE: “Right, Emil, sorry, I’m sorry. Uh, Nikky told me we’d be, um. We’d be working together. I-I’m uh, I’m Ly—“

[A RATTLE OFF IN THE DISTANCE. THE FAINTEST MEOW COMES FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE REGISTRY'S FILING]

[THE CAT, WHO IN ANOTHER LIFE WOULD ANSWER TO THE NAME "THE ADMIRAL", HAS GOTTEN BORED OF HIS EXPLORATIONS AND IS WONDERING WHERE ALL THE NEW FRIENDS HE CAN SMELL ARE]

EMIL WALPOLE: [PLUMBING THE DEPTHS OF HIS PATIENCE. HE WILL SALVAGE THIS BEFORE HIS NEW BOSS (WHOEVER THAT IS) AND HIS COWORKERS COME IN] “Right. It sounds like it came from back there. I’ll take one end, you take the other, and we’ll meet in the middle so it can’t get by either of us. Shout if you’re having any trouble though.”

LYNN STINE: [EAGERLY ACCEPTING DIRECTION. MAYBE IF SHE COOPERATES WELL WITH HER NEW SUBORDINATE, SHE'LL BE ABLE TO SALVAGE SOME RESPECT?] “Right! Right, okay! Let’s—let’s get on that—! Yes.”

EMIL WALPOLE: [ABRUPT] “And then you and your cat will be on your way. You’ll need to ask Ms. Grimaldi if you’ll have permissions to come back in if you want to report an incident. Though, I warn you, my superior may not be as understanding about this as Ms. Grimaldi is, but getting your pet out as quickly as possible will probably be better for you.”

LYNN STINE: [UNABLE TO EXPLAIN THAT SHE IS HIS SUPERIOR WITHOUT A GREAT DEAL OF ARGUING AND EMBARRASSMENT THAT WILL TAKE FAR LONGER THAN RETRIEVING THE WAYWARD CAT WILL] “Y. Yup. I’ll, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”