#it just started aching randomly a few hours ago and i feel like now its developing into smth Bad and Expensive

[piplupod]

why the hell did my molar have to go and get chipped somehow randomly (i dont know when it happened or how it happened, i just noticed it was very sharp one day earlier this year) right after i was no longer eligible for my dad's insurance that covers dental.... i am going to have to probably pay at least $200+ to get this checked and taken care of,,,, head in my hands. i swear someone up there wants me to off myself I swear to fucking god

[courtforshort15]

Skin to Skin

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 2,600

Summary: A boyfriend who has extremely sensitive skin makes reader super self-conscious about her own skin

Trigger warning: None

Written for this request

Masterlist

Waxing hurts.

You don’t care what other people say about it, it hurts. Whether it’s the first time or the twentieth time, no matter what you wax, it's all the same. Your skin feels like it's lit up like a fucking Christmas tree before it settles into a dull throb, and even though the pain lasts for just a few moments, it's enough for a gasp of discomfort and a tensing of your body whenever the warm substance is spread across the part of your body that becomes its next intended victim.

The habit randomly starts off with a girl's trip to Mexico in March. Sunscreen is packed, new bathing suits are bought, and a quick bikini wax is scheduled to make sure nothing was seen while on the beach. All in all, you're well prepared for a week long vacation in the sun.

Upon returning, all tan and relaxed, Matt comments on how smooth you feel as he nuzzles into your skin while working his way down your body and over your cunt. He takes his time using his mouth and fingers to get you off, rubbing his face into you, marveling at the lack of hair.

At first you enjoy it, how smooth it feels against his skin and the way he reacts to it. But afterwards, keeping your body as smooth as possible, knowing how sensitive his skin is, it becomes an…obsession.

Add in multiple social media images that encourage you to be as hair-free as possible, and it’s easy to understand how quickly you alter your routine to include it.

Full bikini waxes turn into the waxing of your entire legs. This is normal, you tell yourself, because it is. Plenty of people wax their legs. It’s easier, especially in the summer, to sit through a few minutes of having your hair savagely removed rather than shave every day. Like the bikini wax, it quickly turns into a habit. 

It’s not long before you add in getting your arms taken care of, your underarms waxed, your eyebrows shaped (thought this is done for more of a cosmetic look, if you’re honest). Appointments take over an hour long as chunks of your unwanted body hair are mercilessly ripped out by the root and deposited into a trash can.

Matt loves the way your skin feels, he tells you. And you love giving the feeling to him.

Until you just...don’t.

“Where would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?” he asks one evening as he rubs his fingers down your thighs, resting in bed with you after a heated session of him fucking the living daylights out of you. There will be an ache between your thighs for a day or two, you’re sure, though it'll be the most worthwhile pain in your life. “That new restaurant opened up on 42nd a few weeks ago. The menu sounds like something we’d enjoy.”

You shift awkwardly in his arms. “We don’t have to go anywhere. Can’t we just make something here? Or at my place?”

Matt’s not easily persuaded, even as you squirm against him, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. “We haven’t gone out in a while. Let’s go try something new.”

You lower your eyes from his face, fidgeting with the top sheet laying over you. “I just don’t feel like going anywhere.”

Matt’s fingers pause against your thigh. “Is everything okay?” he asks, shifting and pulling his head back as if to better focus on you. His sightless eyes land somewhere to your left as he frowns. “You always love going out.”

You shrug, attempting to appear nonchalant, though you know you’re failing. “I do love going out. I just don’t know if tomorrow night is the right night.”

He sits up now, a look of concern heavy on his face as the silk sheet slides down to his hips. The soft light of the moon streaming in from his window illuminates the scars that sit upon his skin like fading lightning bolts. “What’s going on? This isn’t like you.”

“Nothing–”

“Why are you lying?” The question that spills out of his mouth is almost firm and hesitant at the same time, as if he’s demanding an answer, but nervous about what it might be. “Is it something I did? Do you…not want to be seen with me?”

Your eyes widen in horror as you sit up next to him, hand flying to the side of his face so your fingers can run lightly over his cheek bone. He usually would lean his face into your hand, but he refrains this time, and the lack of his response causes your heart to ache. This man, always so fierce as he prowls Hell’s Kitchen at night, battles with the idea of deserving love, and you hate that you may have caused him an ounce of self-doubt. “No! No, Matt. Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Then why?”

You sigh, eyes landing on the fresh set of bruises that litter across his collar bone. “I can’t…I can’t afford it right now.” And it’s 100% the truth. Waxing almost every inch of your body has cut into your monthly budget, and you cringe every time when you hand over your credit card. A few hundred bucks makes a major difference in your ability to go do fun things, either with Matt or your friends, and sacrifices have been made. 

You often find yourself wishing that you could use those at home gel waxing kits, knowing how much cheaper they are, but you’re terrified to burn your more…sensitive area.

Matt almost sags in relief, and a sudden brief grin flickers across his face. “Is that all it is? Because it’s no issue, sweetheart. It can be my treat.”

“No, that’s really not necessary,” you object immediately, shaking your head. He pays more often than not, regardless of how hard you try to pay you fair share. He’s a sneaky little shit, always handing the waiter his credit card before you can even pull out your wallet. 

It had taken you literally chucking your credit card at the server last time in order to get the jump on Matt, and the grin that made an appearance on your face was almost smug. He grumbled about it the whole way back to his apartment, then fucked you against his the wall of his entry way, panting in your ear that you were his to take care of. “Let’s just go in a few weeks after I’ve saved enough. Please?”

He observes you quietly before he nods reluctantly. “Okay, sweetheart. We can do that,” he agrees softly, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “What should we make for tomorrow night? Are you feeling pasta?”

He pulls you back down to sprawl across his chest, and the rest of the night goes on without a hitch. Crisis averted.

—

You’re always careful to not schedule plans with Matt the day of or day after you get waxed, knowing he’ll easily smell the scent all over your body. You know he’s obviously aware that you’ve continued your bikini waxing as that one is a little harder to hide, but you don’t necessarily want him to pick up on the fact that you’ve started stripping nearly your whole body of any hair you've come to think of as undesirable.

It’s not that you’re nervous for him to know, it’s just that you don’t want him to feel like you’re only doing it for him. Even if you were to tell him you weren’t, he’d see right through the lie. The man is a ball of guilt enough as it is.

But as hard as you try, your practiced evasion tactics are finally peeled back and revealed.

He catches you on a random Thursday night while you’re at home, sliding himself in through your window, asking if you can clean a laceration on the part of his back he can’t quite reach. He greets you with a sweet kiss, his lips moving lightly over yours while he brushes the back of his knuckles over your cheek bone.

Antiseptic, gauze, medical tape and a clean cloth soaked in warm water are set on the table within a few minutes, and his bloody shirt is soaked and rubbed with hydrogen peroxide before being tossed into your washer. He sits at your kitchen table, a mixture of smooth skin, scars, and old and fresh bruises creating a kaleidoscope of colors over his back.

“What’s that smell?” He asks when you’re done wiping him clean and bandaging him up, tilting his head to the left, the way he always does when he’s curious about something. You freeze briefly in the middle of cleaning up the supplies, before continuing and tossing the used items in the trash can.

“What smell?”

“It smells…kinda oily? Waxy? I’m not quite  sure how to describe it,” he answers, looking a little puzzled. “And there’s some kind of lotion or something over the top of it.”

“Oh,” you say, acting surprised, though you aren’t. You knew the second he said something exactly what he was talking about; it was something you’ve tried to avoid him smelling, knowing it might bring up some questions that you don't necessarily feel like answering. “I got waxed today. They always put a serum on the skin when they’re done.”

He grins with a light nod. Puzzle solved. “That’s it, that makes sense.” He gets up from the table and walks over to you, footsteps annoyingly silent on the floor, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He pushes your hair to the side and places a gentle kiss on the back of your neck. “I do like it when you’re smooth,” he says with a sigh, hand drifting between your legs suggestively. “Feels so good against my skin.”

You try not to wince, but fail.

Matt’s mouth makes its way down the side of your neck and onto the bare shoulder where your t-shirt has slipped off every so slightly. He pauses abruptly and inhales. “You smell like wax up here, too.”

Fuck.

“Yeah. I get my underarms waxed, too,” you tell him as you rest your head back against his shoulder. He rests his against yours and presses a kiss to your cheek. “It’s much easier to maintain in the summer.”

“But it’s October,” he comments, voice laced with humor.

You stumble over your words as you answer. “Right. I started over the summer, and I decided to keep doing it because it’s easier to take care of compared to shaving.”

Matt lets go of you, turns you around, and takes a step back, head tilted at you as his eyes dance around your kitchen sightlessly. “What else do you get waxed?”

You shift on your feet, realizing there’s no way to lie now, not with the way he's fully locked in on everything you say and do. “My arms…and my legs.”

His eyebrows raise slightly. “Why do you do that?” He sounds more curious than anything, and it's almost a relief. It’s not like it’s necessarily a big deal, him knowing, you just think it would be easier if he didn't.

Shrugging your shoulders, you take a large sip of the water that’s on the counter next to you to avoid sounding flustered. “I like doing it.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” 

You laugh, hating the way it sounds almost nervous, even to your own ears. “Well, yeah. But it’s not that bad.”

“And you think it’s worth it?”

“I mean, it feels good afterwards,” you say, waving your hand nonchalantly. “Don’t you think so? You like it smooth, right? It feels good against your skin.”

Matt’s jaw drops a fraction of any inch as his eyes widen ever so slightly. You curse inwardly, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “Are you–are you doing this because you think I need you to?”

“No!” You rush out immediately, unsettled that he’s picked up on it so quickly. “I like it, too.”

“But you said it hurts, right?”

“Well, yes,” you answer honestly, because there’s no reason to lie about that. It does hurt, both during the appointment and hours later when your skin is almost too sensitive to touch. “But it really isn’t that bad, I promise. It just makes my skin feel nice, so I keep going back.”

“Your skin already feels nice,” Matt asserts, the frown on his face deepening. He takes another step back from you, creating some space between the two of you. “You don’t need to get rid of all your hair for it to feel that way.”

“No, I know that.”

His eyebrows knit together as if suddenly something abruptly occurs to him. "And just how expensive is it?” He asks, and the tone sounds vaguely suspicious. All movement within you freezes, unprepared for the question.

You clear your throat. “It’s…not that much.”

“How expensive?” He repeats, eyes narrowing. He's always managed to put two and two together rather quickly when faced with a question he feels needs answered as soon as possible. And while you are endlessy enraptured by his intellect, by his perseverance, you sometimes wish he would just let things go.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You know he probably won’t like this answer either, even though he knows you’re a grown adult who can handle your own finances. He worries about you, always making it his personal mission to make sure you're taken care of, despite your assurances that you're fine. “A few hundred bucks a month.”

Matt’s eyes widen more drastically this time, his eyebrows shooting up. “A few hundred–”

“I mean, it’s worth it, right?” You hurriedly interrupt him, eyeing the way he’s two seconds away from pacing around your kitchen, something he does when he’s a little frustrated. At this point in your relationship, you're shocked he hasn't worn a hole into your living room carpet. “You said you like the way it feels against your skin.”

“Are you–please don’t tell me you’re doing this just for me,” he says again, echoing his earlier question. You grimace at the way guilt has started seeping into his voice.

This is exactly what you've been trying to avoid.

“I’m not! But you literally just said a few minutes ago how much you like it when I’m smooth.”

He looks at you incredulously. “It feels nice, but not like this. I thought you were doing it because you wanted to.”

“But I am doing it because I want to.”

“Are you doing it because you actually want to? Or are you doing it because you want to give me something you think I want?”

You shift on your feet awkwardly, the floorboard creaking ever so slightly underneath your weight. “Does the distinction matter?”

“Of course it does,” he says adamantly, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t need this. Your skin feels soft no matter what. You don’t need to wax all of your hair off for me to enjoy touching you.”

You lick your lips nervously. “But–”

He cuts you off. “You said it hurts, right?”

“I…yes.”

“And it’s expensive?”

“Yes.” You can’t deny it, not when he’s hounding you like this.

“Expensive enough that you don’t do any of the other things you enjoy anymore because you can’t afford it.” It’s not a question.

You’re silent for a second. He absolutely hit the nail on the head with that one, and you know denying it will only make things worse. "Yes.”

“Then why?”

“You like soft things,” you admit with another lift and fall of your shoulders. “I know how sensitive your skin is. I thought you’d like it if I made things soft for you.”

Matt closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. “I only like those things if you like them. I couldn’t give less of a fuck either way, whether you want to strip yourself bare or not. It’s you that I want.”

“I–”

“None of the other details matter,” he says with a suddenly quiet sigh. He steps back into your space to grab your face between his hands. “You could shave your head, pierce yourself all over, gain thirty pounds. I really don’t care about any of it, as long as I’ve got you.”

Your eyes flit over his face, looking for one ounce of dishonesty and finding none. Just red lips, brown eyes tinted with green, and the laugh lines you love so much. You lean into him with a quiet exhale, and he takes the opportunity to wrap you fully in his arms, his bare chest a burning line through your t-shirt.

“So…I should stop?” You ask hesitantly, your voice as quiet as his now.

His voice is insistent when he answers. “If you want to. I want you to do what you want." 

“And you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not one bit,” he reaffirms, hand pushing itself into your hair. He massages your scalp lightly, the motion a familiar one that always soothes you. Like a charm, you moan as you do your best to push your head further into his palm. His quiet laugh follows the action, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

He knows what this does to you, and he's using the knowledge against you, the asshole.

“I’ll be a little prickly for a bit,” you tell him almost absentmindedly, still somewhat focused on the way his fingers are digging slightly into the back of your head.

He snorts inelegantly into your ear. “Does my stubble bother you?”

The random question makes you pause as your mouth opens, confused. “No, why?”

“Then why do you think I’ll be bothered by yours?”

“But–”

His hands drop to your ass as he picks you up suddenly, and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist, your face slightly above his as he titls his head up so that his lips are just under yours. You’re careful to situate yourself in a way that doesn’t irritate the cut between his shoulder blades. You watch as slow smirk lights up his face. “Just shut up and let me tell you how much I love you no matter what.”

A smile breaks out across your face, the first one since he climbed through your window an hour before. “Why don’t you make me?”

He pulls your mouth down to his, and with a laugh, sets you on your counter, pulls off your clothes, and presses his love into your skin.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[buckyownsmylife]

My Mistakes - Henry Cavill Smut

The one where Henry Cavill was your married professor and he appears on your door one night after his life falls apart.

Warnings: smut, no actual cheating in Henry’s end (althought that’s open for consideration), professor-student relationship (the student’s supposed to be in the process of achieving a PhD), dirty talk (hello, it’s me), sir kink, praise kink, actually quite a lot of fluff because these two are idiots in love

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Henry? What are you doing here?”

Behind him, the rain poured in what would probably be the last summer storm of the year. Once in a while, loud thunder echoed around my empty house, making me jump every single time. Lord knows how much I hated lightning and thunder. 

His curls stuck to his head, some strands in front of his beautiful eyes that held so much emotion I couldn’t identify, but reacted to it nonetheless, goosebumps traveling across my body and my heart speeding up at the sight of my advisor in front of me, in my apartment, on a Saturday night. Granted, he had been here before, but those days of carefree conversations and shared nights where we’d bond over work to grade had disappeared the minute he said ‘I do’ and hid once more behind the shell I had worked so hard to break when we first met. Sure, I missed him. But I also understood the situation, especially now that he had a kid. He was someone else, he had new roles to fill and he was still getting used to his new responsibilities. I was just glad he still confided in me once in a while, allowing me to catch glances of the Henry that I used to know, the one I considered a friend. 

Still, it was probably for the best. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to continue our relationship as it was without suffering considerably, knowing I could never have him, now that he was married. When it was only dating I could deal with it, deluding myself into believing we could actually have something more, that he felt the same way I did when our hands eventually touched while sharing a bottle of wine. 

And there was that night. God, it seemed like a million years ago. We had managed to bring one of his colleagues to do a guest lecture to our class and the whole research group was in a frenzy, the relaxation after so many months of hard work and organization finally starting to hit us. They had all come here, to my house, even the invited professor and his students, and we drank together and laughed for hours. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the fact that I had an exam first thing in the morning, I was having too much fun. 

And not because of our honorable guest, my friends, or the new people I had the opportunity of meeting, oh no. It was all because of Henry. That night, it seemed like all his walls had completely disappeared, leaving a funny, breezy, touchy man behind. I had seen glimpses of this personality before, the one I assumed was his true personality, the one that he never showed to anyone, not even his wife or his mother. It only appeared when we were alone and he was drunk and something incredibly sentimental had happened, like when we had achieved the publication of one of our papers.

The last two boxes were checked, only this time we weren’t alone. But we might as well have been. He clung to me the whole night, even offering me scotch from his own glass before pulling me to him by my waist and wrapping his arms around me, warming me up from the cold breeze of the early morning on my roof. Daniel softly played something on my old guitar and in that moment I knew I would never love anyone just as much as I loved the broken, lonely, needy man holding me.

But then in the morning, he was back to his usual aloof self. And I was left wondering if I had imagined the whole thing, until suddenly he’d look at me in a certain way and I was right back to that moment, in his arms.

Yep. I had it bad for the guy. Good thing ever since he had become a father, we barely saw each other anymore. Whatever little meetings we had, shared cups of coffee and laughter, had vanished the moment his wife found out she was pregnant. It was cute, even, how dedicated he was to little Frank. But that also meant that whatever complaints about marriage and her, that he used to confide in me during those first months after they tied the knot, had simply vanished. They were suddenly the perfect little family.

And I was happy for him. Of course I was. All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me. After all, what right did I have over him, when we had never even shared a kiss?

Which is what left the whole situation of him appearing in my house in the middle of the night, during a storm, even more bizarre.

“What are you doing here?” I finally let out, rushing him inside. “Come in, you must be freezing.” He didn’t budge. Still staring intently at me, his eyes, that I used to be able to read so well, now indecipherable. 

“He’s not mine,” he whispered, so quietly I barely heard him over the sounds of the storm around him.

“What? Henry, you’re not making any sense right now. Come in, please, you’re worrying me.” Still, he didn’t budge. His tongue came out to wet his lips and I found myself briefly mesmerized by that sight, wondering not for the first time how it would be like to kiss him.

“Frank,” he spoke, breaking me out of my little fantasy at the name of his child. “He’s not mine… He’s not my kid.”

My heart stopped briefly. I knew my eyes had grown twice their usual size, trying to process that information that was so randomly introduced to me in such a weird situation. 

“What? Wait, are you sure? But…” My breath was coming out in quick, shallow huffs, the weight of what he had just shared threatening to asphyxiate me. “How are you feeling, Henry? Wait, that’s a dumb question… Just… Come in, please, let me help you. Let’s talk.” I reached for him, aching to feel him, needing to check his physical integrity for myself. That kid was all he had thought about for the last four months. I knew this discovery had to be killing him.

He shook his head, one of his hands moving his hair out of the way. For a moment, I thought he was refusing my touch and so I let my arms fall next to my body as I pondered just what the hell he was doing here in the first place. 

“You don’t understand. He’s not mine.” He rubbed his eyes and I felt a wave of anger wash over me. Of course I understood what he had said, I wasn’t stupid. The only thing I didn’t understand was what the hell he was doing at my door at two in the morning with this kind of news. “I have no connection to her anymore. To them,” he finally declared and I blinked twice, confused by what precisely he meant by that. “I’m free,” he proceeded, his eyes never leaving mine, still clouded with emotions I remained unable to understand.

“You were never tied to her, or even to him, Henry. You chose that life. You walked into that marriage with your own two feet,” I reminded him, my voice a bit colder than I intended. 

“True,” he admitted, nodding quickly. “But the minute I said ‘I do’ I realized my mistake. What I had left behind, and thought I would never be able to have anymore. And feeling that way… It was worse than any physical imprisonment, Y/N. ”

I had grown impatient by then, my fingers tapping a random pattern at the wooden door I still held onto.

“And what was that, Henry? What did you leave behind?” I inquired, sighing.

A beat. Outside, the storm roared, announcing its intention to stay for as long as it could. Inside, the tension was so high I started to wonder if lightning was about to fall between us, separating us for good.

“You,” he finally confessed and before I could fully comprehend what he had just spluttered, he had latched himself into me, his lips finding mine and his arms pulling me to his wet body. 

A gasp of surprise must have left me before I responded to the kiss, but the sound had been lost in the rain the minute it left my lips and his joined mine. They were cold, as expected, but softer than I had imagined, and oh, how had I imagined this moment. He kissed me sweetly, patiently, like he was savoring his favorite wine that we had shared once. His fingers trembled against my waist as he held me close and I absentmindedly worried about the possibility of him catching pneumonia when he, at last, broke our kiss to catch a breath, still leaving his forehead close to mine, his eyes closed and I suddenly realized he was nervous.

I shivered, not entirely due to the fact that he was freezing from the weather he had subjected himself to and had left me drenched too. “Henry,” I mumbled, trying to get him to look at me. 

“Shhhh…” He pulled me even closer, our foreheads still touching, his eyes never opening. “Just… Let me have this moment, please,” he all but begged, and I felt my heart breaking into a thousand little pieces. He was hurt, understandably so and he had come here looking for a way to make his wife feel the way she had made him feel. 

Another type of cold filled me as I took a step back from him, forcing Henry to release me. I caught a glimpse of his expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me just before I turned my back to him, hugging myself and trying to control my thoughts before I started crying. 

“You should leave.” I hated how my voice broke, how weak I felt as I murmured what my mind knew I should say, despite the way my body felt.

I heard the door close behind me after a few seconds and allowed myself to release the breath I was holding as I waited for his reaction, the tears breaking free by then. The first sob had just escaped my chest when I felt arms wrapping around me, a freezing body hugging me from behind.

He waited patiently as I cried, his face hidden in the crook of my neck, his breath tickling me and warming me up as I sobbed. I cried for what felt like hours, the anger of what he was putting me through subsiding and leaving me lamenting for this man who had lost his entire family in a few seconds. 

“You can’t do this to me, Henry,” I wearily breathed out when the tears finally stopped rolling down my cheeks, still not turning around to look at him, who still hugged me. 

“I know,” he confirmed, as he finally raised his head from my neck to rest it on the top of my head. I pursed my lips, wanting to leave him yet again but lacking the strength to do so a second time. “Believe me, I know, darling.”

He finally let me go, walking around me to catch my face in his hands. “You deserve better. So much better than this. So much better than me. You deserve someone who will admit their feelings the minute they lay their eyes on you because you’re intoxicating from the first sight, Y/N.” 

I couldn’t uncross my arms, afraid that if I let at least this last barrier between us go I’d crumble in front of him and let him devour whatever was left of me. 

“You deserve someone who won’t cower in a loveless relationship because they are too afraid to pursue the love of their lives, because they’re scared they’ll disappoint you. I already did. I know.” He sighed, his thumb caressing my cheek with the lightest of touches. 

“You especially deserve someone who doesn’t hide all the time, despite wanting to break free every time you smile or glance my way.” His eyes searched mine, trying to make me see the sincerity in them, but I refused to acknowledge it. This time, I was the one who refused to let him in. 

I broke the connection between our gazes, looking down. I heard his sigh, feeling its echoes on the walls of my heart. 

“I know I lost my opportunity with you,” he whispered, his voice laced with so much pain I had to bite back a whine. “But as soon as I heard the news, as soon as I figured it out… I didn’t even feel angry or sad. I know I should have felt miserable. In a way, I lost a son tonight. But all I could think about was that night I told you I’d be stuck in my office all night grading papers, when in fact I just didn’t want to go home and deal with Olivia, and you appeared with pizza and my favorite bottle of wine, despite the fact that I know that you had Smith’s exam the next day. You stayed with me all night, making idle talk that distracted me to the point I forgot I was engaged and that I had someone waiting for me back home. All I could think about was how that is how it should be. That’s how I should feel every night when I come home. But I only felt it with you. And now that I was given this second chance, this opportunity to go back to a life without the responsibility of being a father, forever connected to a woman I don’t love, I could finally have what I wanted. You.”

My eyes had closed sometime during his remembrance, lost in the flashback too. I had fallen asleep sometime during the early hours of the morning and he took off his jacket to cover me, as I lay on the sofa of his office. The same couch I had found him asleep so many times, as well. I still hugged myself, at last starting to believe he might feel the same way as I did. 

I felt a cold kiss against my forehead, one of his hands gripping my nape tightly to him before letting go. “But I should have known I lost my opportunity. You will find happiness in a relationship sometime soon, with someone good, someone who deserves you and I will be here, wishing you all the best because you deserve it.” I heard his footsteps walking away from me. I wanted to turn around, to open my eyes, to pull him to me and talk about this, talk about how I was feeling about this whole situation, but I felt stuck. And then I heard it.

“Because I love you,” he heaved and suddenly I was not frozen anymore. I was connected to him again, our lips furiously dancing together as I clung to him for dear life. He moaned against my mouth and I felt as if the flames of hell had come to consume me in that precise moment.

His hands slowly traveled down my back until they found my ass. He pulled me to him and I jumped, wrapping my legs around him as I caught onto his signal. My own hands were occupied, one pulling on his hair as I tried to win control over our kiss while the other supported me around his shoulders.

He wobbled a bit, blindly walking backward until his back hit the wall. He turned around then, supporting me against it as he once again disconnected our lips to catch his breath, pressing his forehead to mine once more. “Are you sure about this?” I couldn’t help but to slur, my fingers holding the edge of his button-up shirt tightly. “I can’t be just a revenge plot against your wife, Henry. I honestly don’t think I can take it,” I confessed, inciting the tiniest of smiles on the corner of his lips.

“Darling, you couldn't be more wrong,” he whispered against my lips, quickly kissing them before continuing. “I am the one who wouldn’t be able to live without you for a single minute more. I can’t remember how I lived before you, Y/N. I don’t want to remember it. I’d rather die than cause you pain and make you leave me. I know how lucky I am for getting this second chance.”

I accepted his words, not being able to deal with the separation of our lips another second. We were eager now, trying to make up for all the time we had to keep our desires in check. His hands held my jaw as he possessed my mouth and I clung to his shirt tightly as I tried to deal with the desire burning my lower belly. 

“I have never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly,” I admitted, licking my lips as he chuckled, caressing my cheek as he laid warm open-mouthed kisses against the skin of my neck.

“I have never wanted to fuck anyone this badly,” he confessed, biting in a particular spot in my neck that made my legs feel like jelly. “But tonight I think I will make love to you first.”

His eyes searched mine then, looking for any sign of indecisiveness, but there was none. I knew I wanted him since he first smiled at me, three years before. I kissed his thumb that played with my cheeks, nodding my acceptance to his proposal.

“I love you too,” I finally professed and he rewarded me with the sweetest of smiles.

Henry’s P.O.V.

I captured her lips again, not quite believing this turn of events. I finally had her. She was finally mine. 

We kissed feverishly, our hands never stopping too long in one single place. It was like she felt it too, this need to feel every piece of skin, of guaranteeing the other person was really there, was actually real. Before long, I felt her trembling hands make their way inside my shirt and I sighed, barely believing this was real. She pulled on the fabric and I all but ripped the buttons off of my work shirt before throwing it somewhere behind me and returning my focus on the exploration of the gorgeous woman that was now looking at me with those wide eyes I loved so much.

“Don’t give me that look,” I warned her, only receiving the cheekiest of smiles as a response and a growl rose from under my chest. I pulled her to meet my lips again, this time taking us away from the wall and into the old leather couch just behind us. I laid her carefully on the warm material, pushing away a few rebellious strands of hair that insisted on shielding her eyes from mine.

For a few seconds, we simply stared at one another, our eyes silently communicating what our mouths didn’t seem to be able to speak in the moment. She looked so beautiful, even more than I already thought she did, with her lips red from my assault and a dark bruise already forming in her silky skin from my bite. 

I had to take a few deep breaths to control myself, already feeling my pants tighten as the reality of what was to happen hit me. Y/N licked her lips, her eyes showing every bit the same desire I felt run through my veins. “Like what you see?” she teased me, earning a breathy laugh that let on how nervous I actually felt. 

“You have no idea,” I admitted, leaning down to kiss her forehead sweetly before laying kisses across her face, over her lids, on each side of her cheeks, on the tip of her nose before deciding to nibble on her jaw. She shivered, her hands coming up to my curls once again, holding me to her. 

I inhaled the sweet perfume that often overtook my senses whenever she was near me. It was like an aphrodisiac to me, it never failed to get me hard. Many times I had to abruptly leave her talking by herself to tend to my member in my bathroom, imagining my hands were hers.

“You make me crazy,” I confessed, my voice hoarse as I continued my path across her skin, now licking her neck, trying not to lose my mind over the tremulous moans she let escape every time I discovered a particular spot that seemed to get to her. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Teasingly, I bit right over one of her collarbones, immediately regretting my taunt as her hands found the bulge in my pants and rubbed it. 

“I could say the same thing,” she retaliated, tongue stuck between her teeth as she watched with focused interest as I threw my head back and groaned. 

“Damnit, woman, I’m trying to make this last,” I tried to lecture her, failing spectacularly as she managed to pop my button and reach inside my boxers to find me, bare and hot, pulsing for her. 

“Not interested,” she raised her back off the couch, forcing me to sit back on my heels, as she took control of the situation. “I’ve waited too long for this. If you want to make love to me, as you say, do it quickly, I need you now.” 

It was impossible not to react to her. This sweet, bubbly woman, suddenly dominant and sure of herself and what she wanted. Fuck, if that didn’t make her even sexier to my eyes. 

Still, I managed to control myself, slowly caressing her thighs with my trembling fingers until I reached the edge of her nightgown, raising it up as I continued my path across her body. Her heavy breasts came into view, her nipples hard and begging for attention. I was quick to connect my lips to one, caressing the other with one of my hands.

She moaned then, her hands coming up to pull on my hair once more as she ground down against me and I groaned at the sensation of her wet panties against my member. I had half a mind to pull my jeans all the way down, take her to bed, do this sweetly and romantically like I had planned I would do if I had the opportunity to lay with her at least once, but she was making this too difficult for me. Her tiny whimpers escaped her lips freely as I changed nipples, slightly biting on one, making her throw her head back and whine.

“Stop teasing me so much,” she begged, rubbing herself against me once more, making the decision for me, as I couldn’t stand to feel her heat and not be inside of her any longer.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I heard him growl before I realized I had finally broken him. In a second, he had thrown himself at me, forcing me to lie down on the couch as I shivered against the cold air as his hands made quick work of my nightgown. When the sounds of his belt coming off at last rang in my ears, I couldn’t help the moan escaping my lips at the realization that this was finally happening.

“I wanted to do this nice and slow, take my time with you, worship your body in the way it deserves to be cherished, but did you allow that?” His voice was so raspy it kept reigniting the goosebumps across my skin, and as his fingers finally pressed my soaking wet panties against that spot that had been throbbing for attention, I felt like I could come right then and there. “Of course not,” he answered himself, his focus directed to where his fingers were now exploring. “Everything has to be done in your time, isn't it, miss Y/L/N?” 

Growing tired of the cotton barrier between us, he finally pulled it aside to softly collect the evidence of what he was doing to me, but didn’t make any movement towards actually relieving me of my needs. “Answer me, darling,” he whispered in my ear as softly as possible, but I knew that tone and it hid danger.

“Y-yes, sir,” I babbled without thinking and by that point, I would do anything to have him inside of me.

“Good girl.” That was all the warning I received before his member pushed its way inside of me, but as it provoked a whole new wave to pour out of me, it wasn’t as difficult as it would have been otherwise. Still, it took me some time to relax and allow his full length to penetrate me, as it was considerably large and thick.

I gasped as the head of his cock bumped my cervix. “There you go, sweetheart.” He smiled down at me, giving a quick peck to my temple. “I knew you’d be able to take it.”

I moaned at his words, incredibly excited about the fact that he apparently knew I had a praise kink. Maybe I wasn’t as cautious as I thought I was being when he complimented my work? There was no way I would dwell on this any longer, however, as he finally started to slowly thrust in and out of me, his little grunts and pants making me all the more horny.

“You’re so tight, baby girl,” he groaned, throwing his head back for a second, his eyes closed, giving me the perfect opportunity to admire his jaw and neck. “I don’t know how I managed to fit inside of you, but let me tell you…” his head had returned to my ear, before finding a nook on my neck and hiding there. “Now that I’m here, I’m never gonna leave,” he whispered against my skin, picking up his thrusts just as I started to need a little more from him.

“Good,” I managed to moan out, to which he chuckled. He continued to fuck me against my couch, permanently ruining my pussy and the fabric underneath us, as our juices slowly dripped onto it. It didn’t take long for him to bring me close to the edge, and I was trembling in his arms after a few seconds of feeling the head of his cock bumping against my sweet spot.

“Feeling needy, baby girl? Do you want to cum?” I struggled to nod, but it seemed to suffice him. “Then come for me, darling. I’m right behind you. Cum for me.” His thumb found my bundle of nerves and just like that, I was falling down the pits of desire. Throwing my head back, I pulled his chest to me, my nails certainly leaving marks across his back for him to remember me later on.

I absentmindedly noticed the sounds I was making, but as my walls throbbed around his cock, I was too far gone to care. Henry kissed the side of my face as I came until I was capable of focusing my gaze on him once more. As I did, I found him looking at him with a particular glint in his eyes, a look so soft that made my heart feel twice the normal size.

“Is it possible to love too much?” He asked, and I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came. Instead, he simply adjusted to be able to speed up into me, now fucking me into my couch in a way that made it sure I would never be able to sit in it without thinking about him again. I heard his groans of pleasure as he reached his own high, and I felt him spill into me as he did so.

We stayed connected as he calmed down. As we both calmed down, because my heart was still beating as fast as if I had been running a marathon. After a while, he kissed my shoulder and sat up, his cock leaving me. “You’re perfect,” he whispered into the night.

I followed his movements, also sitting up on the couch, enjoying how he immediately pulled me into his lap, like he couldn’t bear the thought of our skins not touching. The rain had almost stopped, I realized. No more lightning or thunder had echoed throughout the house for a long while.

“Do you really love me?” I found myself whispering into the quiet of the night. For a few seconds, he said nothing, but then he was pushing me away from his chest just enough so that he could stare back at me. 

“You ask me like you have given me any other option.” My giggles echoed throughout the house.

“I love you too.” And for once, everything felt right.

[thewritingstar]

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch 

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls 

Rating: T

Word count: 6k 

Warnings: Major Character Death. 

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :) 

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

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The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

..

.

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

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She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

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Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says. 

BAM!

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

​​✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

I hope you enjoyed! 

[snowdice]

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 35]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. Chapter 13 and what I have done of Chapter 14 is under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today.

The Gobiln Brain is a problem today. I’d planned to start like 2 hours ago. :/

Remy was slumped down in his seat as Emile continued to lecture him on all the possible consequences of his actions in the past 24 hours. Jeezy creezy was Emile miffed about all of that. Remy had been trying to blow it off, but Emile was fully, painfully aware that he almost had lost his brother today and Remy was going to hear about it until Emile’s lungs aches.

“And another thing…” he said.

“Wait,” Remy said, and Emile did because there was a lace of panic to his tone.

“What?” Emile asked.

“The tracker stopped working,” Remy answered pushing buttons a little bit desperately on his device.

“It went completely offline somehow,” Remy said.

“Did it get turned off?” Emile asked. “Or run out of batteries?”

“It doesn’t turn off and the batteries are designed to last for years,” Remy said. “It can even track through 20 feet of water. The only way it could stop sending a single this abruptly is if the thing was destroyed.”

Emile paused. “You said Virgil knows what the blinking light means.”

“Yes.”

“Is it possible that he knows, or well, ‘knows,’ you’re dead? Barbara did send a man after him, he could have mentioned it.”

Remy stared down at the device in his hands.

He pressed a couple of buttons and studied the screen for a moment. “You little shit,” he groaned. “You threw it out the fucking car window, didn’t you?”

“How do you know?” Emile asked.

“Because if I look at the history, it was going at 65 miles per hour down the interstate, suddenly stopped cold, and then broke when another car inevitably crushed it.”

“Ah.”

“Well, at least the fucker’s probably okay. Dammit Virgil! Where are you going?” Remy pushed a few more buttons almost idly as he thought. “Let me get into Virgil’s head for a minute: emo music, dark clothes, would rather have his toenails ripped out than go to parties, makes split second decisions based on little info. Yep! Got him.”

Emile rolled his eyes, but Remy wouldn’t have noticed as he had his own eyes closed. “Hmm. So, I’m Virgil. My bitch mom killed my dad and sent someone after me. I have no idea what’s going on, but I bolt out of there because fuck mom. I want to get the hell out of dodge so I convince someone to drive me somehow, I guess, but where would I want to go? Someplace safe. Where’s safe? Maybe Emile, but obviously that’s not where he went. Or Janus, but he’s too connected to mom. I don’t really no anyone else, especially not someone who could help with this sort of stuff.”

Remy thought for another long moment. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Emile asked. “What oops?”

He could tell by the expression on Remy’s face that he was not going to like the answer. “I may have let something… slip.”

“What do you mean, Remington?”

“Um, well you see,” Remy said. “A couple of months ago Virgil was being, you know, himself: a little shit. He may have, possibly, found some papers.”

“What kind of papers?” Emile asked.

“They were nothing important!” Remy assured. “There wasn’t any dangerous info in them or anything, but…”

“But?”

“It is somewhat possible that they had the name on them.”

“How possible?” Emile asked, eyes narrowed on him.

“He asked what Green Bellow Foods was and why they needed 50 top of the line computers outfitted at an old factory.”

“And what did you tell him?!”

“Nothing!”

Emile glared at him.

“Okay, well I had to tell him something,” Remy mentioned. “I just kind of said that I knew the owner well and was working with him on some stuff. Then I told him not to worry about it, which was probably a mistake, because he’s Virgil. So, then I found him snooping in my car. At that point I had to sit him down and talk to him. So, I told him a bit about Logan.”

“Remy that’s not nothing!”

“I didn’t use his name or anything. I just told him a couple of really, extremely, tremendously, vague stories, so he didn’t think I owed money to the mafia. Which, yes, he did suggest.”

“That’s worse!”

“What do you want from me Emile?!”

“Some common sense!” Emile answered. “I’ve been comparing you to the rat in Ratatouille for years, but I’m starting to think you’re more of a Pinky from Pinky and the Brain.”

“Hey, ouch,” Remy replied. “Also, I personally subscribe to the theory that Pinky is actually the intelligent one who is foiling Brain’s evil plots from the inside. So, there.”

“Now is not the time,” Emile said.

“Oh, it’s not the time to discuss cartoon theories?” Remy mumbled into his lap. “Must be serious.”

“It is serious! Virgil is missing!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Remy snapped. “I know, Emile.”

There was quiet. Emile took a breath. “Okay,” he said, calmer. “Do you really think he’s going to Logan?”

“He’s headed somewhere,” Remy answered, “and wherever that somewhere is, it’s inexplicably down the most direct route towards base.”

“Well, Virgil is smart. I don’t think he’d just keep going so quickly without a destination in mind. We should call Logan.”

“Do you honestly believe Barbara doesn’t have your phone tapped when Virgil is missing? If you had one of Logan’s phones, I might agree with you, but as it is, we’d be giving away our position, and possibly clueing her in to Virgil’s plan. If he shows up at base, Logan will take him in no question asked. It’s less dangerous for everyone this way.”

“Fine,” Emile said. “We’ll just keep driving towards Logan and hope you’re right about where he’s going.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Remy said lightly. “I’ve got the paternal instincts going on. Course, they didn’t stop the knife throwing incident of ’09. I blame Janus for that, though.”

Emile shook his head at him.

“It is good for when he tries to steal sweets, or that one time he brought home a baby piglet and tried to hide it from me in his bedroom. Or when he’s feeling anxious about something but won’t tell me because he thinks it’s silly.” Remy’s own fingers tapped out an anxious pattern against his knee. “It also worked with the golf cart incident, but it was too late. Again, I blame Janus. He messes with the paternal instinct meter. He’s far too unpredictable and I make the mistake of thinking he’s responsible, which he is half the time, but the other half of the time I remember that he’s still mostly a kid and one that grew up in an unstable environment. Did I tell you that last month they went and won a bunch of tickets at the arcade and used them to get those 5 ticket rubber ducks and just unloaded them all over my room? Honestly, you’d think a 21-year-old would have a better use for his money or at least have the brains to go buy them at a store. He could have gotten like 500 more ducks for the same amount of money. Of course, it was his mom’s money, so I guess I can get behind wasting it on arcade games and rubber ducks. The prank was apparently based on some comedy sketch Virgil found online.”

“You’re doing the thing again,” Emile pointed out calmly.

“Stop psych evaluating me,” he shot back.

“Fine, fine,” Emile said. “Keep distracting yourself from your emotional responses with silly stories. See if I care.”

“Thank you,” Remy replied. “I will.”

Emile sighed as he started back up again mumbling something about having taken away Virgil’s Gameboy after catching him playing it at 3 o’clock in the morning. He claimed this wasn’t because the boy hadn’t gotten any sleep, but because he insulted Donkey Kong to Remy’s face. After that story had run its course, Remy continued to babble at an increasingly fast pace about all sorts of things. Emile imagined most of the stories he sprouted out were quite embellished.

He’d tried to turn on the radio once, but Remy had slapped his hand away saying, “The next one’s a really good one.” So, he had resigned himself to his fate of tuning out Remy’s coping mechanism to the best of his abilities and just focusing on driving for the next 45 minutes. Which is probably why he noticed that traffic had strangely decreased. He didn’t really pay that much mind until the traffic suddenly increased… in the form of a wall of stopped cars.

“Jenkies, what’s going on?” he asked, as he came to a stop at the end of the line of cars.

“Um…” Remy said looking out of his car window. There, staring into their car with beady black eyes was a cow. As Emile watched, said cow leaned forward to drag its tongue across the passenger side window. “Shit.”

Chapter 14

“You two doing okay back there?” Roman asked, glancing into the rearview window at them as he exited the interstate onto highway 236.

“We’re perfectly fine,” Janus replied evenly.

“Ow ow ow ow ow! You’re crushing me!” Remus complained. Janus was currently sitting on his chest, pinning him to the back seat.

“You should probably put your seatbelt on,” Roman advised.

“You’re probably right,” Janus agreed.

“No! Get off!” Remus said. “Or I’m going to scream!”

“Oh, because you don’t scream randomly when someone isn’t sitting on top of you?” Janus shot back. Roman officially liked Janus; he’d just decided. “Give me that!” Janus said, and a moment later, Remus’s phone was thrown into the passenger seat.

Remus whined and Roman glanced back at them once again, amused. That is when he caught sight of a car behind them. He glanced at his speedometer and then back at the car. Roman was currently going a little over 90mph, having slowed down a bit now that they were off the interstate. Yet, the car was gaining on them.

“Hey,” Roman said. “Wh-,” and that’s when a bullet came through the back window right past Janus’s head. “Holy fuck!” Roman screamed, swerving a bit before getting the car back under control. Remus grabbed Janus by the front of his shirt and pulled him down as more bullets rained on them courtesy of the car Roman had spotted. The glass from his car’s back window shattered over the two of them.

Roman pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator and started purposefully swerving to throw off their shots as Remus shoved Janus down onto the floor so he could lunge into the front seat. He grabbed the gun Roman stored in his glove box and loaded it with practiced ease.

“My bag,” Janus requested, and Remus threw the asked for object over his shoulder before rolling down the window.

“Methinks mommy dearest’s people may have found us,” Remus commented.

[thepaininurneck]

so not to literally get on my Tumblr for no reason and vent some but I saw a TikTok today talking about how Tumblr affected them/treated their eating disorder so I wanted to add my two cents for any of you remaining pro-anas or whatever you’re fucking calling yourselves now that tumblr banned your stupid tag or whatever, I haven’t checked since I was 14 and I won’t be changin that.

I started restricting my eating when I was 14. I’ve never been as bad about it as some people and I quickly learned to avoid pro-ana content ( to the point of avoiding Tumblr entirely for a while ), but I still avoided food where I could and it caused a lot of fights with my parents. But I’ve always been a small kid, so when I stopped putting on weight, it wasn’t obvious. The only time anyone would notice something was when I was trying to eat a meal around them.

I wasn’t active, either. I was homeschooled and, after moving twice, I wasn’t in any sports or groups ( like Girl Scouts or whatever ), so I could stay home and do nothing. I didn’t need energy - I just stayed in bed all day and ate when I was forced to. I stayed at around 90 pounds from ages 14-16, with no changes to my lifestyle until early 2019. I think I was 5’5 when I started restricting my food, and I’m currently 5’8 and a big bag of bones.

The first thing I want to say is this: it’s not pretty. My body is boney and angular in a way that’s reminiscent of horror, you can count every rib and every plate of my spine with your eyes. I can stick a finger under my collarbone, and if I suck in a little, I can get my hand under my hipbones. I feel ugly and like I can’t be graceful: I wear baggy clothes constantly and if I wear revealing clothes they can’t show my arms, or my back, or I feel gross. My legs were a huge insecurity for me for years too, and up until I made some huge changes recently, I had a fairly big thigh gap and my knees were as bony as the rest of me. It’s not pretty. There is nothing gorgeous or attractive about being this underweight, and not only does it make me despise my physical appearance more, the effects it has on my health are bad too.

I had blood work done in November 2019 that showed I have low iron, b12, and d. I am constantly tired in a way that makes my bones ache, and I get dizzy and have to sit down a lot just from walking or leaning over a little bit. I feel sick, physically, and on bad days even my teeth ache. I’m always insatiably hungry but I can’t stomach much food and only certain textures are okay for me now. Thankfully I never started calorie counting, but portioning was an issue for me and I’m trying to use that to my advantage. It’s hard. I always feel like I can’t sleep enough, I get sick quickly if I do too much physical activity for too long, if I eat too much, if I think about food too much.....etc.

I started doing aerial silks in July 2019 thanks to a video Markiplier had posted a while prior. At first it went great - my first few lessons made me so sore I couldn’t notice what else was going on. It was doing these once weekly, one-hour lessons where I was spending at most 20 minutes on the apparatus that was making me faint and dizzy and sick and horribly tired in a way that felt wrong. I also developed lactose intolerance during this time, something that showed up completely randomly, but for all I know it could be because of how I was restricting myself. But that’s why I went and got the blood work, and a few months later in March 2020, I started really trying to gain weight again.

Let me tell you - I am miserable. I have been working since March to correct my eating habits and to gain weight and the last time I checked, I had gotten up to 107.5. I can, in a good mood, eat a plate of certain foods. Sometimes I’ll even manage three meals a day, an on really good days I can do a little extra. None of this feels like enough and I feel worthless because of it. In my class I am the tallest and the thinnest, and because of my awkwardly bony joints and thin upper body, I lack grace and beauty and look like a Halloween skeleton on a pole. I feel miserable, and cramps, and tired, and I often make myself sick pushing myself to try and be just a little prettier on the silks or to just try that drop one more time. Three days ago, I puked after a rough session at Open Aerial. I’ve spent the days since sleeping and can remember eating two meals max. Writing this down, my head hurts and I’ve forced down some food, but I’m tired of seeing posts in fucking 2020 glorifying eating disorders in any way - even seeing jokes, or comments made about not eating dinner, make my stomach clench and it reminds me of the four years I’ve wasted because of this shit. I can’t do what I love like this - aerial is too physically demanding for what I’m capable of, and what about long term? What about my girlfriend, my aspirations? They’re all incredibly out of reach because of this. Because I can’t stomach a full meal and if someone’s mean to me I won’t eat for three days.

My eating disorder has not been diagnosed professionally. I have considered seeking hospitalization but mine has never been life threatening. I have gone days without food, I’ve watched my portions and I’m miserable now. I feel disgusting and my body can’t hold its own heat. But there’s a million people who are worse than I am, and there’s a few that have lost their lives because of it. And for all all of us - recovering or not - seeing this shit glorified on social media is a slap to the face. It’s a disappointment to see the community even still exists, and a failure on the part of whoever owns Tumblr to not outright fucking ban it ( like it should’ve been in the beginning, before a whole generation of small teens found it.) and I hope that by explaining that I feel like my body is failing, my mental health has never been worse, and even my fucking teeth are suffering, I can get through to at least one idiot on this website and get it through their head that you will not be beautiful if you stop eating or even restrict yourself in a significant manner. You aren’t guaranteed to drop any fat, fat that you need on your body - it’ll stay. Your teeth will fall out, you’ll be fainting daily, but all that weight you’re trying to drop? It’ll stay. Depriving yourself and ruining yourself is not going to make you pretty.

I can continue on, I think. I’m really upset and I don’t think any of this stupidly long ramble makes sense, but here’s my last words for anyone considering doing this shit. Imagine the ugliest, worst version of yourself. Now amplify it - that’s how you’ll feel. You’ll feel nothing short of worthless.

And for anyone reading this in recovery, or having made it past that, I’m proud of you. It’s so hard to force myself to eat even one plate a day, much less trying to keep up with the exercise I force myself through, and the mental hoops you have to jump through to get past this mentality. It takes a lot of strength and resolve that I’m just now realizing is a learned skill. I hope you continue down the path of recovery and health and happiness.

[benbantz]

Week 17 with long term Covid

Hello to anyone reading this, those I know and those I don’t.

Had Covid 19 now for 17 weeks (or suffering after effects of covid, how ever you want to word it.) Point is had/have Corona and it’s still kicking my arse.

So since my recent facebook update (after being pretty quiet on social media for a while) a couple of peeps have messaged me asking about my symptoms and stuff as (apart from the first 2-3 weeks) I haven't really gone into any detail I just sort of say 'having rough week' or 'things flared up again' etc etc. Without going into too much detail about anything specific. So for anyone interested, and because people have been curious and asking - and as you’ll see is far to detailed to explain person to person (and want to spread the word about long haulers as a lot of people struggling) So it’s just easier for me to have it in one place. For myself more then anything. And if you get anything out of it then that’s great.

Things are just starting to come out about long haulers in the media and on the news and I know people are interested to learn a bit more about it all. So while I’m having a not too bad a time last couple of days I’d thought it’s a good a time as any to go thru all my symptoms. Get them typed out for first time.

And maybe it will be helpful to someone who randomly comes across this post - (thou please don’t use as a guide), every case is different, a lot of similarities   and cross overs , but ultimately different  Just because someone you know might be having a rough couple of days or experiencing a couple of these symptoms it could be something completely unrelated to covid. (Make sure you check with your GP or call 111 if you think you have covid symptoms long term or otherwise.) I am not a Dr.

Here's a list of everything been going on with me over last 17 weeks.           Some experiences have been completely new to me so very hard to explain , some descriptions may sound a little odd , but hopefully you get idea of what I mean! (Also sorry for any grammar mistakes....I dropped out of English A level)

Those who come across this and don’t know me personally know that while this is a (mostly) serious (but hopefully uplifting) post I’m very sarcastic and use dumb humour to deflect from how shit life is at the moment! :-) 

So first thing of the bat I'll explain is I've realised in recent weeks it's been easier to think of it as good and bad days/weeks rather then getting better/worse (as in first 10 or so weeks when I thought of it as 'it's getting better' and got in that positive mindset, the kickbacks have obviously beaten the piss out of me mentally as well as physically, as I've had about four big relapses now where I thought I'm on the right track, having a good couple of weeks then bam, I seem to go back to square one for no real apparent reason. So when I say bad day I'm describing when everything amps/flares up again, A few more symptoms go up and the volumes up on high,and likewise a good day is when things seem to be moving in right direction again and I get a bit of a break.(So now I just appreciate them when they come and try make most out of them.) A good day isn’t a symptom free day by any means, it’s just better then the bad ones.

OK so on to my symptoms.

Specific Areas

Chest - Since the first evening it kicked of early March my chest has felt like a giant has had his hand around it - that’s non stop, constant (told you my explanations were weird.)

On the better days it's a very light grip I can get on and do things to a point, but I am always aware it's there. On a bad day it's grip tightens and he squeezes (or  his fingers press into a couple of key areas - been pressing on my back a lot last few weeks.) - That’s been non stop and has not gone away since beginning. Thou I do believe its starting to ease a little. 

- Chest pain - A shooting pain in my chest (slightly different from description above, feels more like its needles on inside of body. Thankfully these are uncommon, they pop up if I push myself a bit too far one day or if I’m having rougher week.(And it’s not heart related)

Lungs/Breathing - Haven't felt like I've taken in a full lungful of air since beginning, I take a deep breath but only feels like I'm taking in 80- 85% ish (on a good day) 65- 75% ish (on a bad day) - This is week 17 numbers btw,  take maybe 10-15% off when it was at worst. I think the best way I can describe it is it feels like there’s a filter or a sieve/strainer at top of lungs, on a good day there’s more spaces available to breathe thru (but still there’s a filter) and on a bad day more spaces close and I'm breathing thru less.

 *Thankfully bar the first week where I had to get paramedic out, I haven't been gasping for air, I've certainly had to just lay and just concentrate on only breathing a few times because the filters have closed up a lot more (in the night mostly) especially where my bodies relaxed and I've woken and panicked short of air. Yes that’s as terrifying as it sounds.

- The air I do take in doesn't feel clean or fresh (best way I can describe it is when you go to a zoo and they have a indoor Rain Forrest/safari area .... very that lol) That was constant the first 12 or so weeks (even when getting fresh air outside) thankfully that’s eased a little and not so prominent, still doesn't feel like I’m breathing in fresh air but its not so hot and stuffy and noticing the difference when I go outside now.

Throat/Mouth - Burning/inflamed mouth - This is by far been the most uncomfortable/hardest for me to ignore and just get on with day to day stuff, from maybe week 6 to week 14 it was pretty much non stop burning mouth and throat (Call my mum Khaleesi because I was spitting fire.)

 Whole inside of my mouth and down my throat was just inflamed/swollen (felt like I had a golf ball stuck down there) and burning hot. The last couple of weeks its eased I don’t wake up with it (unless i’m having a flare up/bad day) It's still very on/ off but thankfully not constant like it was. And have since learned that high histamine foods make it worse - same with my chest and few other things,  (so choc, dairy, alcohol, fizzy drinks ...my diet essentially ) So have cut most of them down/out. Ice lollies have been my savior on hot throat days. - Marble in throat - Another hard one to explain, it feels like there’s a marble sort of sized ball of phlegm that I constantly need to clear. (OK maybe not that hard to explain - also sorry for the gross imagery.) But not enough mucus coming up to warrant the feeling, it’s irritating more then anything - but a few weeks ago was probs golf ball sized, so again improvement! - This sort of ties in with with the inflamed mouth, but the first thing to flare up on bad day is my tongue, feels tingly most of the time anyway but more so on a flare up/bad day.  - Same with my teeth / gums and the tingly sensation, (my teeth constantly feel like that sensation when you have some orange juice after brushing your teeth.) Sensitive/fuzzy I guess. Not particularly bothersome or concerning...just weird.

Nose

- This is probably one of newest ones, nose has felt hot(on and off)/bunged up for last few weeks. (But I know its not if that makes sense)  I guess you could say same as lungs - not breathing in a full nose-full of air either.  - sorry again for gross TMI but any mucus or boogers are clear (like almost see thru clear/never been cleaner clear)  - Phantom smells - A really odd one, I smell smoke and gas a lot, not just smell it, it feels like its in my nose and my mouth - especially smoke, almost like I’ve eaten it sometimes (non smoker in smoke free flat btw). Was a lot more prominent in first few weeks ,so much so that before I realised it was a symptom I had my carbon monoxide alarms checked because it was making me paranoid I could smell smoke/gas. A bizarre one for sure. Pops up randomly now and again.

Eyes - Last couple of weeks have been getting bit of blurry vision and sore or dry eye , I'm already blind as shit so hard to tell in terms of blurriness how bad this one is, but def finding it harder to concentrate on one thing for too long (but that sort of ties in with brain fog - which i'll get to) but pretty sure once this is done with and I go to opticians will likely need a stronger prescription (some other long haulers who never had eye problems before are now having to wear glasses) No idea if that’s a permanent one but hopefully i’m at peak of it.

Ears - My left ear has felt blocked pretty much since start (or like it needs to pop some days) Most the time I can ignore it but can be quite distracting if it kicks up a couple of dials.Which is likely why I get ear ache in same ear often as well.

*Also for most the things listed above it has always been worse on my left side of body, lung, eyes, ear, headaches.

- Tinnitus (correct word for ringing in ears right?) Usually kicks in early afternoon or on bad day. Varies on strength depending on the day I’m having.

Head/Brain - Brain Fog - So the sort of very basic science behind this is because my lungs aren't producing enough oxygen my brain knows this, so is lending them some to help out...but because of this it means I’m experiencing what is known as brain fog (I don’t know what its actually called, likely has a better more official sounding name) - my concentration is very low, i’m finding it hard to retain things and concentrate more then usual. (not been up to reading or watching something new for month or so as I just cant focus on it) Also been getting odd words muddled or confused (but the bar wasn't the highest with me on that front ha ha)

 Been dropping things when I think I have them in my hand. I do however think this is improving (The fact that I have typed this out with just a couple short breaks so far is much better then two weeks ago when I couldn't even focus on a computer game for more then half a hour) so as my lungs improve so does this or vice versa on flare up. *Edit - This whole post has taken a couple of days to draft and type up, so not too bad in terms of needing breaks etc.

-I'm also constantly aware of my brain... like I can feel it all the time (I literally cant explain that any other way lol, I guess its just heavier at moment so I can feel it against my skull) best explanation I think you'll get from that one. - Have a headache most the time (so much so that I sort of forget it’s there.) Thankfully most the time there mild/low and I can forget or distract myself but like everything else if I'm having a bad few days it goes up a notch. Likely connected to the brain fog.

Stomach and Lower abdomen - Period pains - only way I can explain it, generally thought after nearly 10 years without them it was messing my body about so much I was getting  phantom periods. (I’m a transgender man, 4+ years on testosterone, for anyone I don’t know who comes across this) been there done that, brought the t-shirt.. then sent it back because it wasn’t for me!  Very strong and painful on and off for first eight weeks, get the odd twinge now and again but think that ones done with, thank the gods. - Stomach Pains - Few aches and pains on /off, and recently experienced what felt like needle/stabbing pain for short while in short bursts - and I only really mention stomach because I haven't had the widely publicised  'covid shits' (yet, touch wood... or cloth) So yay!

Heart - Palpitations - First 8 weeks was on and off most days to the point if I was sat still my heart would be palpitating. (I couldn't even sit and listen to music I enjoyed as it would make my heart go mad.) - When I do get the palpitations it sets most things off, so if palpitations do start I generally know I'm about to have rough couple of hours or days and can’t do much, for obvious safety reasons. Thankfully these have subsided a lot last 6 or so weeks. Still get them every few days but generally know whats setting me off and how to lower them down and they don’t last as long.

Hands and Feet - Skin been very dry last couple of months, cracking and peeling on hands and feet (ew)  - Pins and needles/ numb fingers and toes - Get this a lot, obviously very normal stuff but just find them coming on a lot more (especially if i’m holding something like my ipad, phone or xbox controller for a while) Fingers feel numb/puffy a lot too. (Likely also why I keep dropping things) - Also to tie in with skin, have had a on /off spots on chest, face and shoulders for few weeks, they all came up at same time, not irritant or itchy or anything, just there.

General/Other weird things - Voice - So this is one that frustrates me the most, I have had next to no voice for last maybe 10 weeks.  I just cant chat to people at moment. For first 4 weeks wasn't to bad (I even started a youtube channel to keep me occupied and distracted) but slowly week by week it went a little bit more each time. I can talk for short periods of time if I have to/choose to ,like its not gone completely, but it kicks up all the things I mentioned in my throat and mouth directly after. If the phone rings I have to decide if it’s worth answering, in doing so knowing i’m going to have a rough day or so after. Someday’s I feel it's better then others like couple of weeks ago, chatted to my brothers online on xbox for half an hour or so for the first time in weeks, and caught up with a friend on phone for 10 minutes...but a couple of days later everything flared up again. So it's still trial and error and just being patient with my voice. (I'm quite confident no long term damage is being done now as few people in group i’m in reported there voice just eventually got better over time.) Definitely the symptom I’m having to be most patient with. - Fatigue and tiredness - My days now are normally diddily done by 4-5, (except if its a bad day then most of the day is a write off) No matter how little or much I've done, by 5-6 my body and mind are exhausted. As someone who has insomnia, pre covid I would maybe have 1-2 all nighters every ten or so days sprinkled in with 5-6 days of at most 3-4 hours sleep. In the last 17 weeks I have had just 3 all nighters, and maybe just under ten 3-4 hour sleeps. Otherwise i’m getting at least 5+ hours a night. This is the one covid thing I'd like to keep please lol.  I think it's easing a little (most the bad night sleeps have been in last month) and on good days tiredness is kicking in a little later, or it's taking me a little longer to drift off. But generally am cream crackerd a lot of time, especially if I push myself too far on a bad day. - Loss/Increased appetite - This sort of ties in with what I mentioned earlier about different foods causing set backs, the first 6 weeks I had no appetite and lost a bit of weight (I do put a lot of this down to extreme worry and stress thou)  Then I went thru a phase of being very hungry for a few weeks and put most of the weight I had lost back on. I'm somewhere in the middle now, probably because I know most of anything I eat will set me back a little (because as mentioned fussy git = high histamine diet) so i’m cutting portions (otherwise known as the amount of cheese I add to everything!) and cutting out all most junk food (you’ll never part me from my crisps!) and non healthy drinks.  

- Bloated and dehydration - This one I sort of put in pencil because it could be covid related but I also think it could be side effects  from the brown asthma inhaler I was prescribed to help with breathing. I’m still undecided as it pops up especially when I was using inhaler more but it does happen days after I’ve last used it. At it’s worse I was getting up to pee a lot! because I was thirsty all the time. So of course was just very bloated around the belly. 

*Also talking of peeing, (Great segway Ben) number 1′s and 2′s have been very different then normal, urine thicker and bubbly,and smells/is coloured different,   (same with 2′s) Also have a completely different body odour at the moment,(pungent) having to use deodorant twice as much as normal. - Admit it your life’s a little bit better now you know that information.

- THE HEAT! - I touched on this with my mouth and nose being on fire, but for the first 10-12 weeks I did not go a day where at least a couple of things were not burning hot ,like hot to the touch as well, not just inside...(very different experience then having a temperature). Extreme heat in one very specific part of body. Ears, forehead, cheeks, chest, back, nose, mouth,throat to name a few of prominent ones. Over time they have faded (if something does feel hot now its generally not hot to the touch anymore.) Maybe on a bad day a couple of things will burn up. (But in saying that, been calling today a good day but nose is quite hot) but point is its better. - Mood swings/Anxiety - While i’m fairly confident anything emotional has stemmed from experiencing...well everything you've just read. Rather then it being its own symptom (thou I have had days of uncontrollable crying, days of anger..that perhaps outside of covid I would still of had one of those days but just not to such a extreme, I think with everything going on its just amped that emotion and anxiety up.)  it's obviously been very stressful and anxiety inducing. That’s only calmed down in last week since finding the facebook group of other people going thru the same thing. I'm now seeing that people are slowly improving, i'm seeing I've not been going mad and it's all very real and not just happening to me. So the bad days are easier to deal with now and not hitting me emotionally like a ton of bricks anymore. I honestly couldn't see the end of the tunnel two weeks ago but can see it now (even if I take a step forward one day but then 2-3 back another...I see it still.)

*Mushy moment Alert - A good a place as any to include while I'm talking about emotion  - Even thou she probs wont see this,but want to mention my mum. She’s been my rock thru all this, she messages me at least twice everyday without fail, since day 1. Even thou I know she's been worried sick about me herself, she's reassured and calmed me down on the harder more stressful days. I dread the mornings when things have gone downhill a bit and having to tell her ,because I know she'll worry, but after a few texts we both end up sort of reassuring and calming the other down. (especially in the earlier days when it was really bad, scary, new and unknown.) When it was really getting me down for a while and I wanted nothing to do with anything covid related and just stay in bed and pretend this wasn't happening to me, she dug out the articles and tips and things to help or give me a boost. (Not to mention all the coming and going she and my step dad have done for me last 4 months and taking care of my shopping for first 9 or so weeks...because I was a useless mess of a human)       I know it’s basic mum stuff but this would be 10x harder and lonelier without her. Random detour I know but can’t talk about my covid experience and recovery without mentioning her.

Almost looking forward to sending her the first  'Everything normal today' text as much as I look forward to experiencing it....almost. ;-)  

Amount of Symptoms On A Typical Day

On a good day - (when I think virus was at it's worse in the first 10-14 weeks) - 4-6 symptoms ( 2 or 3 cranked up to a medium or high otherwise on mild)

On a bad day - At peak/worse - 6-10 symptoms (throat, chest and no voice on high volume, maybe a couple of things like palpitations and brain fog, heat on medium/high, other weird stuff on mild/low)

Good day  - Now 17 weeks in (excluding my voice which is still a medium to high issue most days) - 3-4 Symptoms on low to mild - usually there’s something still simmering on a medium always ready to turn up to a high if I push it too much in terms of walking or talking. (often my chest) Bad Day (Now) - 4-7 Symptoms - 1 to 3 on medium (maybe a couple will kick up to high on first day of a flare up, but generally now for shorter periods of time.)Everything else on mild or low.

So there has def been improvement in last 6 weeks, i’m sure it wont all be plain sailing and I know/prepare to expect another 'flare up' and then a bad few days. But recently instead of the bad days being 2-3 weeks of it constantly, the duration is getting shorter each time (last bad few days was just under a week)  So things are slowly improving, and i’m sure in time so will the amount of symptoms and the strength of each symptom.

I've probably missed a couple of silly/odd little things that have gone on (likely because they were so early on or very brief (or I’ve forgotten) -  fever and nausea to name a couple. When I got my notes together these were the main ones that came to mind. Quite a lot actually sitting back reading them, and I think the scary (but good) thing is, x-ray came back fine, bloods came back fine.  People have had MRI's, camera’s down there throat, most coming back fine. Covid just not showing up on any tests(unless someones suffered further complications with something) - hence why a lot of people struggling to be taken seriously by there GP's or even loved ones who think there just 'exaggerating’ or its just ‘anxiety and stress'...no living with all what you just read causes anxiety and stress Mary! 

But yeah could waffle on, once its definitely gone and I breathe and look back I can perhaps get a better overview of everything and give you better analysis of all that’s gone on. I get asked 'so when do you think it will be gone?' almost as much as 'are you better now?' To the first question, meh I don't know, I'm now into month 4/week 17 (well month 5 if I include last couple of days of Feb when I believe I caught it and had the very mild cold early March) still a lot of things going on with my body, some new things could still pop up, so instead of saying 'I think it will be gone by..'  ,like I did in the first weeks. I'm just taking it week by week (or day by day if it kicks up a notch) not making any big demands of myself or my body, doing what I can each day....but not pushing it. Instead of the sad, anxiety inducing thought 'when will it go' or the one all us long haulers worry about a lot ‘Will it ever go?’ I now try to think instead  'it will go!.'

To any fellow long haulers I say hang in there, keep fighting, trust your body and that it will get better. Take it day by day. Stay as positive as you can when everything 'flares up again' after a couple of weeks of good progress (easier said then done I know) but know it wont be forever as much as it feels like it is. Don’t be afraid to ask for help (I hate going to Drs would much rather just 'get on with it' , but from pestering a little I got a blue inhaler which has helped me a lot day to day,and had x-ray and blood tests which also put my mind at ease when they came back clear. So don’t be afraid to ask to get these things checked if you’re worried. I've been lucky with my GP's thou who I think have generally believed me and taken me seriously and I know not everyone is getting that help or respect. I think it’s really not helped us that in the early days people were stubbing their toes and thinking they had caught covid and calling their Dr’s (I’m exaggerating but hopefully you get my point lol), so if you do get a not so helpful interaction, be patient,explain yourself or try again with another Dr, remember a GP will only advise you symptom by symptom and not as a whole.   Anyway I’m repeating stuff you already know by now lol.   

Stay positive. Stay hopeful and stay safe.

To anyone else, believe us, know this is very real, and that it absolutely sucks. Its not just anxiety or in our head. We're not exaggerating - in fact most of us are probably playing it down or just not elaborating on things for an easy life and because when someone asks 'are you better now?'  it's easier to just smile and nod and answer 'getting there slowly' because the truth is...well what you just read lol. (And I'm a particularly mild case...next to no coughing, no spells in A and E, a breeze for a lot of other people with long term) Keep yourselves safe (most long haulers have no previous medical /problems/conditions. Some ,myself included, have weakened immune systems due to a long term health condition. A unlucky few are fighting another long term medical illness as well as covid. I'm lucky in that I have no dependants (except 4 easy to please gecko's) and was not working prior to catching it - some are having to deal with all this and be full time parents, or have been to and fro with their jobs (thinking there better then relapsing after going back). There’s mums messaging on behalf of there young kids who have it, lots of young people (one of the lads that co runs the group is 22 I believe), there's athletes/health fanatics used to running miles every day been completely knocked of there game unable to even walk to end of road some days. People of all age ranges. Point is anyone can catch it, it might not just be 'a couple of rough weeks' It might take over half a year for you to recover from.  This myth that it's short and sweet, or a walk in the park if your young and healthy needs to be squashed because its just not accurate. 

If not for my mum and our family and the facebook group I found, (Positive path of wellness - Covid UK Long Haulers) I'd be struggling, really struggling. It's scary, brutal and lonely. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. The virus is still out there it has not gone. Keep sanitising hands and wear a mask in busy places!. - Tell the guy who's life this has been for 17 weeks, why wearing a mask in public places, to keep yourself and others safe from catching this nightmare, is a inconvenience for you Karen...go on, I'll wait...

Maybe you can help prevent yours or someone else's next few months from being even worse. x

Was going to just make this a one time post on tumblr account but if it’s a help to anyone (especially fellow long haulers) I’ll post some other bits and bobs when i’m up to it. (thinking of doing a post about things/products etc that I think have been helping me. If that’s useful to anyone) Or just some positive/ funny things to keep spirits up. Keeping it all positive and upbeat as possible.

So I’ll see if anyone reads this first and go from there

So I guess in conclusion ...lol I’m just joking, this post is really done now, go back to your lives, this garbled mess of self woe (worlds smallest violin is back in its case now), sarcasm and naff humour has taken up far too much of all of our days already. Go peacefully amongst the things. :-) 

Stay safe everyone x

[writerpyre]

Addendum: Skyhook

So. I’ve been writing this tiny thing on and off since Skyhook came out oh four-and-a-half-years-ago where’s the damn time gone!?, and I finally managed to get it finished tonight. Amazing what an age without looking at this thing -- and randomly getting vibes while trawling through @lenle-g’s old fanart -- can do, but here; have a oneshot everybody.

 *An addendum to the end of Skyhook, because no bloody way did he not get saddled with anything remotely health-endangering. It made me quite indignant, but what can we do about animation budgets and not scaring small children?, but anyway. :) As usual, I only do this for the joy, not money. Many thanks as always to my beautiful beta (co-writer), LexietFive; who, without her encouragement and love, I wouldn’t still be doing this stuff. Love you L. xx

Enjoy. xx

~

John is starting to feel rather unwell by the time he ushers Fischler and his recently-fired associates through the final airlock between Thunderbirds Three and Five, an hour after he'd locked the nosy creatures in the galley to stop them from ferreting out the secrets of International Rescue. His head is pounding, his skin aching, and his scalp to his toes and everything in between feel hot and heavy and painful. His limbs feel like they weigh several tons, even despite the lack of gravity, and his throat feels thick and tight; every inhalation feeling like a wholly unnecessary effort. His heartbeat slowing as the still-lingering adrenaline from the rather unorthodox rescue finally burns out, John lets out a weak sigh of relief as the airlock between finally seals shut behind his three unwelcome guests.

He loves 'Five, but he is heartily sick and tired of spinning around in that damned gravity ring. The ache is intensifying swiftly now the excitement is over. His brain feels like it has been scrambled from the pressure of being flattened against the panels, and has been since he managed to pick himself off the ground, and his right arm and shoulder are pure bruise from where he'd been slammed down in the process of reaching the cut-off switch. Seems to be a rather recurrent event as of late, he muses wearily. At least last time it was only 3Gs, Alan having managed to slow down the spin with Thunderbird Three before the still-malignant EOS turned him into a John Tracy pancake, but still, after that one he'd had a pressure headache and vision problems for three days. He wasn't pleased to be repeating the experience so soon.

Sucking in a painful, stuttered breath against his battered, bruised ribs, John gives himself a moment to regroup, promising himself that he'll do a systems' check shortly, just as soon as the station stops whirling around him. When that started exactly, he's not sure, but he thinks it must've had to do with the black-out he had in those moments before he forced himself upright to deal with the reverse thrusters. This is why he doesn't do gravity all that often, it always screws him up for the rest of the damn day!

"Thunderbird Three to Thunderbird Five, are you there, John?" And there goes that plan. His eyes flicker open and John grimaces as he forces his arm up to bring his comm. level with his face, wincing as his head and neck throb with the motion. That's gonna get irritating real fast...

"Thunderbird Five, reading you strength five, 'Three," He contemplates sitting up and addressing his siblings and their holograms properly, but his eyes and his entire body are turning swiftly into agony right now, so nope, stuff it. It's only Scott and Alan, having come up to fetch the high-ballooning mis-adventurers - crapped-up second engine and all. They won't care.

"Planning on turning us and the Space Invaders loose anytime in the future, Johnny? We're kinda stuck til you release your grip..." John blearily watches Scott's eyebrows rise up his forehead as his sibling takes him in, lolling on his back in midair, and he blinks painfully as a wave of nausea-induced dizziness rolls over him, his eyes shuttering to half-closed with no warning. Yup, definitely time for a nap before those checks...

"Make EOS do it..." John mumbles chokedly, forcing them back open, and his older brother just looks at him, with that ridiculous expression he gets when the Terrible Two are being morons and he can't believe they can be so childish. "I'm tired..." He isn't whining, he isn't, but some part of him says that he should probably be alarmed, especially when his head is aching so, but right now, John just doesn't have the energy to devote to it. He feels all sick and wobbly and... eurgh.

Something's wrong, he thinks as the pain suddenly spikes enormously, forcing him in on himself with a cry of pain, and Scott seems to have had the same lightbulb moment as John, because his brother is suddenly hollering rather inadequately for Alan, and it's all John can do to roll himself over in the air before he's throwing up the gorgeous, floating chunks of what only a few hours ago, there were two rather delicious breakfast bagels and his morning vacuum flask of coffee. John groans and clutches his stomach, his ears ringing as his body convulses, the undersides of his eyelids tinged red by pain.

Wonderful, motion sickness at the very least; bloody centrifugal and gravitational forces have gotten him, goddamnit, and so suddenly too, which means it's a bad bout, because he's not experienced that since he went through astronaut training, years ago. Apparently twenty-five Gs and more can do that to a guy. Yup, his rather muddled, normally-intelligent brain remembers that right now, at least. Yummy.

John retches again - because that thought is definitely not appropriate right now, when he's dirtying up the pristine, sanitised atmosphere of his beloved 'Bird - and he wonders absently where the hell EOS is, as, quite abruptly, the chilled hands of John's older brother are on his arms, pulling him into an upright position and away from the contents of his stomach. He flails blindly, because dear God, his head is killing him, but John tries to wriggle away regardless, because those damned idiots in Three's passenger bay are far more important than him dealing with a bit of nausea... Or not, as the case may be...

Deny it, and it’ll be all okay… Yep, sound advice, Tracy.

It doesn't seem like Scott has gotten that memo though, because he only grips John tighter and pulls his head back firmly but carefully, straightening the slighter man out, literally forcing him to gasp for air to regulate his breathing. That only makes it harder to bear the pain, rapidly growing stronger now, like the veil on the shock of what happened barely half an hour ago and the damage he has apparently inflicted upon himself has fallen away, leaving raw, naked agony in its wake.

"Easy, John, easy..." Scott mutters in his ear. "I know what you're thinking,  but none of them are hurt but for a bit of altitude-headache, and right now, you're coming down with us whether you like it or not. They can wait til we've got you settled in 'Three, and then you can come home and Brains can check you out; you're shaking like a maraca."

Coughing, his eyes streaming even as he grips his brother's arms blindly in dizziness, John glares up weakly at the fuzzy form of his eldest sibling. Scott knows his thoughts on that matter - he knows that John much prefers to spend his time up here unless he has to be elsewhere, and right now, John doesn't want to. He'll be fine once he gets an hour or so's nap, EOS - whenever the apparently-absent AI deigns to reappear - can mind the shop for anything desperate, but so help him, he isn't going to move from his 'Bird, thank you very much, Scott Tracy!

"There will be no arguments, John." Said AI, almost as if she's read Scott's mind, is suddenly right in John's burning face with her green-blinking camera lens, making him squint painfully at the light. "Your body temperature has risen and seems inclined to do so further, your pupils are dilated and unwavering at this time, and if my data on this subject is indeed correct, you are suffering from the condition called Non-Impact Concussion. There are indications of the presence of stress fractures in your subclavian, thoracic, pelvic and cervical regions, and thermal heat readings signify that there is an abnormal level of swelling radiating from the area surrounding the axillary nerves in your right shoulder. Medical treatment on this is strongly advised. Sensors compute that you also may have microscopic muscular, bone and tissue damage, particularly in your internal organs and within your skeletal system... This must be assessed. Scott Tracy,"

The AI that John shares 'Five with suddenly turns her 'face' to his brother, who seems to be containing John and his wobbly limbs now, rather than restraining, much to his puzzlement. John is stuck by an absurd flash of irritation that not only has his body and 'Bird turned against him today, but so has his supposed companion... Brilliant.

"... From what I can determine," The AI continues doggedly, the high whine in John's ears making him cringe, "This situation is not life-threatening to John currently, but according to my calculations of duration and pressure in relation to the fragility and subsequent mortality of the human form, it is suggested that he does not return to work until he is satisfactorily sound. This coming period will be very... What is the term? Unpleasant. It is recommended that he be closely supervised and examined to ensure that there will be no complications. For this, John needs to leave this station and seek appropriate treatment."

"You need some time to rest at the very least, so no arguing." Scott murmurs, his voice raspy and thick in John's left ear. "There are no ifs, buts or maybes about it. You've endured freaking twenty-five Gs of gravity in one hit, and I can tell you right now, you're not in good shape, Little Brother, even if your brain is too scrambled for you to realise that yourself."

And oh shit, Scott actually sounds concerned, God help him, John realises, closing his eyes painfully. That certainly means that something isn't connecting right for him right now, because though they might tease and mock Scott and call him 'Smother Hen' and all other assorted samples of you're-too-overbearing-for-your-own-good teasing, John and the others know that Scott doesn't outright order them around outside of a rescue unless something is actually very wrong.

And yes, somewhere in his shit-that-freaking-hurts brain, John knows the reality of all those things that EOS listed off. He learned the ramifications of that amount of gravity on the human body years ago - twenty-five Gs is nothing to sneeze at - but quite honestly, right now he's in so much pain that it's starting to engulf his rational, sensible mind, and he doesn't really want to uncurl himself from where he's hunched over his screaming ribs and cramping stomach. Lost in the burning waves of pain shooting through him now his body has stopped spinning, it's suddenly all he can do to not pass out properly. This is going to be interesting...

##

Without being aware of it, John realises that he has indeed blacked out, because when he's opened his eyes again, it's to find he's strapped firmly into one of 'Three's jump seats, with the hard ridge of a cervical brace digging into his chin, and the firm, almost painful pressure of the restraints holding him securely in it. Struggling to force his fluttering eyelids open properly - yeah, that should not be as hard as it is right now - John can feel the shuddering of the ship underneath him, and he can barely restrain himself from moaning as his entire body protests the whirligig sensation. Strangely enough, his head, while still feeling like it has the Mole digging through it, feels a little less raw and abused, but the rest of him still feels like an elephant sat on him. And his stomach is still rolling. Fantastic.

Somewhat winning the battle to focus his vision, John is aware that there is sound around him, the voices of what he assumes are his brothers as well as the life-support machinery and the piloting systems, but it's not until he lets out a sharp cough and a subsequent, burning gasp of oxygen, that he realises that Scott is almost right above him.

"Hey Starman," Scott's accompanying smile is strained and relieved at the same time, and John wants to wipe it all away - because his brother being relieved means that John has scared the pilot, and John doesn't like frightening his brothers, any of them... "Nice to have you back." Scott's hand comes up out of nowhere to press into John's dishevelled, sweaty hair, gently carding through it, and John feels more than a little confused and disconnected, because, he should be able to pinpoint what his limbs are doing, and holy effing crap does it actually hurt to breathe right now...

Oh, yeah right; no more microgravity... Blurry eyes, nausea and freaking, disorienting weight on top of him again... Cos returning to earth and all sucks even when he's healthy and hasn't been crushed by his own gravity ring... Why'd he do that again? What a stupid idea.

"Mmmm." John agrees with his brother belatedly, because again, the breathing thing, and good, sorta-numbing drugs apparently affect his ability to make coherent sounds. Not to mention the solid, thumping agony of his head, even despite the clear attempt at pain relief... "Di'nt, w'nna lea'e, Sco'..." He tries to frown - because why did they move him? - but his face scrunches in pain as the hot jagged edges of his shoulder and ribs decide to arc up, and his attempt at displeasure rapidly turns into a fiery ball of ouch.

Well, it was worth a try... He thinks miserably, trying not to let his stomach rebel again - a bad idea in hypergravity...

"Yeah, I thought so," Scott seems to commiserate with him, even if he can't understand him - jee, thanks Scoot, John loves being humoured when he knows he's incoherent - but then his brother brings up a bottle of water into his rather patchy line of sight, and John suddenly is so thirsty that all thoughts of annoyance are crowded out of him by the sheer, one-track gratitude he feels at that fuzzy realisation.

Reaching out clumsily for the receptacle, John can't help but feel irritated as Scott gently but firmly pushes his aching, painful arm back down and holds the bottle to his lips. Not a baby, Scott, he finds himself thinking somewhat irrationally, even as his mouth clamps to the bottle, his tired, burning, painful body mass literally demanding he drain it dry; he feels so dehydrated and parched.

John grimaces slightly as he forces himself not to gulp at the water, summoning the last bit of strength as he sips. By the stars, the water feels so good, he can almost swear he feels it soaking into his tissue. Feeling greedy, he forgets himself and tries to take an extra big swallow of the liquid, before grunting angrily as Scott suddenly pulls the bottle away.

"Nuh-uh, Johnny, no more yet, unless you want to be sick again?" His big brother's voice is low and full of compassion as John feels him sweep a hand over his forehead on the pretence of smoothing away that cowlick curl of red-gold hair that never stays gelled back for long, but exhausted and ill as he is, John isn't fooled, Scott is fever-checking. All four of his younger brothers know the signs, though it's been a very long time since he himself has been on the receiving end of Scott's worry.

Weakly, John attempts to pull away and wreaks his own undoing as the quick movement forces the mother of all headaches to rip through his skull. The pounding ringing, burning pain resonates behind his eyes, through his very brain it feels like, pushing down his nose and through his ears  with such intensity that he can't help but let out a strangled squawk as he forces his hands up in the air. He needs to know what seems to be sluggishly flowing on his face, surely he didn't drop water on himself?

"Oh, shit!"  Scott's voice sounds strangely far away and thickly muffled as John squints painfully through narrowed eyelids, trying so hard to bring the rocket's lounge into focus. He feels something soft and thick mopping at his tingling, sore eyes and covering his nose as his body convulses with the agony he's being forced to adapt to. "Close your eyes, John,"  Scott orders, a note of fear penetrating John's thoughts despite the fuzzy thickness of his ears.

John obeys, he's not stupid, he knows what's happened, that the sharp movement has caused the built up pressure in his head to vent outward, that he's probably perforated his eardrums, that the thin straw like liquid mixed with earwax is running from his ears, and that his nose is definitely gushing with blood, hence Scott's concern. In fact he'd hazard a guess that the sclera of his eyes are now pink and watery, possibly even bleeding out slightly from his ever-increasing blood pressure. As an astronaut, he is well-versed on the dangers and what to expect. So is Scott.

He gropes out suddenly, clasping Scott by the forearm. "H'w b'd is it?” He grunts.

“Blood pressure has skyrocketed dude,” Scott’s voice is tight with worry. “Your heart rate is way up and your respirations are shit. Deep breathing exercises now, you're not having an aneurysm just because you wanted to see what it felt like to try and separate your elements John, do it.”

“Was that a science joke, Scott?” John wheezes incredulously, because that wasn't bad at all. Not like usual. Huh. What's the world coming to?

John feels himself choke painfully with amusement, and immediately regrets it. Laughter is a spectacularly bad idea. He sucks in a breath, and well crap; that’s the end of him isn’t it?

Dizzy is an understatement, John thinks fuzzily.

Hello, darkness.

“Hey, hey! No you don’t,” What must be his brother’s hand snaps sharply at his cheek, and John startles; torn between anger and confusion as his eyes snap open to meet his older brother’s determined stare. “You are not passing out.” Scott orders, voice fully infused with Field Commander deliberation. “You can take an order; your WSA training says so, Starman.” His brother tells him, with a sudden, sly smirk. “Don’t blink out on me now; not after we’ve nearly got the blood stopped and all.”

John is still confused and dizzy, but his amusement returns at his brother’s quip, which gives him some optimism that this nasty little episode might stop soon. Once his body stops throwing a temper tantrum, at any rate. Urgh.

Scott’s brusque love tap seems to have cleared his head a little, however, and blinking a little, even as his brain seems determined to keep bashing itself against the inside of his skull, John’s attempts at deep breaths seem to be at least reassuring Scott. The fear in his face has disappeared, in any case. Phew.

John realises that the older man is still clamping a cloth from the medkit over his nose, careful to not obstruct his mouth, and he can still feel the unpleasant, gritty wetness of his ears leaking awfully down the sides of his neck and into his suit, but at least the nausea has lessened a little. Awareness of his own body comes flooding back with the return of cognizance, and John frowns as he realises both his hands are held in a one-hand vice grip in Scott’s left, and that there’s that hard ridge of the neck brace cutting into his chin again. Ew. The awful feelings retreat a little, to be replaced with an awful lot of oh-hell-no, when he realises exactly what the plan is next for him when they finally get back to Earth.

Honestly, he should’ve seen it coming, and it’s inevitable and needed, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it! He hates being carried out on stretchers. No-no-no no-no-no-no! Shit.

Scott seems to have read his mind, and has a sly, half-amused expression on his face, just barely concealing the undeniable look of sheer relief still lingering there. John knows that it’s because once again, he seems to have scraped himself out of yet another life-threatening situation by the mere skin of his teeth. Gordon has joked in the past that if John were an animal, he’d be a cat, by virtue of the fact that he seems to have an inordinate amount of lives to chew through, what with all his assorted mishaps. He has to get through the damn medical tests and examinations first though, and it isn’t fair, because it’s not like he does these things on purpose.  Not like the idiot younger three, and Scott, who didn’t get his nickname from Dad for no reason. The man fell out of a tree when he was a teenager; too busy trying to see the planes at the airfield, for crying out loud!

John’s eyes widen further as he realises that once they’re all reassured he really is actually okay after this jaunt (not that he feels that way right now, he’s going to be stuck in bed for at least a few days, especially with these ribs, he just knows it), his three younger brothers are never going to let him live the repeat of his out-of-control-hamster-wheel antics down. Not to mention his idiot of an older brother; don’t you dare to pretend otherwise, Scott Tracy!

Huffing out an indignant breath, as Scott suddenly breaks out into full-on-laughter at his epiphany -- still trapped in the dual vice-grip of his brother’s firm restraint and the pain of his battered body -- John can only make a face of resignation.

Jerks. He thinks. Jerks; the lot of them.

~

Fanfiction.net // Ao3

[aweirdkindofyellow]

Here I Am, There You Are Pt. 15

Jack Barakat x OC ‘Rachel has been best friends with Alex, Jack, Rian, and Zack since high school. What happens when one of them gets married?’

Part 15

Jack and I had Alex and Lisa over for a week. Since they didn’t have a house out in LA anymore, they always needed to find places to stay when they did need to be on the West Coast. Since Alex and Jack were working on some band stuff and Lisa was organising the last bits of a wedding at the same time, we had offered to help them out by giving them a place to stay. Afterall, after months of not seeing each other, it was nice to actually have friends around again.

While making dinner for everybody, the fact that I was 36 weeks pregnant hit me pretty hard. I was standing there on my painful feet, cutting up some vegetables when my body decided to warn me that I shouldn’t push myself and take enough time to rest. It was nearing the end of their trip, and I wanted to give them one last impressive meal, but my back said no. Luckily, Alex was more than happy to give me a hand. He let me direct him around, doing most of the work while Lisa and Jack were gulping down some rosé.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t really enjoy the food we had cooked together. My back was in pain and I was feeling quite nauseous. It wasn’t alarming, though. It happened more often; my lower back would decide it had been carrying around the extra weight for more than long enough, then everything would just feel very uncomfortable, and then I’d also start feeling a little sick. Usually, it didn’t end up in my throwing up, but it definitely wasn’t the most pleasant of feelings.

I got a few bites in, but in the end I was mainly just picking at my food. The baby usually loved a combination of vegetable and tomato sauce, but it wasn’t happening that day. Luckily, I wasn’t really hungry anyway. Lisa and I had gotten a pretty big lunch earlier, so I had had more than enough to eat already. Since everybody already knew I wasn’t feeling great, and because I had made the food myself, nobody was particularly worried. It happened, pregnancy wasn’t just happiness and people telling you you looked like you were glowing.

But my back really was hurting, and I could just feel myself going into an unsafe territory. The territory in which I’d no longer be fun to be around. Before I got too annoyed at jokes and laughter, and any other sound made, I knew I had to distance myself.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” I announced after putting my fork down. I knew it was early, it was only past dinner time. But it sounded like the only bearable thing right now.

“Everything alright?” Jack checked up on me, taking in just how uncomfortable I looked.

I nodded and pushed my chair back. “Yeah. I just need to lie down and I’m pretty tired. Why not combine both?”

“Call if you need anything, okay?”

I got up and pressed a kiss to the top of his head to show that I definitely wouldn’t think twice to call him if I needed him. He really was the best husband right now, he had been the entire time really. He’d help to tie my shoes when I was really struggling, he’d bring me snacks when I was hungry, and he’d help me get as comfortable as possible, even if that meant rubbing my back. Of course, we had our arguments, but he was the most supportive person, always there to help me out.

I said goodnight to everybody and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. Olive decided to join me, watching me as I got ready and climbing onto the bed when I got under the blankets. It was a bit strange since she’d usually stay down where the food was being shared, but she probably sensed that I wasn’t feeling great. She kept a watchful eye on me as she curled up right next to me.

The two of us just laid there together. Petting her long fur was quite comforting, but it wasn’t enough for my body to decide that it was time to relax and no longer be in pain. If anything, the queasy feeling in my stomach was getting worse. I just figured our cheese puff had shifted a little and was squishing all my insides since I had to get up to pee quite a few times as well.

When Jack finally joined me hours later, I was still awake, scrolling through my phone. The entire time I was switching between social media platforms and even tried watching some Netflix, although the shows didn’t exactly keep my attention.

“You’re still awake?” Jack seemed surprised as he closed our bedroom door and pulled off his shirt.

“No, I’m just sleepwalking,” I joked back and reached around to put my phone on my nightstand.

He kicked off his jeans as well and started towards the bathroom. “Are you feeling a bit better, though?”

I hummed back and shrugged.

“No?” He looked back as he turned on the bathroom light.

I pouted at him. “My tummy hurts.”

He gave me a worried look. “Is cheese puff okay?”

I nodded and scratched Olive’s head, snuggling further into my pillow. “He’s good, still kicking. I just feel like I might shit myself at any moment.”

He frowned and finally went to our sink. “Gross.”

I watched as he grabbed his toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it. “Well, I’m not going to. I would have done it long ago if that were the case.”

“If it happens, I’m not cleaning it up,” he mumbled through the foaming toothpaste in his mouth.

“You better get used to cleaning shit soon.”

He scrunched up his nose in disgust and faced the sink again. After scrubbing his teeth for a few more seconds, he turned on the tap, spit out the toothpaste and washed out his mouth. Once his toothbrush was back in its place, he turned off the bathroom light and made his way over to the bed in just his boxers.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, looking down at me as I cuddled underneath the blankets. My stomach was starting to hurt a little more. “You’re not in labour, are you?”

I gave him the look. The one you give when you can’t believe what the other person is saying; the one where what they’re saying sounds incredibly absurd. It required a slow blink and a hint of being fed up.

“Of course not,” I urged as he joined me in bed. “It’s way too early for that. I’m not due for another four weeks. It’s just some cramps, maybe he’s getting in position for later.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Are you sure? It might be premature labour.”

“Jack.”

“Okay, okay,” he dropped it and leaned in to give me a kiss to wish me goodnight.

However, before his lips could even touch mine, Olive started freaking out. At first, it was just a low growl, but as soon as Jack leaned over her to get closer to me, she started barking loudly. And it wasn’t a bark that asked for attention. It was a threatening protective bark, warning him to stay away from me.

“Excuse me!” Jack gasped loudly and directed his gaze down to Olive who was still tightly against my side.

“Olive!” I scolded and pointed at the end of our bed. “Down, now.”

She looked at me with guilt written all across her face, but moved down anyway. Her movements were slowly and sneaky, showing just how much she knew she was being told off. Once she reached my feet, she laid down and kept staring at me lowly and carefully.

Jack reached out to touch me, only for her to growl again. All I could do was frown as he retracted his hand. And she stopped. Jack and I both watched her as he slowly went to graze my shoulder. The closer he inched, the louder the growl became. The further he moved away, the quieter she got.

“What’s up with her?” Jack cocked his head in intrigue and confusion.

“I have no idea…” I shook my head in bewilderment. “I guess she can sense I’m not feeling great.”

“Huh…”

I quickly stretched out to plant a kiss on his lips instead, getting no reaction out of Olive at all.

“One-sided much?” Jack gave her a little glare before reaching back to turn off the lights.

We shuffled around to get more comfortable in the dark. It meant I had to maneuver around Olive a little, since she kept trying to be as close to me as possible, but eventually Jack and I managed to get into a position comfortable for us. He was on his back while I stayed on my side and had my head on his shoulder. We laid there in silence until Jack suddenly turned around to face me.

He put his hands on my belly and looked down at it. “You better stop hurting mommy, okay? She’s been growing you, you’ve gotta be kind.”

I guess he could somehow tell that my stomach ache was only getting worse as time slowly passed us by. I could only smile softly in response. As if nothing had happened, he flipped back onto his back and let me snuggle into him again, practically using him as a body pillow. I kissed his cheek and nuzzled my nose against the side of his face, hoping for sleep to finally consume me hours after I had originally gone to bed.

Things didn’t go too great during the night. I was up a lot. It was still relatively okay at the beginning, but I kept waking up randomly. The pain in my stomach was definitely still there. It also wasn’t getting any better. If it was getting worse, though, I didn’t know. I was constantly in a state of being half asleep. It was difficult to even notice all my senses at that point.

I finally fell into a nice sleep at around six am, when the sun had already risen. Unfortunately, I was woken up just a few hours later by Jack, who was trying to slowly bring me out of my sleep by peppering butterfly kissed all over my face. I groaned, feeling anything but rested, wishing he wouldn’t have even tried to wake me up.

“It’s nine am,” he told me in a whisper.

I breathed out heavily. “That means I’ve had three hours of sleep.”

“What?! Why!”

“Because I didn’t feel great,” I grumbled, the pillow against my cheek preventing me from talking properly.

“Shit, do you still feel bad?” He sat up and ran his fingers through my hair. “Should we maybe call the doctor?”

“I surprisingly feel okay right now…” I suddenly realised. Yes, I still felt a little nauseous and uncomfortable, but the pain was mainly gone.

“Thank god,” he sighed in relief and started getting out of bed. “You get some more sleep and I’ll make sure Lisa and Alex get their breakfast and coffee.”

“Okay.” My eyes felt heavy, but I still grabbed his hand before he could walk away. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he responded and gently kissed my hand before dropping it and disappearing to take a shower.

I fell asleep again right after. It was a proper deep sleep. Finally. I didn’t wake up for another few hours, but when I did it was very abruptly. Let’s say I didn’t wake up ‘naturally’, or better to say I didn’t wake up because I was fully rested. Instead it was pain that woke me up. It started in the middle of my stomach and grew out. If there hadn’t been a bump in the way, I would have curled up and cradled my stomach.

Slowly, it dissipated and I was left to feel a bit better. I quickly got out of bed with my heart thumping like crazy. Whatever was happening wasn’t good. My doctor had told me all about braxton hicks contractions, and I did have them before. Only it hurt more this time. Maybe I just felt them a bit more this time?

But while I was taking a shower and brushing my teeth, the pain kept coming back in random intervals. There was no real pattern to it yet, but I just knew. I didn’t wait any longer to go downstairs. Alex, Lisa, and Jack were all in our formal living room having even more coffee than they had with breakfast. They were just chatting while Lisa was also busy doing something on her iPad.

“Rachel!” Alex was the first to notice me, giving me a big smile. “You feeling any better?”

“About that…” I breathed out and supported my back with my hands, making eye contact with Jack. “You were right.”

“What?” He shook his head in confusion.

“I am definitely in labour right now.”

I could just see everybody’s face turn into surprised and worried expressions. They were all staring at me. Alex and Lisa were mainly shocked, unsure how to react (although there was also a hint of excitement is Lisa’s body language). And Jack? Well he just looked pale. I got it, though. I felt the way he looked. We thought we had a bit longer to properly prepare, especially mentally.

Jack only managed to say one thing. “Shit, really?”

“No, I was just…” Another contraction hit me, making me breath in sharply and I tried to get the rest of my sentence out, “messing… with… you.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that helps, thanks.” I gave him a sarcastic thumbs up as the pain already started fading away.

He got up quickly and raked his fingers through his hair harshly. “I mean– I just– shit.”

“Would you like to sit down?” Alex offered me, also starting to stand up to be of my assistance.

I nodded my head yes, but also didn’t really accept his proposal. He was ready to help me to the couch, yet I just lowered myself onto the floor and sat there instead. It seemed like the more comfortable position, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back up later. Olive immediately walked over from her spot on the carpet to come sit by my side again, ready to protect me from any harm.

“Alright,” Jack was finally ready to take action, “should I call somebody? Do I need to do something specific?”

“Call the doctor,” I instructed, trying to stretch out a little to see if my back would feel any better, “because I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be in labour yet.”

“Okay…” he jumped away from the couches and ran upstairs even though he had his phone on him.

I just let him do whatever, figuring rational thinking wasn’t exactly his top priority right now. While he was off doing that, I gave my full attention to Olive. There wasn’t much else I could do. I was in too much pain to go and clean up the house a little, as much as I wanted to come back to a clean house after giving birth. And I also didn’t really have the power to entertain Lisa and Alex right now. All I could do was sit and wait for this baby to come out of me.

“Are you okay?” Lisa asked with concern.

“Yeah,” I replied, continuing to rub Olive’s ears. “I knew this was coming, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?”

I shook my head, already dreading the next time a contraction hit. “Not really, no. Unless you’d like to switch bodies and do this for me?”

“I think I’ll let you take that one by yourself,” she chuckled.

I huffed, trying to focus all my attention on Olive to distract me from the pain that started up again. I could tell that my contractions were starting to become more regular and longer, but they definitely didn’t feel like one minute long yet. My doctor had said that there was no point going in until my contractions were five minutes apart and sixty seconds long. But I was unsure about that now. It was too early.

A few minutes later, Jack came tumbling down the stairs again, wanting to go faster than his feet could handle. He was carrying a duffle bag sloppily on his shoulder and his phone was clutched in his hand. Somehow, his hair was now a complete mess and he looked like he had seen something traumatising.

“I have spare clothes, baby clothes, toiletries and important documents,” he stated as he dropped the bag on the floor. “Is there anything else we need?”

I just stared back at him. Where was this sudden need to panic and rush coming from?

“Fuck! Car seat!” he suddenly exclaimed and ran to the stairs again. “I haven’t even finished building the crib yet! Shit!”

I raised my eyebrows and looked at Alex and Lisa while Jack was dashing upstairs. “Is he in labour, or am I?”

“I’ll go check up on him,” Alex chuckled and took the same path Jack had, only much more calm and collected.

Which left just me and Lisa downstairs.

“We’ll take care of Olive while you’re at the hospital,” she told me, looking at the dog who was still stuck to my side like she was the only thing keeping me alive right now.

“Thanks.” I smiled back. I had completely forgotten about Olive even though she was the one thing I was trying to pay attention to right now. “My parents were supposed to come over at the end of next week to help us out, but it’s a little late now.”

It didn’t take long until Jack and Alex came back downstairs. Jack seemed much calmer now as he carried down the car seat we had bought a while ago, full of extra blankets for our baby. He wasn’t one-hundred-percent normal, of course. There was still a lot of worry and stress behind his eyes. Afterall, he was becoming a first time dad and I was in premature labour, but he was no longer pacing around and swearing.

“Alright,” he announced as he picked up the duffle bag again, “we should go, the doctors wanted us to come as soon as possible to keep an eye on everything.”

I nodded and let go off Olive, putting my hands behind me to try and push myself up.

“Here,” Alex quickly jogged up to me and held out his hands.

I took hold of them and let him pull me up, which was relatively difficult. But it worked, he was somehow strong enough. I walked up to where Jack was already at the front door and grabbed a pair of shoes, not even bothering to put them on now. It would be dreadful to get down and tie them right now. Luckily it was warm enough for me not to need a coat.

“You guys know where everything is,” Jack told Alex and Lisa while he opened the front door. “Just eat whatever you want.”

“Good luck!” Lisa shouted as we left.

Jack practically threw everything onto the back seat before helping me into the car. Although I insisted that I could do it myself, having his hand on me supportingly did actually help, especially when a contraction hit me again just as I was about to sit. Once he shut my door, he quickly ran to the driver’s side and got in as well.

“Okay, let’s do this!” He sighed with a cheer, turning on the car. “Well, actually, you can do this!”

I chuckled and rolled my head to the left to look at him.

“In just a matter of time, we’re going to be parents.” He smiled at me and picked up my hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to it.

Although the pain was excruciating and long, it really did feel like just a matter of time in the end. It took hours before I was finally giving birth. I was lucky enough to be in labour now and not just a few weeks earlier. Jack was allowed to stay with me the entire time. If it had been earlier, he would have been forced to stay away until the actual birth. All because of safety precautions against the virus.

I really couldn’t have done it without Jack. Our baby wasn’t born until the late evening, meaning I had technically been in labour for more than 24 hours, but only really felt anything for ten. It was one horrid excruciating experience. I was ready to completely swear off sex for the rest of my life. But as soon as I got to hold him in my arms, I would have done it all over again.

Our baby Archie Jack Barakat.

He weighed six pounds and had the cutest little fingers and toes. His eyes were brown and he only had the tiniest bit of brown fuzz on his head. Honestly, I didn’t know if he looked more like me or Jack, he just looked like a baby, but he was absolutely beautiful.

We were lucky enough to already be able to go home the next day. Although he was born prematurely and was pretty small, there was nothing seriously wrong with him. I was absolutely exhausted, and was glad that we were already allowed to take him home.

As soon as we walked over the threshold to our house, Alex and Lisa were waiting for us. They had cleaned the entire house, gone out to stock us up on groceries, and even built the crib for us. It was the best thing to come home to after a hectic day and restless night. They really didn’t have to, but they still did. Even after all that, they offered to stay until my parents came over, who had rescheduled their trip to arrive in two days.

It was amazing.

Little Archie.

–––––

Archie was three months old, and it was pretty exhausting… as much as I loved him. Every two to three hours, he’d wake up and start screaming. It made complete sense, of course, he was a newborn and needed constant feeding, but that didn’t mean that the sleep deprivation was getting to me. Jack was still there the entire time the first two months, but during the third, he was gone most of the time. Although the world wasn’t fully back to normal again, All Time Low was doing things again. Small things, but it still required him to travel. Which meant I was the only one there to constantly wake up.

Luckily, Jack came back again after three weeks. He took over his half of the ‘shifts’ again, which was great for my wellbeing. The first day he came back, he actually let me catch up on sleep during the day while he spent time with Archie. It was like our roles were flipped. Usually, when Jack came home, he was the one that would need hours of sleep. Now I was the one that needed that well deserved nap.

Like we always did, Jack and I switched who would wake up every time Archie would call us. It was around four am, when I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, that we could hear clear cries coming from the nursery and the baby monitor.

“Your turn,” I mumbled while lying on my stomach, my face squished into the pillow.

“I know,” Jack responded and yawned before forcing himself out of bed.

While he was out tending to Archie, I started drifting off to sleep again. There was just one issue. It was difficult to actually fall asleep with the crying still going on. I was on the edge of the deep plunge that would bring me to a nice deep slumber until it was my turn to wake up at six. But hearing my baby cry made me stay alert. Maternal instinct, if you will.

When it felt like it had been way too long, it was impossible to actually fall asleep. I woke up fully and just had to check up to see what was going on. I was sure that Jack would come to me if something was wrong, but I still had this need to check.

So, out of bed I got. I stretched out as I left the bedroom and walked down to the room we had turned into the nursery. The hallway was completely dark, but there was a little light coming from Archie’s room, enough light to guide me to the right place.

I knocked on the doorpost and rubbed my eyes a little. “Jack? Every good?”

“Everything fine,” he responded quickly while rocking Archie back and forth in his arms to try and sooth him, facing away from me.

It did seem like Jack was telling the truth. But then he turned around and I could see that it was a lie. Jack’s eyes were bloodshot and tearing up, his lip trembling just a little as he was trying to hold back his own tears. Archie was screaming in his arms, flailing around his own limbs.

“What’s wrong?” I gasped in concern, rushing up to him. I wiped away a tear that started rolling down his cheek.

“I can’t get him to quiet down,” he inhaled a ragged breath, “he won’t take his bottle and won’t stop crying!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I tried to calm him down and took Archie from him. “Come here.”

I bounced Archie a few times and he slowly stopped his crying. It turned into fussing and hiccuping until he completely quieted down. He stared up at me expectantly, waiting to get fed. I wasn’t sure if he could recognise me, but he knew the routine by now.

I looked up at Jack, smiling to show him that everything was okay. But I just found Jack already watching us with tears streaming down his face. Immediately, my own face fell.

“Jack…” I breathed out, not knowing what was going on.

He took a step away and tugged on his hair as he shook his head. “He doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true.” I frowned.

“He only screamed louder when I picked him up,” he argued back, the tears not showing signs of stopping anytime soon. “He’s in your arms and he’s happy.”

“That’s just because I’m his main food source,” I comforted, still rocking Archie back and forth to keep him content for now. “When he’s older, you’ll be his favourite. You can teach him to speak, you’ll bring him back cool toys from all around the world, you can teach him how to ride a bike, you’ll be there to give him all the tasty unhealthy snacks. You’ll be his hero.”

Jack tried to wipe his tears away, but it wasn’t really any use. He continued to be on the verge of crying himself. I would have blamed it on the exhaustion, but he had gotten more sleep the past three weeks than he had gotten the entire two months before that. I got it, though. I was lucky that I immediately had a close connection with Archie, but I had been so afraid that that wouldn’t have come, especially with how Jack did most of the work in the first week.

“Just–” I guided Jack to the chair we always fed Archie in and made him sit down. When he seemed to be comfortable, I took a seat right on top of him in his lap and nudged his arms. “Hold Archie for me, will ya?”

He did as I asked, and wrapped his arms around me to support the small fragile body. With my own hands now free, I rolled my shirt up and exposed my left breast, which was the one Archie tended to like the most. I directed Jack with slight movements and touches to make Archie line up. Once he got a good hold, I relaxed into Jack and nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. He looked down at Archie with something that almost seemed like fascination. Maybe it was admiration.

There was still some sniffing, but the tears were starting to dry up.

“You see, he just wanted me for food, he’s perfectly happy in your arms,” I whispered.

Jack just hummed in response, not taking his eyes off Archie for even a second. After a few seconds of silent love and adoration, he finally spoke up and said. “He’s so small.”

I nodded. It was true, he was still pretty small, but he was also already so much bigger than when he was born. For now, he was still a newborn, but it was starting to go so fast. Before I knew it, he would be walking around and babbling, he’d have his first day at school, he’d be graduating and moving out. I didn’t want it to go by so fast. All I could do was savour every moment and hold onto it forever.

“Do you really think I’ll be his hero?” Jack questioned, shifting Archie in his arms a little so they wouldn’t start tingling.

“Of course!” I responded and pressed a kiss to his jawline. “He’ll always love you.”

“He’ll probably hate our music,” he chuckled. “I’ll be the uncool dad who plays uncool music.”

“Or he’ll love it and want to be a guitarist just like you.”

He broke away his gaze for the first time and glanced at me with shock and fear. “I hope not! He shouldn’t drink as much and party as much as I have.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed the top of my head and then looked back down at Archie, who was still drinking away peacefully, “and I love you too, Archie!”

–––––

When Archie was nine months old, Jack’s schedule had practically returned back to normal. He was touring again. The venues were small as not many people were allowed to go to the shows, but they still happened. Jack was just excited to go out and play live music again, even though he hated leaving me and Archie behind. But it was what we had signed up for. I never married Jack thinking he’d drop everything and stay with me.

I had always made it a point to visit Jack at least once on tour. With a newborn, that promise had kind of been broken, but now that Archie was getting older, I dared to take him on a plane with me to flight out. It was strange to think that he was now older than I had ever been pregnant with him. Nine months. It had flown by.

I had Archie in his pram, a bag with all the stuff I needed for him, and a suitcase of my own as I walked through the airport. Before having a baby, I managed to visit Jack with just hand luggage. Now I had to check in a large suitcase, have a bag full of diapers and bottles, and have an easy handbag for our passports and my phone and wallet. It was like I was going on a four week vacation, not a quick one week trip.

Although I knew to plan in extra time in case I got slowed down with Archie, I also made the decision not to go to the airport too early. Hanging around and waiting to board the airplane with a baby constantly wanting attention while feeling uncomfortable wasn’t a good plan. Somehow, I had managed to time it all perfectly. We made it through security with 20 minutes left to spare before boarding started. It was enough time for me to change Archie’s diaper and for me to go to the bathroom myself.

I was mainly afraid of the flight. It was four hours long, which was actually relatively short, but I had no idea how Archie was going to react. I didn’t want to be that one parent who couldn’t get control of their kid as they kept screaming their little lungs out. I didn’t want to annoy everybody on the plane. Fortunately it wasn’t an overnight flight, that would have been a nightmare for me.

Once we started boarding, I was forced to leave the stroller behind for them to put it in along with the check-in baggage. Then, the trek to my seat started. It was somewhere in the middle of the plane, but luckily I did have an aisle seat. Since Archie was going to have to sit on my lap the entire time, I welcomed the slight extra space and ability to get up and walk around.

When I finally found my seat, I was glad to find that the person next to me was already seated. That meant less standing up with Archie clumsily in my hands as a whole row of people waited behind me. I somehow managed to get my bag up in the overhead lockers, getting a bit of help from the guy behind me. When I finally sat down and put Archie on my lap, he started pounding his hands on my legs and cooing.

“Are you excited to see dada?” I asked him. Whenever I spoke to him, I tried to throw around the word dada as much as possible. He hadn’t said his first word yet, but I practically always begged him to say it whenever Jack and I were facetiming. It would make his entire year.

“Isn’t he a cute one?” The old lady next to me said, leaning forward and giving him a little wave.

I chuckled softly as Archie reacted positively to the extra attention he was getting. “I hope he stays cute during the flight. He’s never been on a plane before, so I have no idea how he’ll react.”

“He hasn’t? He seems to enjoy it so far.” She held out a finger, which Archie immediately grabbed and started playing with.

“No.” I shook my head and kissed the top of his head, taking in his baby scent. “We were planning on getting him used to travelling early on, but that wasn’t exactly an option anymore.”

“Things have changed, haven’t they?” She agreed and looked up at me while Archie kept hold of her finger. “Did you travel a lot before?”

“Sort of, yeah. Well, actually it’s my husband who travels a lot for work and is gone for long periods of time. I occasionally go out to see him. Now it’s the first time Archie gets to come along!”

She beamed at the name. “Ooh, Archie! My father’s name was Archibald.”

“It’s a nice name.” I didn’t really have the heart to tell her that Archie’s official name was just Archie. Both Jack and I knew it was actually a nickname for Archibald, but we just didn’t want to give our child a name that sounded so… fancy… old?

“I think it suits him very well!”

I never did catch her name, but she was like a saint the entire journey. She kept me distracted, making sure I didn’t worry about Archie getting unruly, meaning that he also couldn’t react to my non existing stress. Sometimes the stress I felt when he was crying only made him cry more.

We spoke a bit about ourselves. She told me about how she was flying out to see her daughter, who she hadn’t seen in months now. I told her a little bit more about Jack and our relationship. She helped me keep Archie busy and even took him from my lap so I could get up and go to the bathroom. I really was lucky to have been seated next to her. It made the trip so much more bearable.

Archie had practically been awake the entire flight, meaning he was out like a light when we touched down. He continued to sleep deeply against my shoulder as I got off the plane, walked through the airport, got the checked-in luggage and stroller, and even during the entire ride in the taxi. Luckily, I had fed him right before he fell asleep, so I wasn’t very worried about him suddenly screaming as I got us to the venue Jack was at. He only woke up when we got out of the taxi and I was suddenly busy trying to figure out how to carry everything and text somebody that I was outside. It was actually perfect timing.

Archie would be so happy to see Jack again.

As I started trying to find out where to go to get in, I realised that I was on the complete wrong side of the building. But there was only one way to get to the other side. Well, one way other than a sketchy back alley that I was definitely not going to find myself walking down ever. Not even with a personal armed bodyguard. My only route to take was past the front entrance and all the fans waiting to get inside. That was a clear winner.

I pushed the stroller and pulled along the suitcase, trying my best to avoid the queue. Usually, there was bound to be at least one person to recognise me. Although I didn’t mind talking to Jack’s fans, I also didn’t want to overwhelm Archie. He’d already had a busy and adventure packed day. I preferred him leaving some energy to actually see Jack over him crying in exhaustion as soon as I entered the venue.

When I was about halfway past the line, I heard my name being called out. I had no idea where it was coming from, but out of politeness, I slowed down. Suddenly, a small group of three girls were surrounding me.

“Hi!” One of them blurted out with wide eyes.

“Hey,” I returned with a big smile, “how are you guys?”

“Good!” She squeaked back. “Are you here to visit Jack?”

“I am indeed.”

Archie started to get impatient. He wanted to get out and move around after being forced to sit the majority of the day. Ever since he started crawling, he couldn’t really sit still for long anymore. The definition of Jack’s child. He started to kick around his legs in annoyance and made blubbering noises, which he usually did when he wanted to be let out of his car seat or high chair.

“He’s so cute!” Another girl, who was standing at the end of the stroller gushed.

“Thanks,” I acknowledged. Although I often got comments like that, it always made me feel a little proud. Afterall, Jack and I literally made him.

“Can I get a picture?” The first girl asked me as she held out her phone.

“Of course!” I accepted.

She turned on her selfie camera and got in closer. I put on a smile and posed with her as she took a few pictures. Everything was still going fine until she was satisfied with the outcome of the pictures. She put her phone back in her pocket and I realised that the person who had made the comment about Archie being cute was taking her own photos of him. It wasn’t even subtle. She was crouched down, acting like she was playing with him with one hand, but the other one quickly taking snaps with her phone.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted as she just kept taking more and more, “do you mind not taking any photos of him?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” she shook her head and took another one, “I won’t post them anywhere.”

I frowned and glared a little at her. Yes, Jack and I had decided not to post any pictures of him with his face clearly in it except for his birth announcement. We didn’t want to plaster his face all over the internet when he had no say in it. That was for him to decide later in life when he had his own opinions. But the way this girl just dismissed my request was making my blood boil. Her reasoning was not comforting at all.

I would have kept my cool and asked again nicely, but she was just being rude to me. “You do realise that’s even creepier right? You’re taking countless pictures of my son to keep for yourself. How would you like it if some stranger came up to you and took photos just for them to keep?”

She gave me a judgemental look but did stop taking even more pictures. “I’m not going to do anything weird with them.”

“I’m not saying you will, it’s just disrespectful. There’s a reason we don’t share pictures of him.”

“He’s just a baby.”

“Exactly. Would you please mind deleting the photos?”

She gave me the death stare and her two friends just stood around uncomfortably. They were defending her, but I wasn’t sure if it was because they agreed with me or because they were too afraid to say anything. Either way, they didn’t want this confrontation.

“Please,” I repeated, still staring at her to show that I wasn’t going to break.

She huffed in annoyance as if her mom had just told her no dessert until the vegetables on her plate were finished. Still, she reluctantly unlocked her phone and selected all the photos she took. There was some hesitation before she hit the delete button, as if waiting for me to change my mind. But I wasn’t going to. This was my baby we were talking about.

“Thank you.” I smiled while she gave me an unamused scowl. I then looked at the other two girls, “It was nice meeting you guys!”

“You too…” the girl who took selfies with me mumbled.

I then took my opportunity to leave. As soon as they thought I was out of range, the rude girl grumbled ‘what a bitch’, but I really wasn’t bothered. Nobody messes with my child. I didn’t care if that meant she now hated me. I full-heartedly believed that I was right. Actually, no, I knew that I was right. It was not cool to take pictures of a baby without permission, especially a stranger’s baby. They might have felt like they knew me because they were Jack’s fans, but they really didn’t.

Luckily, I wasn’t stopped again and managed to make it into the venue without any further hassle. A member of the crew let me in and brought me to where all the fun was happening before leaving to get on with setting up. I turned the corner to enter the green room and saw a few guys standing around, including Jack slouching on the couch, manspreading like he had all the space in the world.

When he coincidentally looked in my direction, a smile spread across his face. He got up and immediately came towards me. Once he was close enough, he kissed me as a greeting. More than a peck, but still PG-13 with all these people around us. As soon as he broke away from me, he went straight to Archie, undoing the clips of the seat. Archie knew exactly who was coming. He started letting out excited noises and screams, kicking his legs and throwing up his arms. He was so happy when Jack picked him up.

“How has my little man been?” He asked in his voice reserved for Archie, ticking his tummy and bouncing him a little, getting an ecstatic squeal out of him. “Have you been good today?”

While Jack was giving Archie countless kisses all over his little face, I decided to answer the question. “He was so good on the plane. Didn’t even cry during the descent! I was lucky, though, the woman next to us loved him and helped me keep him occupied the entire time.”

“You’ve been so good!” Jack gasped in his baby voice. “Did you like the plane?”

I chuckled softly and left Jack have his moment with Archie. Although Jack had been so afraid they would never bond when Archie was still very young, they were now inseparable. Facetiming ‘dada’ was always one of his favourite parts of the day when Jack was gone. Otherwise, playtime with dada or a nap with him was the best.

“I got you something!” Jack remembered excitedly and walked over to his backpack. Out he pulled a stuffed gray elephant and he started showing it off to Archie. He went to sit down again and started talking through the elephant while Archie grabbed a handful of the toy.

I walked further inside and moved the stroller and suitcase to the side of the room, so I wouldn’t be blocking the doorway. It wasn’t really the best place to put them, they were still a little in the way with how much space they took up, but anything was better than leaving them in a walkway.

“Rachel!” Alex approached, coming from somewhere else in the venue and seeing me from the hallway.

“Hey!” I replied as we shared a hug.

“How was your flight?”

“Pretty good, actually.”

“So Archie behaved?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. As if on cue, Archie started giggling loudly at something Jack was doing. “Archie! I haven’t seen you since you were born!”

He really was getting all the attention today. Alex even went to sit next to Jack and join in with the playing. It did look fun, and Archie was as cute as ever. But I had just spent four hours with him on my lap. Having other people take over was a nice little break.

“We set up the back lounge to be a big bed for you guys,” Alex informed me, looking up from how he was leaning over to be eye height with Archie.

“You didn’t have to do that!” I told him

“No, no we definitely did,” Jack quickly interrupted before I could change anybody’s mind. “I’m not sleeping in a bunk with all three of us.”

“I was just expecting it would be me and Archie on the couch,” I admitted. A bunk with Archie wouldn’t work.

With all the stuff I brought along I also had a travel crib. It wasn’t really a crib, more like a fold out basket that was made of soft fabric and had a little mattress built in on the bottom. Although I didn’t mind taking naps with Archie, I didn’t want him actually in bed with me at night. I was too afraid I’d smother him with our blankets if we did. But if he was in the crib-like thing, I could put him next to me and he’d be safe.

Alex shook his head. “No, we figured this would work out better. You’d be in the back lounge anyway.”

“Well, thanks, then, I appreciate it.”

A few minutes later, Alex was pulled away to go do something else, meaning I could take his spot next to Jack on the couch. I was leaning against his side, my head against his shoulder, and my legs resting on top of his knees. Archie was still taking up most of the space on his lap. The exhaustion was starting to hit me now, but I couldn’t help but enjoy this moment with my little family.

Jack was still playing with the elephant. Archie seemed to absolutely love that thing already. Usually, it took him a while to warm up to new toys, but this was like his new favourite one. I didn’t know how Jack knew he’d fall in love with it. It was just so cute to see. Both Archie and Jack were delighted, sharing a very similar smile.

“Can you say elephant?” Jack said slowly, holding out the toy for Archie.

All he got in return was something that sounded like ‘eeeee’. Maybe he was trying to copy the sounds Jack was making, maybe it was just a coincidence. But it was definitely exciting to get something that was relatively close out of him.

“What about dada, can you say dada?” I asked, stroking his cheek.

He stared at me with his big beautiful brown eyes, inspecting my face. And then it suddenly happened.

“Da. Da.” He blurted out.

Jack looked at me with wide eyes as he gasped. To be honest, I was a little shocked as well. Ecstatic, but shocked that he just suddenly copied me.

“Dada!” Archie repeated, slamming his fists against Jack’s chest.

That’s all that we needed to know he was copying me and knew at least what it sort of meant. Jack cheered and picked him up. Archie wouldn’t stop laughing and screeching with joy as he was peppered with kisses coming from Jack.

Those two were inseparable.

.

.

.

.

So, this is the last part of this story. I thought this was a nice place to round it off. However, I have been thinking about writing a few more parts. Only, they'd be much much shorter. Maybe around 700-1500 words. Like little moments in time. If it's something any of you would be interested in, do let me know, otherwise I'll put that time into my other stories.

[kezikatescribbling]

Where Did You Go?

Chapter 1: See You Later

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

F/M

Summary: Leon and [Yn] have been friends for years, but over the past two weeks they finally began dating. It's all going well until [Yn] goes missing. With a trail of clues that leave Leon more questions than answers, will he be able to find her?

Also on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20546981/chapters/48773189

“Alright babe, I’ll see you tonight for dinner?” [Yn] leans in for a quick last kiss at the door, Leon meeting her lips with his, chasing after them to prolong the contact as [Yn] pulls away, laughing and gently pushing him away.

“Mmm, pizza, cheesy, unrealistic sci-fi horror movies about sharks, and you. A trifecta.” He reaches out and pulls [Yn] close, “I,” a kiss on her cheek, “can’t,” a kiss to the other cheek, “wait.” A kiss on the nose. [Yn] giggling adorably with each soft brush of Leon’s lips left him feeling warm inside and he couldn’t keep the dazzling grin from his face.

Getting one last desperate kiss, Leon finally lets [Yn] escape his apartment. It won’t be too long until he sees her again. But even so, dinner felt so long away, and Leon was beginning to think he was getting addicted to [Yn]’s kisses.

                                                    🙠

This budding romance was still new, only officially turning romantic a couple weeks ago. [Yn] has been Leon’s closest friend for several years now, and as a fellow survivor of the Raccoon City incident, a rare, and deeply treasured, outlet for his insecurities and worries about the state of the world and the growing threat of bio-organic terror. But recently, things had started to change.

Leon found himself fixating on little things, things he was sure others wouldn’t notice; like how their [Yn]’s shone a slightly different color at just the right angle in the sunlight, the different colored flecks in her eyes that you could only see if you were close, the way she had an extra spring in her step sometimes when she walked up to him, hands behind her back and fighting a grin, and he just knew she had gotten him a special treat, usually a cupcake, [Yn] had one hell of a sweet tooth.

There were a million other things, and he could spend hours listing them all. He had started noticing these things about a year ago, and boy had he been terrified.  [Yn] was special to him in a way no one had been before in his life, and he could not mess that up. He’d berated himself for being a cliche, all the while keeping his feelings a secret and trying his best to be happy with what he had, smothering that spark of hope that their relationship could be more.

As the months went by, he had grown accustomed to the bittersweet ache in his chest every time [Yn] was near, close enough to touch, to kiss, to confess all the emotions he’d been holding back, but was too afraid to voice. He told himself it was worth the pain to keep her close. Leon didn’t know what he’d do without [Yn] in his life, and he was not willing to risk it.

Then, two weeks ago, [Yn] had invited Leon to the local pond to go swimming. It was a beautiful sunny day, most likely the last warm day, as fall was settling in. He, of course, said yes, and enjoyed the day of laughter and sunshine, while internally reminding himself that it was not a date. While [Yn] was stalking him in the water, Leon decided it was time for some revenge for all the splashing he’d endured. He shot [Yn] a playful grin before diving under the water and under [Yn]’s feet to come up behind her, suddenly reaching out and grabbing her waist. 

[Yn] obviously had not seen that coming and gasped, turning fast in the water and scrambling away from the sudden unexpected contact. Unfortunately, in the flailing [Yn] had gone just below the surface before the gasp of surprise, and ended up breathing in a sharp breath of mostly water.

Leon didn’t even have the chance to enjoy the adorable shocked look on [Yn]’s face before [Yn] was in a coughing fit, her body desperately trying to expel the water and get air in its place. Seeing her struggling, Leon feels panic set in and before he knows it he’s dragging [Yn] back to shore and carrying her to their blanket that was laid out in the grass close by. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around [Yn]’s shoulders alternating between rubbing soothing circles into her back and giving gentle smacks between her shoulder blades to help get the water out.

Leon could feel the worry pinching his face, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought back the panic, telling himself it was just a little water, [Yn] was ok, she was going to be ok. He watched [Yn]’s face, her eyes watering, face red from the powerful coughs, fighting for control over her breathing.

After what felt like hours to Leon, [Yn] finally started to stop coughing, only letting out a few randomly, taking deep breaths, filling her lungs with air again. Leon sagged with relief, throwing a tired smile at [Yn], who returned it, still blinking back the tears from the coughing.

Leon still had his arm around [Yn], but in his distraction he had stopped rubbing her back, instead, winding around her waist, thumb gently caressing her hip. He found himself mesmerized again by [Yn]’s eyes, falling into their depths, and never wanting to resurface. [Yn] was so close, he could feel her breath on his face, and before he could stop himself he was leaning in to finally, finally press his lips against [Yn]’s, eyes fluttering shut as he feels that her lips really were as soft as they looked.

Leon’s thoughts catch up with him and he pulls back, an apology on the tip of his tongue, when he sees the soft look on [Yn]’s face, a grin breaking and those beautiful eyes sparkling.

“Took you long enough.” [Yn] whispers before leaning in for a longer kiss, her hand coming up to slide fingers through Leon’s hair, gripping it lightly, pulling him even closer. Leon laughs delightedly into the kiss wrapping his arms around [Yn]’s towel swaddled body and holding on tight, never wanting to let go.

                                                      🙠

Leon smiles at the memory and goes around the apartment, clearing the dishes from their late breakfast and putting the couch pillows back where they belong. [Yn] had an odd fixation with sitting on the floor. [Yn] loved curling up with a blanket and leaning against the couch, putting the cushions behind her to make it more comfortable. It was one of [Yn]’s many quirks that Leon found endearing and adorable, not minding at all that his living room was nearly always in shambles.

Leon keeps himself busy, putting finishing touches on a few reports, cleaning the already clean counter, vacuuming the floor of the living room, just to make sure the carpet is clean for snuggling up on it later for movies. He does all this while trying, and failing, to keep his eyes off the clock. At six o’clock, close to when [Yn] will be back, Leon puts her favorite blanket in the clothes dryer so it will be warm when she arrives. Pizza is on the way, and the movie is queued up, all that’s missing is [Yn].

Leon fiddles with the pillows, getting them to sit just so, then deciding to rearrange them again, then again. He checks his phone every few minutes, just to make sure he didn’t miss a call, but of course he hasn’t, it’s never more than a few feet from him, it would be impossible to not hear it.

Around seven, Leon starts to wonder where [Yn] is. It’s really not like her to be late. She had to drop some things off at the office and run a couple errands, and she’d estimated that she’d be back, at the very latest, by six thirty. But she could have stopped to get something on the way over.

Leon’s mind is buzzing with possibilities, most of them painting terrible pictures in his mind; [Yn] in trouble, backed into a corner, zombies chasing her through the streets, her voice, clouded with fear, calling out for help, calling for him, but he’s not there.

Leon screws his eyes shut and shakes his head, trying to jar the images loose, drown out the awful thoughts. He opens his eyes and grabs the remote, flipping the TV on to a random channel, something he doesn’t have much interest in, but at least it fills the silence of the apartment.

At eight, Leon is officially worried. He tries calling [Yn], but it goes straight to voicemail. He bites his lip, his heart starting to beat faster. He tries calling again, still straight to voicemail. He covers his face with his hands and tries to take deep breaths, tries to find logical, not deathly, reasons why [Yn] is late and not answering her phone. 

Maybe she’s stuck in a tunnel with no service? That’s ridiculous, there aren’t any tunnels nearby that she could reasonably be trapped in. Her phone could be dead, but she never leaves it uncharged, or off, just in case of an emergency. Someone needed to talk to her at work, and held her up? But no, she would have called him from one of the work phones at least.

Leon’s plan to calm himself with logic and reason are backfiring. The truth is...There is no good explanation he can come up with that would explain all the variables. Why would she be late and not let him know, why is her phone off? Questions are swirling out of control in Leon’s mind, and at last he can’t take it anymore.

He’s done waiting.

Ch. 2

[vminity21]

Not Alone Tonight

Pairing: Seokjin X Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: smut

It doesn’t take words.

Especially with the way his brown eyes sweep your figure from top to bottom, your teeth grazing your bottom lip nearly flattered by his eloquent smirk. Both of you know exactly what the other is thinking, your core tightening with the desire to know what it’s like to be with him. Only meeting a few hours ago, he’s hard to resist- the most handsome man you have ever seen- drawing you in almost instantly even with the tempting whiff of his cologne, his aura igniting a lust you haven’t experienced in a long, deprived while.

In one swift motion, his hands rapidly grip your waist, pinning you against the black railing of the front porch, seizing your lips with his, your hand flying to the back of his head just to clutch soft, frilly tufts of platinum blonde hair. The tug brings a low moan to his mouth causing him to press his hips into yours, the feel of his erection nearly bringing you to your knees. Sounds of cars passing by knocks some sense into you, breaking the kiss just for Seokjin to fumble with his keys until he’s able to unlock the front door with hardly a straight mind.

Slamming the door shut, Seokjin covers your cheeks with his warm, calloused palms, kissing you once again, the fast pace of his lips makes you want to sex him on the spot with the strong fire burning within your heat, but there’s more to him you want to know. More of him you want to see. You help him shed his colorful jacket, it hitting the floor while he nearly rips yours off your shoulders, tossing it randomly to the side before he starts unbuttoning your blouse- his lips pecking yours ever so softly whilst concentrating on the task at hand- getting you naked, and getting you naked on top of him.

It doesn’t take long until both your bodies are completely bare- kisses so addicting it’s hard to refrain. Jin hoists you in the air, his arms bulging while his hands grip your thighs- pinioning your back against the cool wall, your legs wrapping around him, one arm on his bare shoulders, the other hand in his hair. Your soaked entrance rests against his abdomen, clenching along his skin, he groans upon your lips from the continuous actions of your heat relentlessly throbbing- begging for more. "Mmm." You moan lips remaining locked while his warmth embraces you. He presses his body tighter to you brushing the tip of his tongue with yours as you grip at his back, your breathing increasing with every movement of his lips. Seokjin twirls around and carries you to his bedroom crashing you on his bed, the covers indent beneath you, instinctively your hands' grip at the fabric, the material soft between your fingers. The two of you gaze in each other's eyes, but only for a moment, before he starts kissing you again. His hands slither up your ribcage to palm at your breasts, the ticklish feel of your nipples really drives you wild, him sucking at the smooth skin of your breasts leaving bruised marks for you to be reminded when his presence isn’t around. Both of you on your knees at this point, he runs his tongue along your nipples, and without realizing, both your hands are now squeezing his shoulders, the fervor below you feels intense as he continues licking your breasts. Moving your arms around his neck, you crave more of his kiss; the paradise of his skin on yours sends a violent shake to your legs, enfolding your thighs to suppress the aching, but only momentarily.

The wild inside you starts coming alive, bringing one hand to stroke his erection, his expression revealing utter ecstasy at how good you feel satisfying him; sighing seductively into his ear, you whisper, "I've got an idea." If the two of you aren't already moving fast enough, the squeaky sound of the shower starting fills you with anticipation. Both of you don't even wait until the water is warm, Seokjin shuts the glass door then crashes his lips to yours, pinning you against the chilly shower wall- his hand wraps around your wrist, his tongue flouncing with yours, the water sweltering as it pours all over your frames. You gaze at the scene in front of you. You thought he was hot before, but with steamy water dripping down his face and through his hair, the attraction has grown immensely. Your craving for him is so strong to the point your body can’t take it.

"I think this is the best idea anyone has ever had." He breathes, his smile meeting your ear.

"Mmm." You moan, planting kisses along his neck and jaw then coming back to his mouth- nipping his bottom lip for a tease. Your hands moving to glide along his chest, he follows your lead, slipping onto the ground cautiously, spreading your legs- the water heating your slit sending waves of goosebumps to invade your skin. “Ohhh, Jinnn,” you breathe, the tips of his fingers finding your clit, hastily vibrating to stimulate the bliss within your vaginal walls- you don’t expect him too, but when he lifts your legs- water showering his back, completely drenching his hair, that’s when you feel it. The slippery touch of his tongue sliding plentifully against your core not allowing you one moment to get a hold of yourself. The sensation is one you have yet to experience- intense heat of droplets panging your folds while Seokjin pleasures you with his skilled tongue, your clit pulses- relishing in the feel of his hands gripping your thighs whilst he keeps them raised- flicking his tongue into your walls, moving his fingertips to rub your clit simultaneously. Your climax is coming to its peak, your moans echoing within the shower, growing higher the moment his fingertips graze your nipples tenderly, your limbs violently shaking in response.

You raise to stop him, smirking when you turn to let his eyes enlarge at the sight of your taunting ass. Teasing him with your clenching core, Seokjin rises to rest his area behind you, bringing the tip of his penis to your entrance, your palms placed in front of you firmly, the shower drowning out your staggered breaths once he slowly moves into you. “Ahhh,” you sigh in relief at the feel of him finally pushing- starting off slowly, in and out, his hand spreading along the base of your back while he gradually thrusts, him nearly cumming at the undeniable warmth your heat gives off- your sodden walls coating his erection with each shove.

As the night drives on, you end up back in his bed- him thrusting roughly inside you- the feeling building and building to the point your body tenses. As you finish, so does he. "Mm baby." You gasp. The pleasure causing both of you to crash side by side. Exhaustion hitting you after a few minutes, to your surprise, you feel his warm hand intertwine his fingers with yours prompting you to look over to see him staring at you as if you're the only girl in the world.

"What?" You manage to say, your breathing beginning to calm. His eyes still fixated on you, Seokjin gives a side grin, and as you wait for him to speak, he doesn't. Instead, he rests his hand on your cheek, reaches over and gives you the sweetest kiss you have ever felt. It only lasts for a few seconds, but long enough to where you can feel everything. Heart melting, you touch the tip of your nose to his and turn around as he wraps his arms around you. Finally, for the first time in a long time, you're thankful that you're not sleeping alone tonight.

[canaryatlaw]

alright I really need to get to bed. I was set to write this like twenty minutes ago but then I realized I hadn’t taken my pills yet so I went to do that and then swallowed them all at once because I’m impatient when I usually due it in two batches and inevitably one got stuck in my throat because my esophagus occasionally tries to choke me to death randomly when I do things like swallow too many pills at much so then I felt like I was going to throw up and had to swallow like 4 spoonfuls of honey until it finally went away. and then I returned to my computer and then got distracted by the BTS performance video and watched half of that before returning to actually write this. so that was a playback of the last twenty minutes of my life, but we can get on to the rest of it now. I had set my alarm for 11 just so that I didn’t sleep in too much but when it went off I still wanted to sleep more so I slept for like another hour then got up and discovered bagels had already been obtained, which was helpful because I thought I was going to have to go obtain them myself, so that made my life easier. so I ate a bagel that was very good. We were gonna keep some for tomorrow morning but then I think it was decided that we’re gonna go out to breakfast so hopefully I can steal a few bagels and shove them into my bag before I leave, I had some space when I finished packing on the way here and I didn’t buy anything, so I should be able to fit a few. we kinda just chilled for a while after that until around 3 when we left to go to the movies since my mom wanted to see the mr rogers movie (”A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood”) so my parents, my brother, and I went to do that. It was a really good movie, Tom Hanks portrayal was phenomenal, he embodied him so well and the whole thing was just so well done it made me really happy to see. I also may have texted a bit during the movie (but with my phone brightness all the way down so nobody could actually see it, I’m not that much of an asshole) because the dude I went on a date with last week texted me back, and I asked if he wanted to go to the jingle bash concert next weekend because I had an extra ticket, but like he could definitely say no if it was too much, and he was basically like “so I really hate pop music” and I just laughed and was like that’s totally fine, I wouldn’t want to put you through a night of torture, especially since I hadn’t mentioned there was gonna be two kpop bands there that were the actual reasons I wanted to go, and I would probably inevitably thirst after them watching them perform and this probably was not a good dating activity lol. I’ll probably ask my roommate if she wants to go and if she can’t I may just sell the ticket on stubhub and be a loner for the night (which I don’t particularly want to do because I don’t like doing things by myself, but I might not really have a choice). but yeah, after the movie we dropped my brother off at home and then went to get italian food for dinner. I had previously googled fred rogers because I wanted to see when he had died (2003, in case you were wondering), and one of the articles that popped up first was a review of the movie that was like “Christian faith is the one thing that was missing from [movie]” and I was like huh that’s an interesting take (especially when there was definitely a scene where he was praying and it was mentioned that he was an ordained minister) and it was just like this review trashing the movie as being humanistic and secularist and how all of its hope and goodwill were empty and meaningless without an acknowledgement of his Christianity and I was just like.....what the fuck movie did you watch??? Both my parents had loved the movie and I told them about this and they were both like wtf too because that’s such a shallow and short sighted perspective to think that no good can come from a piece of media without an explicit gospel message coming through. and that was like, a huge part of my college Christian artist perspective with the idea being working on “redemptive” art that doesn’t necessarily have to focus on evangelizing (and tbh, the more explicitly gospel aimed productions were usually the weaker ones). and like, reading that just irritated me so much like...imagine thinking that any kindness you express is worthless unless you’re shoving Jesus down their throat at the same time and that’s just like....that makes no sense at all and is completely unrealistic. There’s a Christian song i’m partial to called Live Like That which contains the lyrics “people pass/and even if they don’t know my name/is there evidence that I’ve been changed/when they see me do they see You?” and that’s just always what I’m focusing on- spreading God’s love without the need for words even, just through action alone. I shouldn’t have to spout off the gospel to show love to someone, it doesn’t work like that. and I mean, I don’t automatically devalue any explicitly Christian productions as there have been a few that were actually very well done (though admittedly most of them are pretty crappy). there had been a trailer playing before the movie for the movie coming out about Jeremy Camp (who’s a fairly well known Christian singer) that has KJ Apa in the lead role and it actually looks like it could be really good, but the audience that’s actually going to see that movie is barely a fraction of the audience that would go to the mr rogers movie. This was such an awesome opportunity to share love and kindness and they did it so damn well, I just thought it was so callous and ignorant to totally dismiss the movie because it didn’t contain an explicit gospel message. I’m rambling now, I know, though before I totally get off the topic I did also want to mention we also saw a trailer for the movie adaptation of Just Mercy, which was a book written by Bryan Stevenson, the founder of Equal Justice Works, which is a huge public interest law group that provides a ton of fellowships funding new attorneys who want to work do public interest work, and I know several people who had such fellowships with them (I came very close to applying but I had gotten the info about it too close to the deadline to really come up with a good proposal so I decided against it). so I’m super pumped for that movie as well, I do have a copy of the book that I received from that pro bono training we did at the fancy law firm a few weeks ago, I might have to sit down and read through it (which isn’t something I’ve really done with physical books since law school, you just do so much reading for school it kinda kills reading for pleasure for you, though I do still read plenty of fanfiction, lol). but now, anyway. the italian food was good, though when we got home I had a got a pretty bad stomach ache, but I don’t really know if it was the food or some other random reason because my body is crappy like that. but yeah, for most of the rest of the night I just chilled on the couch with my parents and a heating pad which I still have on my stomach currently, though it’s mostly feeling better. and yeah, eventually people went to go to bed and I showered and then came back here to start writing and went through the sequence of events recounted at the beginning of this post, and now I’m here. It’s now 1:30 am and I do have to wake up at some point not too late in order to go to breakfast because the car is coming to take me to the airport at 2:30 (I know that sounds so pretentious and spoiled and every time I say something like that I feel the need to explain my dad is really good friends with the owner of a limo company and he gives us free airport rides whenever we want, which is very generous of him, and my parents hate laguardia airport more than anything so I tend to get driven by them fairly often) so we’d obviously have to go sometime before that, and henceforth, I should go to bed now, so that is what I’m going to do. Goodnight friends. Goodbye November, hello December. 

[kristannafever-fics]

Unknown Fate - Part One

KRISTANNA WEEK 2018 ~ Nov 6th - Prompt: Shelter

Kristanna Canon Divergence AU (Multi-Chapter)

Rated: T

WC: 4108

~ Okay, I started writing this in the late summer based solely on this opening scene when it randomly popped into my head one day, therefore I apologize ahead of time for the disjointed and weak plot that accompanies it, lol!  But hey it fits with today’s prompt!

_______________

Anna never thought she’d find herself in the streets without a home, begging for scraps that no one could afford to give.   As the crown Princess of Arendelle, she never thought she would ever want for simple things, like food and shelter.

How the tables could turn…

Now she was nothing but a homeless beggar.  A vagrant. Someone with no practical skills in which to get herself a job, forced to live on the streets, unable to support herself in the most basic of ways.  Maybe if she had left with more than just the clothes on her back she could have figured something out.  She supposed she should feel lucky to even have made it out alive.  She should be grateful.

Instead she was filled with fear and anger to accompany the constant ache of her hunger.

Sometimes she got lucky. Every once in a while, a merchant would take pity on her, throwing some stale bread at her feet.  Most of the time she was simply told to move along and stop chasing away paying customers.

If only they knew…

Nights once spent in the castle, warm in her lavish bed with a fire burning brightly in the hearth, were now replaced by cold, sleepless nights in which she shivered uncontrollably, stomach cramping painfully from hunger.  

Once upon a time she used to think she knew what hunger felt like.  It was but a papercut compared to the gaping wound of pain in her abdomen now.  

That was why she had come to the market to steal.  She was too hungry to try and beg for hours.  She already saw her target; a bag of food hanging from a sled.  The last stall at the market was an easy getaway. Just take it and run.

Anna eyed the apple and the carrots, saliva pooling in her mouth.  How long had it been since she’d had a fresh piece of fruit or veg?  She couldn’t remember.  Maybe she should beg.  Surely the man could spare a single carrot for her.  Or the apple?

Anna licked her lips at the thought of biting into its shiny red skin.

The man suddenly turned around and Anna changed her position, shrinking back against the wall and dropping her eyes.  She never felt his gaze on her, probably too focused on setting up to notice a lowly peasant woman.   She had begged and stolen from enough merchants to recognize when they were paying her attention or not.

The big blond turned back and hopped up into the sleigh, moving more ice blocks to the back for easier access.  Anna surveyed the bag of food again.  It was too close to him for her not to be caught red handed.  She needed him to be distracted.  She needed someone to buy ice from him.

It was early however and the market had barely opened.  She knew she would have to wait, despite the sharp pain in her belly.  Lucky she was good at biding her time.  She had more practice in that than she ever thought she would.

She resigned to watch him from the corner of her eye.  After he seemed to have the ice where he wanted it, the hard-working purveyor stood and wiped a forearm across his brow.  Anna couldn’t remember a time when she had seen a man so big.  When she was young, to her the guards in the castle had always seemed like big, barrel chested, impossibly strong men.  This guy almost to put them to shame.  She didn’t want to steal from him, she didn’t want to steal from anybody really, but she wouldn’t dare to beg this man.  If the scowl he’d been wearing on his face was any indication, she would likely be told to scram if she asked for a single carrot.

It wasn’t like she was going to steal that much.   Just grab the apple and run.  Okay, maybe a carrot too, but that was all.  She was almost positive with the size of the man that there would be plenty more in the bottom of the sack.  Maybe some dried meats, or some fresh rolls, or perhaps – gasp –  even a pastry!?

Anna gripped her middle as her stomach rumbled painfully.  Best not to think about such delicacies.  

Instead she thought about the past.

The events of that day felt like an eternity ago.  The gates were finally open for her sister’s coronation.  Open for the first time that Anna could even remember.  She was headed out into the town to enjoy her exuberance. She was almost free too, when she was summoned back into the castle to prepare for the ceremony at the last minute.  She didn’t even know why she had to be there. No one gave her anything to do. All she was tasked with, was where to stand.  Apparently, Elsa didn’t even think she would get that right as Kai went over with her again the precise events of the coronation.

Late at nights, when she was too cold to sleep, Anna would often wonder what would have happened had she been able to explore the kingdom that afternoon.  Maybe she would have been able to talk to a few people and work out the nervous jitters from having no one to converse with except for staff and the paintings in the castle gallery for all those years.  Would she have been less awkward with the gorgeous man who approached her during the dance?  Maybe.  Probably. Instead she had gotten tongue tied and the dashing, young man – although he had laughed it off – gave Anna the feeling that she was making a fool of herself.  

Flustered and impossibly embarrassed, she had disappeared down the expansive halls and out onto the roof where she went to be alone.  

Staring up into the starry sky that night, she wondered what was going to become of her sister now that she was Queen.  Anna had no doubt that she would close the gates again.  Could Anna really live like that the rest of her life?  Shut off from the world again.  Alone.  She didn’t think so.

In truth, she knew she couldn’t.  She simply could not live like that anymore.

This night was her one chance.  Her once chance to branch out and try to change the way things had been since she could remember.   She had to go back to the party and try again.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, she put a smile on her face and headed back down to the ball, only to find out that people were leaving as Elsa had put an early end to the festivities.

Feeling ill, was her excuse. She was no longer in the ball room when Anna returned.  Anna knew she would be in her expansive room, the one her parents used to have, doing Gods knows what.

The thing that absolutely crushed her soul, was to see the lovely green eyes of the dashing, auburn-haired fellow being ushered out of the main entrance, looking at her with clear regret and a hint of longing.

If only she had stayed! If only she had simply sucked it up and laughed off her own awkwardness to continue talking to him.  She suddenly realized that living in the castle walls without companionship since her parents died, had left her completely naive to normal social interaction.

And where was Elsa through all of this?  Locked tightly away in her room, shutting her out like always.  

Anna’s anger boiled over and she stormed up the stairs, finally ready to unleash her emotions on her sister.  She was not prepared to see what she did when opened the door to his sisters room without knocking…

“Ay, how much for a block?”

Anna had been so caught up in the past that she didn’t even realize the blond had a customer.  This was going to be her only chance.  She needed to act fast or she was going to starve all day.

Quick and quiet, she tiptoed up to the side of the sled as the big guy turned to talk to the customer. She didn’t pay attention to what they were saying, it didn’t matter.  She was focused on grabbing the food and slipping away unnoticed.

Anna ducked when she got closer, hunching forward as she crept slowly ahead along the front of the sled. She was so close.  She reached up and grasped the apple, prepared to turn around immediately, when she hesitated.  She was just so hungry, she reached up with her other hand and grabbed however many carrots she could manage in her tiny palm.  She was turning to escape when someone suddenly grasped her forearm.

She looked down at the big, warm hand clamped on her arm, then followed it up to the frowning face of the man who was selling ice.

“What do you think you are doing?” he growled.

This was not the first time she had been caught.  She immediately turned on the waterworks.

“Please, sir.  I am sorry,” she cried quietly, making herself tear up.  “I am just a lowly beggar in need of food.”

“You’re a thief,” he countered calmly, his frown deepening.

“I’m so hungry,” Anna pleaded, ready to amp up her voice and wail if it was called for.

That’s when his eyes changed and his face softened with them.

“I would have given them to you if you had asked,” he sighed, releasing her arm.

Anna’s first instinct was to run.  Run away and find a corner to fill her belly with ravenous teeth.  Instead she paused, taken aback by the reaction she had never gotten before.

“Go on, take what you need,” he gestured to the sack on the sled.  “You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Anna suddenly burst into real tears.  She had forgotten what simple kindness felt like.  She suddenly felt terrible for every morsel of food that she had ever stolen, even if it had saved her life more than once.  She would have dropped the apple as she collapsed onto her knees, had she not been so aware of how valuable fresh food could be.  

“Forgive me,” she wailed, snot bubbling from her nose as tears spilled mercilessly from her closed lids. “I don’t mean to steal, I am just so hungry.  Please forgive me,” she choked.  

“Hey, hey, hey,”

She suddenly realized that she could feel the heat pouring off of him and the breath of his speech on her cheek.  “Stop, okay? I’m not mad, just, please stop crying!” he hissed.  “You’re making a scene!”

Anna pulled in gulps of air until she was able to control her sobs.  When she thought she had herself under control, she finally opened her eyes and looked up at his face.

The compassion from his brown eyes nearly took her breath away.  He was kneeling with his big forearm bracing himself on his other bent leg, looking at her closely.  When was the last time someone had looked at her so closely?  No one ever gave her a second glance.  People could barely even look at her for how dirty and disheveled she had become.  Often times they would sneer at her when shooing her away or throwing her scraps that were headed for the garbage.

Why was this man so different?

They both turned when someone cleared their throat.  The big man took to his feet to attend to the customer while Anna remained where she was, too stunned from the interaction to move.  It took hardly any time before the blond came back and sat down beside her with a sigh as he leaned his back against the wheel of the sled and propped his elbows on his folded knees.

“Everyone is giving me gears about my prices this morning,” he grumbled.  “When they get to the end of the market they’ll end up buying from the other guys even though my prices are lower, just because they don’t want to double back.”

Anna watched as he studied his own hands while he spoke.  They were large, his fingers thick and covered with callouses. Working-man’s hands.  She’d never seen hands like his up close.

“I’ve been there,” he offered quietly when Anna didn’t respond.  “I’ve been desperate and hungry.  It sucks.”  He finally turned and looked at her, eyes so kind that Anna wanted to cry again.  “I’m here every couple of days.  Next time just come and ask, I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Without another word he lumbered to his feet and walked around the side of the sled to peddle his ice. Anna waited a moment but he never came back.  She finally got up and took a brisk pace away from the market to a place she liked to sleep in a forgotten stable of a run-down Inn.  

When she had settled herself in the filthy corner of a horse stall, she looked down at the apple and carrots in her hands.  They might as well have been gold they were so valuable to her.  Still, she regretting taking them even after the stranger told her to help herself.

She might have pondered him further had she not been able to smell the apple in her lap.  She picked it up with a dirty hand and lifted it to her mouth, taking one last pause to appreciate it before she bit into the flesh.

It was so crisp!  So sweet!  Her eyes rolled back into her head and she let out a guttural moan at how good it tasted. She was in heaven, suddenly back in the palace, munching on an apple as she read a book by the window in the library.

No, not there.  She was cold and alone, her stomach cramping painfully as she ate.  She needed to slow down.  She’d had nothing but stale bread for so long that she needed to take it easy lest she throw up the first real food she’d had in weeks.  Despite her hunger she paused, taking time to consider the exchange with the man again.

She wouldn’t go back there. He was too kind.  It felt like a cheat to beg from him every time he was in the market.  She couldn’t rely on him to feed her.  No, she would find food elsewhere.  She needed to remember how to survive.

Yet his eyes had been knowing.  He admitted that he understood.  Did he offer this to every beggar that came to him?  Everyone whom he caught steeling?  If so, how would he have any food left for himself?  How could he afford it if he had a hard time selling ice?

Why did Anna care so much?

She knew why.  It was the way he looked into her eyes and didn’t sweep a disgusted gaze at her tattered clothes and filthy skin like everyone else.  It was the fact that she felt he was truly understanding.  Perhaps she should give herself a break and accept some help, even if it put the man at an inconvenience.

Anna nibbled on the end of a carrot as she thought about him.  She wasn’t sure how long she was caught up into her own mind when she realized that she had eaten the apple – almost the entire core itself – and the three tiny carrots she’d managed to grab.   She was still hungry.  She didn’t think she’d ever not be hungry anymore.  At least she was able to find sleep, pondering if she would see the ice man again.

*****

Anna staked out his spot in the market for six days, resigned to the fact that he probably wasn’t coming back, when he finally showed up on the seventh day.

During that time, she had begged and pleaded, having been given virtually nothing.  Eventually she had resorted to stealing scraps once more. Seeing him again had brought back her deep shame.

From the shadows she watched as he pulled some ice from his sled for a paying customer.  He moved the big blocks like they weighed nothing. Such endurance was incredible, even from a man of his size.  When he was finished the transaction, he reached into the bag on the side of the sled and fed a couple carrots to his reindeer as he patted the beast on the head with a faint smile.  

Anna suddenly turned away, unable to take advantage of his good nature.    On one hand she needed to survive and on the other she didn’t want to take from someone who seemed so good hearted.  The other merchants were often ruthless, even booting her in the shins to get her to go away.   Never before had she encountered someone like him.  Perhaps that was the reason she turned back and peered at him again from her hiding spot.

Her mind was a whirlwind of indecision.  She stared longingly at the man who would give her food, too ashamed to take it from him.

It wasn’t until he returned to the back of the sled to wait for a customer that he started glancing around. Anna suddenly realized he was looking for her.  Deep in the shadows she knew he wouldn’t spot her, until his eyes swept past her hiding spot and came back to lock onto her gaze.

No one had ever done that to her before.  His face remained stoic as he nodded ever so slightly, acknowledging her where she cowered, letting her know to come to him when she was ready.  It took her a time before she gathered her rampart thoughts.   Finally, she emerged into the sunshine and slowly approached his sled.

His back was to her, leaning against the back of the sled while he waited for a customer.  “Wasn’t sure if you’d come over,” he said quietly after letting her watch him for a moment.

“Still feel bad about last time,” she said even quieter, watching his back.  He remained stiff as she crept closer to where the food was. “I wasn’t sure if I could bring myself to take advantage of you again.”

He was quiet while Anna looked down into the leather sack. In addition to apples and carrots this time, there was a small paper-wrapped package of what Anna assumed was meat, two small rolls, and a muffin.  Her mouth started to salivate uncontrollably, yet she pushed her desperate hunger from her mind to ask the question she had been dying to ask.

“You were gone longer than a couple days,” she said almost at a whisper.  “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

He nodded, still looking out on the street.  “Ran into some trouble with the sled.  Had to fix a ski and it took me a while to chop the wood for it.”  His large shoulders shrugged.  “Didn’t think I’d be missed too much.”

Anna could hear the smile on his lips and the side of her mouth curled in response.   He glanced nonchalantly over his shoulder at her and she let him see her own smile.  It head been years since anyone had made her smile for real.

“Got a few extra things this time,” he said quietly, turning his focus away from her again.  “I have plenty more than I need.  Please help yourself.”

Anna gave the food a sideways glance.  She had to swallow again, thinking about actually eating a piece of meat.  She was indeed hungry, but she was also incredibly curious.  Something so deeply seated within her that even starvation couldn’t drive it away.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“The mountains,” he said slowly.

Anna thought his answer sounded careful.  “You have family?”

He nodded, still facing the street.  “I do.”

“A big family?”

“You could say that.”

Why did it sound like he was smiling again?  Anna took a tentative step closer to him, almost standing at his side but still far enough behind that he would have to turn his head if he was to look at her. “How long have you been harvesting ice?”

“Almost as long as I can remember.”

“As a child then?”

He nodded.

“Were your parents harvesters?”

She noticed him stiffen ever so slightly, immediately regretting prying into his life.  It wasn’t any of her business.  Why the hell was she even asking him questions anyway? He said she could take the food but it still felt like stealing anyway.  That’s all she really was.  A dirty thief.

Anna turned, red-faced, and grabbed a few of the items from the top of the sack.  She didn’t even look, she just needed to get out of there and never return.  

She ran, despite hearing him call for her to ‘Wait, come back!’ and something else she couldn’t quite make out.  She kept going until she was back at the dilapidated stables, tucked in her filthy horse stall, sobbing uncontrollably.  

She wished she’d never engaged him.  She should have just taken what he had offered and left.  How could she have been so stupid, trying to talk to him. The last thing she needed was to become invested in him.  What would happen when he stopped showing up at the market because he didn’t want to deal with her anymore?  That was surely the outcome, wasn’t it?  There was no way he wanted a beggar hanging around every time he was in town, asking annoying questions and taking what little she was sure he could afford himself…

Yet she could not get the kindness of his eyes out of her mind.  He had seemed so careful around her, like he was afraid of scaring her away…

Then she had ended up scaring herself away.

It took a while to compose her emotions.  When she finally did, she looked at the items in her lap.  She had grabbed one of the small paper packages, an apple, a roll, and a small wax covered roll of cheese.  Tears sprung in her eyes at the feast that she was almost too guilty to eat.

Almost.

She unwrapped the paper with shaky hands, bringing the meat to her lips and taking a tentative nibble.   The last time she had eaten a piece of meat was in the castle.  The taste flooded her senses, making her cough from the saltiness.  She could grab some water from the horse trough a half a block down the street but right now she needed to simply appreciate.

She cut the salt by taking small bites of the roll and the cheese with her meat, eating slowly and methodically, making sure not to give her stomach too much.  

About half way through she had to pause, giving her churning stomach a chance to catch up.  She took the opportunity to shuffle down the street to the trough and fill the filthy bucket she found in the old stables.   Careful not to lose any water, she went back to her nest and settled in.  She sipped the water through her dirty hands then resumed her feast.

The meat somehow tasted even better.  The cheese and the fresh roll were incomprehensibly delicious.  With a few bites left of each, she carefully wrapped them back in the paper for the morning and started on the apple for dessert.

While she was chewing slowly, she finally clued in that the big blond man had put that particular food near the top of the sack on purpose.  He had wanted her to have it.  He had wanted to give her some better food.  There was no way she could possibly know for sure, yet in her heart she felt it to be the truth.

Anna settled her frail body into the corner, trying to find sleep that would not come.   It was always hard to sleep.  This time wasn’t because of the cold or the hard ground. It was because she couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering about him, feeling a weird sort of desperation to see him again.

Surely, he would be gone when she woke, like the last time.  She would resume what she knew… try to stay alive.  Even with her hunger muted for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she would wake with a painfully empty stomach.  

Perhaps it was time to move on, time to spare the nice man from her dependence.  She could survive until she got to the next town.  She had done it before when she left Arendelle.

The past came back with a vengeance and her thoughts were consumed of nothing else until it was nearly dawn when she finally drifted off in a fitful sleep.  

[totallyrhettro]

The Lone Jedi, Chapter 3

Word Count: 2149 Rating: This chapter: G. Overall story: explicit Warnings: None Summary: Jedi Knight Rhett McLaughlin managed to escape the purge of the Emperor to become one of the last of his celibate order. After years of a solitary life, he finds himself with a former slave for a friend. Despite his efforts to maintain anonymity and the jedi code, he starts to realize that doing either is easier said than done. Notes: Star Wars AU; Events take place between episodes III and IV

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

*See the end of each chapter for additional notes on star wars terms*

Link POV

Link woke to an unfamiliar smell. It was bittersweet, with a soft undertone of citrus. It smelled wonderful and he found himself inhaling deeply before even opening his eyes. Then he remembered what had happened in the jungle. A rush of terror came over him and his eyes flew open as he started to sit up.

“Careful now,” said a voice. Seconds later Link realized that the advice was worth following. As he tried to sit up pain shot through his back and he stopped immediately. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.” Link turned towards the source of the voice. A very tall man with dirty blond hair was kneeling nearby. He wasn’t looking at Link, however. He was staring into a small pot set over a fire, stirring its contents slowly. It took the injured man a moment to recognize the stranger as the robed figure from the village. His long, brown robes were gone now, revealing light tan clothes and tall, dark boots. His face looked kind, but tired, with dark bags under his eyes. “Where am I?” Link asked, trying to stay in a somewhat lifted position. His body wanted to lie back down and sleep but his mind wanted answers. The stranger finally turned and faced him, but only for a moment. “We’re in the mountains. I thought you would be safe here while I tended to your wounds. You’re lucky to be alive, my friend.” He took a small, wooden cup and poured the pot’s contents into it. Then he carried it over and handed it to Link. “Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.” “What is it?” Link asked, taking it from him. “Herbal tea, My own recipe. It’s hot,” he added quickly, as Link went to take a sip. “Thank you.” He blew on the amber liquid before taking a cautionary taste. It was good. Unlike anything he’d ever had before. “You’re welcome. I’m Rhett, by the way. What’s your name?” “Link.” He gave a small smile, which the taller man returned before going back to the pot and putting out the fire. While Link slowly sipped his tea, he examined his new surroundings. It was a far cry from the luxurious rooms of the Hutt palace, but certainly much nicer than the cargo hold he was last in. Stone walls surrounded a large courtyard, many of which were crumbling, some merely lines in the grass. A granite pathway led from what was once an elegant archway, through the yard, all the way to a massive sloped building. The pathway was cracked with grass and weeds now poking through it everywhere.

Trees seemed littered about, some marked with stone rings while others grew randomly. They were small compared to the trees of the massive forest. Near the archway a huge statue of a person stood but it’s face had long been worn away by the elements and was unrecognizable as even man or woman. One of its arms was gone but the one that remained held aloft a sword of some kind. It looked familiar, like something out of legend, but Link couldn’t quite place it. Beyond that a road lead out of the yard, down and away, presumably down the mountain. As Link gazed out over where the road disappeared from view, he could see they were most definitely not in the woods any longer. Even from his low spot in the grass he could see the land fall away into nothing. Then, in the distance, he could just make out the green tops of the trees. “It’s so far away,” he noted aloud. He had never left the forest before. Though he had often seen the imposing might of the mountains, it was always from a great distance. He never dreamed he would ever be in them. “What is this place?” “My home,” Rhett answered, not looking up. “It’s nice and quiet here. I like the solitude.” “But these buildings…” Link started. Rhett looked at him now, his expression unreadable, and slightly waved his hand dismissively. “They’re not that interesting,” he stated. Link thought about that for a moment. A small part of him agreed, believing that these crumbling ruins were of no interest to anyone, but that just didn’t settle right with him. “But they are,” he insisted. Rhett raised one eyebrow, quizzically, looking slightly amused and impressed all at once. Link looked back at him, somewhat irked that this stranger was finding something about him funny. “What are they?” “You should rest now.” The tall man took his now empty pot in hand and stood up, stretching. “I’ll tell you about them another time.” Link started to argue, but Rhett continued and his voice seemed so kind. “I promise.” With a last, caring smile, he headed off into the mysterious building and was gone. Link very much wanted to get up and follow, if only to have his many questions answered, but he felt his energy was sapped just from that short conversation. Finishing off the delicious tea, he laid back down and let his eyelids fall closed. He drifted off to sleep listening to the chirping of songbirds and the gentle breeze blowing through the leaves above him.

~

He woke hours later, still alone. The sun was much lower in the sky; the leaves and branches of the tree above him no longer providing protection from its glaring rays. He blinked in the light before raising a hand to shield his eyes. It was his bandaged hand and it took him a second to realize that it didn’t hurt anymore. After a moment he decided to test his back by sitting up. His body moved slowly, still stiff, but the intense pain had subsided, replaced by a dull ache. He still felt a bit weak and quite light headed, but his curiosity was gnawing at him. After glancing around and not seeing his mysterious savior, Link stood up slowly. “Ah!” he exclaimed, as he got to his feet. Bandages matching the ones on his hand and torso that he hadn’t noticed before were wrapped around his feet. The weight of his body now bearing down on the soles of his feet sent spikes of pain through them and up his legs. He immediately leaned against the tree trunk to alleviate the pressure. After a few moments, the pain faded back to tolerable levels and he tired to walk on them again, this time being careful to walk as softly as possible. They still hurt, but he was determined to explore and learn more about this place and who this Rhett person was. He gingerly made his way towards the large building that he had seen the blond man enter, the only obvious entryway in sight. It was dark inside, with only a few small torches lining the walls, most of which were in much the same condition as the ones in the courtyard. Some, however were still intact. Intricately etched stone that once was brightly colored now faded to its original brown and grey. Sconces that held torches which had gone dead long ago were affixed on the walls and the few pillars that were left standing in a long hall. The left of the main hall had been fashioned into a stable with a messy straw bed beside a half-filled water trough. A leather saddle hung on a wooden hitching post made from a large tree branch, or possibly a small trunk. Link wondered where the kybuck this stable had obviously been made for was. He remembered seeing it earlier, but there was no sign of it now. The torches led him down the hall past various smaller doorways, each a plain archway leading into smaller rooms filled with various unmarked baskets and crates. He wondered what they contained, but past them all in favor of the far end of the building and the doorway which led back outside into what appeared to be a huge garden. Much of the garden was overgrown, covered with thick patches of plants he didn’t recognize, but one area, near the building he had just exited, was well groomed. The ground was tilled with care. Voluptuous fruits and vegetables grew among green vines and up wooden stakes placed just for them. A few potted plants were placed nearby as well, some on the ground while others were scattered on old wooden tables covered with dirt, plant parts and several gardening tools. A wide, cobblestone road ran between the garden and the building, and stretched off along the length of them both. It led left and right then turned around the corners of the wide open area. This inner courtyard was surrounded on all sides by tall buildings, very similar to the first; dark grey stone figures of varying heights and structural stability connected by a single brick wall that encompassed the entire complex. The sound of flowing waters brought Link’s attention away from his appraisal of the surroundings. He couldn’t see it, but he could hear it coming from ahead, beyond the gardens. Careful not to step on the tended plants, he walked across the soft earth and through a small opening in the overgrowth. On the other side of a tall, ivy-covered wooden fence that no longer kept out anything, was a smaller, enclosed area and a massive fountain. It was over four feet across and twice that tall, an off-white rectangular obelisk towering over the surrounding brush. Clear waters poured from a slit near its top and fell into a small pool at its base. In front of it, sitting on a curved bench made from matching materials, was the bearded figure, Rhett. He was facing away from Link, hunched over, completely ignoring the world around him. As the brunet approached, the other man turned around to look, and Link could see tan cloth in his hands. They were the same color as the clothes he was wearing. “You shouldn’t be wandering about,” the man said. “You could hurt yourself. Most of these ruins aren’t safe.” He placed the cloth on the bench beside him, a needle and thread on top, before standing to greet his visitor. “What are you doing?” “I uh, I was hemming some pants.” His tanned face blushed slightly. “The sun can be brutal in the daytime, but it gets fairly cold up here in the mountains at night.” Link walked over to the bench and examined the cloth more closely. They were pants, identical to the ones Rhett was currently wearing, but a line of neat stitching marked where they had been shortened. “You’re not exactly dressed for cold weather.” Link glanced down at his attire. A thick, gold-plated belt held up a gauzy maroon loincloth that hung down to his knees. His chest, normally bare to the elements, was covered in white bandages, but that too was not made to keep him warm. “Thank you,” he said, softly. It’s not that he had never been given things. He practically wanted for nothing when he was a servant of the Hutt, but this was different. No one had ever given him something without him asking, just because they wanted to. No one had ever given him a gift before. “I was hoping to have them done before you woke up.” Rhett couldn’t seem to look directly at Link, much to the confusion of the shorter man. People were always staring at him, they never stopped looking. It was hard to understand this stranger from the mountains. “I never thanked you… earlier. For saving me from that… thing… in the woods. You saved my life.” “You’re very welcome.” There was an awkward pause as Link struggled with finding a way to express the many questions that were running rampant in his head, unsure where to begin. He was confused about why he was having such difficulties just talking to this tall stranger. He never had problems speaking to anyone, even his masters. He always knew where he stood with them. “Are you hungry?” Rhett asked, suddenly. Link hadn’t thought about it, but the question made his stomach rumble, as if answering for him. “Starving. I guess I can’t remember when I last ate.” Even the meager travel rations they gave Link and the other slaves couldn’t have truly been considered food. They were just nutritious enough to keep the cargo alive.

"If you like, I can make some grebnar stew. It’s getting close to supper time.” “Yes, thank you.” Link didn’t know what else to say. People didn’t usually ask his opinion on anything. Rhett smiled at his response though, and he couldn’t help but smile back. There was something so kind in that bearded face, gentle and caring. He was like no one he had ever even heard of and he felt drawn to him. That sensation, too, was a first.

Next Chapter

Additional Notes:

Kybuck:  an animal originally from Kashyyyk. They look very much like the Tauntauns found on Hoth, if you crossed one with a horse.

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