#ive seen some of this crap with my own eyes

[kirosnleo]

Pulled through time Leo and Oc fic part 2

lemme know any suggestion or things you wanna see maybe some art prompts of them

‘I'm going crazy’ I've been in the museum for hours waiting sitting on a stone bench ive been reading the description over and over but the only woman with a bronze complexion with a muscular build is the statue in front of me 

Hephnes, Architects believe this statue to be a tribute to a ancient greece princess or famous hero, whatever she was it is likely she had a prominent impact on society at the time as most statues were dedicated to gods and bronze was a precious metal at the time and making a statue of a non holy figure would be seen as a waste. The statue may have also been the inspiration or come from the myth of Pygmalion, a myth about a man who marries a statue he made, learn more about him in our Greek mythology tour suitable for ages 7-16.

I've read that damn plaque a million times till I was sure I read all the words correctly and could repeat it in my head, eyes closed and all.’"Screw it "I huffed, she could pick up her own damn necklace. I placed it on the poorly guarded statue.

I was nearly knocked down when i saw a flash causing the few guests to stare at me the mist probably made me look like a fool that lost balance out of nowhere. Great, some of the guests were even cute. I couldn't talk for long as I felt what seemed to be about a thousand pounds quickly pin me to the wall causing a dent even.

“Who are you and what have ye done, did Hera send you was my punishment not cruel enough to satisfy the petty goddess” crap everyone’s staring at us, and the damn wall probably costs however much a billion dollars is in pounds, “I I have been sent by her to summon you..for a trial!” surely her mentioning Hera in her first sentence after reversing from bronze, that's probably got her to let go of my shoulders.

I fell with a thud as she dropped me. I slammed my body through the window and jumped out. They really reinforced the windows and I'd probably be covered in bruises tomorrow. I was right though she followed me and I heard a thud I could swear the ground shook. I had to get out of the public eye and probably somewhere to distract her from killing me.

I was running for what felt like hours. Luckily a living statue golem thing was pretty slow but I finally collapsed in a field. I could only stare as this woman glared down at me, her fury felt like daggers. This was not the demigod i pictured i don't even know if she was a demigod.

“You Trickster i've seen maenads less foolish than you!” I saw a bronze foot reach up to stomp my head into the ground when I yowled “Our dad sent me the necklace was a gift from him!”. I could feel tears run down my eyes as she looked at me stumped as her face burrowed we both had, explaining to do.

[turvuren]

cAN I CAN I CANICANICANIIIII

CAN I ASK YOU TO WRITE SOMETHING #WHUMP ABOUT MOON!PHOSPHOPHYLLITE/LITTLE VERS!PHOSPHOPHYLLITE????

and at the same time I’ll share my thoughts on this topic, like, you can ignore them but I just wanted to share so yeah

Maybe Moon / Phos M/F uhoh

I think Phos barely knows Moon...Like, she saw him a couple of times but that was all🤔

Moon is damn tall. Imean...5'8-5'9"??????? And Phos, on the contrary, is a rather short huh, small cute and fragile >:з

I think they would have a small age difference, about a year..

In general, that's all I would like to say, lol, bro. You don’t have to include thoughts in general in the post if you do write something, but it would be great if they were in the post :0

lol i usually write rutile centric stuff 😭😭 I'm pretty indifferent towards phos but I'll try OK SO ive had this idea for a while... sibling phoses. i couldnt think of a way to write them with diff names without it sounding corny in eng, i liked genki phos anyways. like imagine his literal name being winter or moon... or by god, joy. lol

name should be self explanatory. genki - happy, so its the og phos. tsuki - winter. winter phos. tsuki - moon. thats it

cw incest sorry not sorry.

"What the hell is that fucker's problem?..." "What?" Phos shakes her head, gesturing at the man with the weird bucket hair and that weird prosthetic eye. Because no way in hell there's anyone with a natural white iris, right? And heterochromia doesn't work that way. Never does. Her roommate, some weird girl Phos doesn't even bother remembering the name of, just shrugs. "That's just how he usually acts. I think he's a third year." "Still a goddamn weirdo." Phos is messing with the vending machine when he comes across her again, and she just about screams in shock - until she gets a nice, long look at that stupid face. "...brother..?" "Hiya. Long time no see?"

There are 3 Phos's - at least in this small little town. The youngest, Genki, the middle child, Fuyuki, and the eldest half brother to Genki and Fuyuki - Tsuki.

See, Tsuki was a little bit of a brat. And a troublemaker. Genki had never met him, only told stories of him - don't ever turn out like your brother, yadayada, he had been a little bit more than just a handful after - "You're a murderer," Genki says, getting a bit scared now. "How...? Aren't you supposed to be in prison?" Tsuki laughs. "Parole, kid. Anyways, never really seen you in person. What's your name again...? Gen...?" "Genki. You're..." "Tsuki. Your beloved big brother-" "Hell no!" Genki backs away. "Look. Get the hell away from me. I've seen you, watching me these past few... everything! What do you want?" Tsuki laughs again, grating, grating sound against her ears. "What? Can't even look at my own little sister?" "Absolutely not. Go fuck yourself." "What? We just met and you're telling me off?" Genki shakes her head. "You're a damn criminal. I will NOT associate myself with the likes of you - now if you'll excuse me, I have CLASS-" He grabs her by the shoulder and presses his lips against hers. For a moment, Genki is a stunned, unable to react, but as her thoughts return she pushes him away. "What the fuck-?" "I'll make this quick," Tsuki cuts her off. "I'm single. Lonely. You don't wanna see your big brother-" "Cut it out with that big brother crap! You're not my brother, I only have one, and that's-" "Fuyuki? Oh, he's much more pliant compared to you, isn't he? But that's what makes me... endear you. You're so much more feisty, more personality." "I-" "Back to the point. Nobody likes me around here." "And what makes you think I do?!" "Well? We're family. You share my blood. My dirty, murderer blood." "That's not true. We're not even-" "Fully related? That's true. I guess you're only half murderer." "Cut it out!" "No." Genki grits her teeth. What an infuriating bastard. Not even anyone else comes close to this level of... of... "Look, Gen," Tsuki sighs. "I just want someone to spend time with little ol me. Don't you pity me?" Genki narrows her eyes. Maybe... maybe. He's... kind of making her feel bad. "Fine. What do you want?" Oh, but how wrong a decision that is.

Genki buries her face in her hands as Tsuki pulls away, cigarette smoke filling the hotel room. Bite marks over her exposed shoulders where the covers can't hide her shame. "Well? That wasn't so bad, was it?" Dirty. So dirty. This murderer ... and her. "You did a great job there, sis. Don't mope about it. Poison isn't so bad. At least he died quickly. Painlessly." "Painlessly? Really?" They're not so different, are they?

[veryrealimagination]

Day No: 23

Prompt: Tied to a table

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: fic

Trigger Warnings:

SFW

James woke up with a crippling headache, not unlike the one he received after Patty’s first attempts at ‘shine. However, the last time he ended up in the bed of… well, it was an embarrassing conversation when he woke up and he didn’t want to think about that right now. Nope, not gonna think about that.

This wasn’t as nice, as it was hard, metal and cold. Finally making his eyes open, he saw that he was on a medical table. Different than the ones he remembered from the clinic and the two hospitals he’s visited in his travels. The ones he stayed in didn’t have straps that tied the patient to it. It was not only his wrists and ankles wrapped, there were also straps over his legs and chest to completely keep him down on the table. At least he could lift his head.

Then a hand landed on his neck and pushed it back down without releasing him.

The face that appeared above made him instantly angry. “Gillies,” he growled, remember the last time when he had been in Portia. He promised the man would end up in the Corp jail cell unconscious. He should have specified that it should be Gillies the one unconscious.

“Pennie, Pennie, Pendrick,” he chanted, darkly grinning down at his victim. “Like the new place? I never knew that all the Ruins were connected. Found a wonderful set of offices and science labs to play in.”

Science labs? No… He’s still… “Aggressive Mr. Ladybugs and Snaililobs. The Jump Dancers that were altered with higher toxins in their bites,” he said, pulling it together, “Your favorite calling card.”

He let go of his neck, but he still had that unnerving grin. “I have been learning so much from a series of scientists from Vega Five, only held back by pesky morals and fear of consequences from the Alliance and the Church,” he story-told, walking over to a Worktable crossed with a Lab one. James was getting mildly anxious over the way Gillies was acting. He didn’t let go to just give a standard villain speech. That got him the last time. Julia knocked him out.

“I have never heard any of them complain over the restrictions put in place,” he argued, “They always considered it a challenge to work within them.”

“Yes, well, I found those ones boring.” He was messing with a series of flasks and bottles, carefully reading his own handwriting. “I wonder what it would be like to ask some Duvos scientists what they thought.”

“We can always ship you off so you can ask them yourself. In fact, if you hadn’t escaped the first time, you could have more time over there.”

Apparently, he found the one he wanted. The cork was uncapped and a syringe was being dipped in. Whatever it was had a clear look, perhaps a little darker than normal. “Hmmm, I’ve seen some of the places from across the border. All smoke and gray. The humans so dull.” He tapped out the air and walked back over to James. “I can’t imagine what they would think about someone like me.”

It was then that James Pendrick noticed that he had been outfitted with an IV drip, and Gillies was about to inject that needle into it. “I will rip that out,” he warned.

Gillies sighed, “You’re going to make this annoying. It could have been quiet, just describe your symptoms and pains.” He moved over to another medical table. One that had someone strapped to it as well. Oh, Light, no. Undoing the chest one, he pulled the other person up.

James swore his heart skipped when he saw Llewellyn. “No!” he yelled.

The needle was positioned and pushed into the skin of his throat, earning a wince, but no sound. “Now, Pennie, I can give little Llewellyn here a concentrated version of my little project. Might kill him, render him catatonic-”

Whatever the rest of his threat was, an intruder alarm cut him off.

Oh, thank Light. I hate listening to that sort of crap. Gillies had threatened at least two of his dates like that. And William and Julia. The idiot let go to check a large array of screens, leaving his intended victims unintended. Llewellyn carefully watched him as he wiggled something out of one of his pockets. A glimmer showed it to be a small knife, one of the ones they gave for good inspections. He flipped it so it was against one of the wrist straps and started sawing.

“Oh, I forgot to give William enough credit again. He was always faster at solving things when you were involved. Although this was even fast for him.” He turned around and Llewellyn stopped his movements. “Maybe I forgot to calculate Llewellyn over here.” He quickly had to hide the knife as Gillies undid the straps and pulled him off the table, using a pistol to keep him from fighting back while he pulled him away. “Experiment time!”

[solardick]

Hurry up and syart ww3 already. Instead of sissy slapping each other. Sanction this and sanction that. You think Iran goves a shit?

I want to watch a missile fly over canada and hit my apartment building.

We’re all peace and love bitch. But we’ll sanction youninto a suicidal depression if we font likebyou.

It’ll be just endless years going back and forwards as far as the eye can see. Nervous tension. In a system at the core and perimeter of existence.

Nervous system. Get it?

Stupid fucken pills dont even work.

Wow that demon that leapt in with my mother sure did fuck that family up. That added to the….. i hate my fathers family. They’re just i dont know off. Don’t know much at all about family. Not at all. Indont know any of them. My little brother some. There was some good bonding there. Litle sis too. But she only comes accompanied by a parent. The story goes

Like this. The cast away from the mother and the tragic death of a brother. Both narative drive together and merge into the offspring. Its collective karma. The chosen one, will bare all the weight of all their bs. Two naratives that flow togwther tangle together and create together something from them. This is not to be primarly thought of as genes. Or dna or whatever all that crap is. Its more of being beyond the physical. Maybe meta maybe no. No where near all that.

And the story goes quite literaaly as the cast away whi dies tragically. The fool from the father the arroganve from the mother.

And has nothing to do with me. I want it to go away. But. Sadly. Trajjixally as it is. Brushed off the shoulder cuz ya too much a pussy to own it.

Welcome to life mother fucker.

No one cares. No one knows you. And neither are you spart of the decisions for your life. Thats fantastic. The entire reality from birth on. What am i suposed to do with all of it. I can see all the “building” from media. How ot all flows together to mind control. Or more as in a means of a path from given asdociates that later play into life experiences. And then one has fate” wispering in your ear.

Four sibblings. Middle child. The dot in the center of five. The dot in the center is chaos. A dark reverberating orb. And is a phase. The cutting of. That which is past and future. Finally a girl!

Tarot card five is the pope. Two and two? One white priestess one black priestess. Or perhaps better termed the Hall. To russian its the tower.

Dont beleive ehat i say, o got that lying disease thing. Got a do it.

The chances of finding someone to share life with has gone down to about 5%.

🎶Im gonna be dead, im not surviving. Im gonna be dead. Im not…🎶

At least im not shitting mucous anymore. Still. My sanity is draining. Focus and attention. Gone. This keeps up. Im gonna need assisted living.

Lets see if i survive to my next birthday. Not even depression season yet.

Intellectual motivation gone. Esoteric motivation gone. External acheivemtnet motivarion gone. I wanted someone to do it with me. A fair delicate touch. The voice of command to subtlety. Becaus eif i do it. If i try to do it. Its not going to pan out. 30 years have taught me that. Locked out of life. Then i tried. And i got raped. So. I dont know if i want to try anymore.

Scorpio is nothing but criminal and bs. Iam a lesser person anyway. How ive always been treated. The quip sense of elation to superiority. Scorpio. Or simply hilding a power of someones soul. Gives a sense of grandeur. So ive seen.

Ive seen that expression often enough that theres an extended sense for it.

I dont know people. There zero life there. So much “energy” rippling through the consciousness. Not something i know. A functional relationship. Never had one really. Here and there perhaps. Ow everyone knows me for who there are. All holding inside information. Nothing is direct. Its too dangerous. You go for direct and they shot you down. They may attack you. Put themselves over me. Domination. Someone always has some heavy leaning of power when it comes to my person. Always. This is no different just a grandeur scale of what always was. They think the hold that power and they trip on it. But they don’t. Just pons.

Pons are maniacs. They kill or they sacrifice. Or they cockblock the king.

I used to go

Buy a dvd once teice a week and the guy in the store started stalking me. Shadowing me trying to seize an opportunity to exort his will over mine.

Some gay guy also started bashing me in. Because i didnt want him to blow me.

Wearing an hawieen shirt, i dont know how to spell it, and some fag basher started giving me a hard time by exerting his influence.

I can go on at length.

Playing hide and seek as a kid. Brother found me. But he prettended he didn’t. And he kept walking by. Did that a few times.

Ok ill stop……

Ive soemt everyday for most of my life fearing for my life. Now theyr trying to rob the rest of my life with more perversion. Ill mever know whatbits loke to be a person.

Well as weary as i am about the bible’s goal of passifying and subordinating mankind.

And it seems the only life i get to have is one of secrecy. Have to prevtend like i dont exist. Kept the evil at bay. And do nothing or ill be attacked for no reason. 40 years on the reveiving end of people eill to

Dominate. So i cant be a man. Because thats part and parcel of being one. Apparently. I dont know. Ive never been human. A reason why i have cock written on my forehead. Cuz thats all that matters. Thats all people

See of me. Eat the rooster. Call the sunrise. Bring a new day into the world. Apparently not. My day. They just seem to be sucking the brains out of my head. Makes me more malleable. Im not even allowed to learn how humans are like. Its just solitude and watrangement. Caus they all evil. And the good is juat absent.

But, i question somethign else. How does it work? Its like inhad the system. Whatever that is. Speaking through me to me. Prophetic intimate knowledge. As i walk through the valley and am touched by providence.

Providence is a word ive really ever used. Though it should have over the last several years. I can see how someone would say “its your higher self” whatever that means. But what about the providence. You cannot understand the pressence of an entity. Presence fits better. And then past that there a whole world pretending yo be it. And your like….. nothing.

[nickyhemmick]

Hi, be careful what information you post on the conflict as it’s not as one sided as you’re making it out to be. Israel is being attacked as well. I’m not saying everything Israel is doing is correct, by no means is that true. But innocent people are getting hurt on both sides and that’s not okay. A lot of the posts I’ve seen have just been thinly valid antisemitism, so be careful the ones you reblog as well. You can be anti Israel without being vitriolic to the innocent people who live there. Palestine is not as innocent as everyone claims they are, but they don’t deserve to be kicked out of there homes either. Israel is complicated but innocents don’t deserve to be killed either. A lot of people post about Palestine blindly, I just encourage you to look into both sides a bit more and not make it out to be a situation with one right answer. If it was then this problem would have been solved a long time ago.

~ A Very Stressed American Jew

blah blah blah both sides blah blah blah Palestine isn’t innocent blah blah.

For the stuff about anti-semitism: yeah I agree. People can be posting things that are anti Semitic while pretending to be anti-Israel. I’ve reblogged stuff abt that fact, too. And I always try to make sure what I’m reblogging is talking abt Israel’s cruelty and doesn’t mention anything anti-Semitic. If you see something that I’ve reblogged and you feel it’s anti-Semitic, then let me know.

Second of all: the only 2 sides there are is the oppressor and the oppressed. Palestinians are the fucking oppressed, and I say this as a Palestinian (and an American!) If you want to see how “complicated” this problem is then go onto Twitter and watch the videos Palestinians are sharing and THEN tell me we aren’t innocent. Like bro, throwing rocks or rockets in SELF DEFENSE is 1000000% justified and something I will always defend. Don’t go to Israeli media (which, anyway, doesn’t mind showing you the gang beat-ups of Palestinians lol)

Also, while you are saying there are Israeli citizens that are innocent (which yes, 100% true) you seem to ignore the Israeli citizens out in the streets calling for lynching of Palestinians, entering homes to kill fathers in front of their children, raping the women, forcing themselves into Palestinian homes, and calling for the death of all Arabs, all with the help of the IDF and police. Don’t fucking tell me the citizens are all innocent, many of them are part of this and have been for generations. They are just as complicit as their government in this. I don’t care if they were brainwashed into all the hate they feel, they still are out there adding more fire to the problems. (And NO, I am not referring to IDF soldiers who are forced into duty in this).

The US has brainwashed you into thinking that Palestinians are horrible, that there are two equal sides, that it is a very complicated mind-boggling situation that can’t be solved! That’s all false. I implore you to look at Palestinan sources, both videos, pictures and websites like decolonizepalestine dot com. You already have some awareness of the reality from your ask, but you telling me there’s “both sides” is telling me you have some more work to do. This has been a 73 year old war. Simple. Israel, when attacked, has the Iron Dome, their citizens have bomb shelters, they have a million other protections Palestinians don’t. Palestinians, when attacked, have none of that. They suffer. They die. They get raped. We always pay the larger cost in whatever rocket fire is expelled. Netanyahu said he will bomb Gaza until there is silence. Yeah, that totally sounds like a complicated situation!

No. That simply won’t do. And if you do want to do your readings, do not read Zionist powered publications like the New York Times and the New York post and the like. I repeat that I agree that there is a lot of anti-Semitism in anti-Israel posts, but none of my posts have reflected that, and if they have let me know and I will take them down. This isn’t a religious matter and I understand that, there are Palestinian Jewish ppl as well! They are also suffering under this racist colonial rule

But Palestinians are innocent. We are. We one MILLION percent are. Just because we are fighting back after generations of colonialism, abuse, murder and rape doesn’t make us any less innocent. It makes us fucking fighters for our rights, because a lot of people don’t give a fuck about us and haven’t for 7 decades. Don’t forget that Israel is the instigator of the violence, all the way from 1948. Israel is being attacked because we’re fed up, and it’s not like we’re making much damage anyway, so don’t try to make it out to be that there are both sides that are equal here. Because that isn’t true.

[idy-ll-ique]

dreams, memories

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut (soulmate AU)

warnings: smut, talks about bucky's past as the winter soldier

requested: nope

word count: ~2.6k

summary: bucky and y/n are soulmates. this is how they meet.

author's note: hiya peeps! sorry for the big break, enjoy! editing this real quick: i JUST saw doctor strange, like i came back from the theatre 20 mins ago, and ive had this fic written since 2 days. the dreams and memories thing... i had no idea 😂😂 what a wonderful coincidence!

masterlist

---

"No!" Y/N screamed, waking up in cold sweat. She breathed heavily, looking down at her left arm, touching every part of it to make sure she was okay. Then she ran her palms over her face. "This is fucking ridiculous," she muttered and got up from her bed. "Not again…" Her bed was covered in sweat. Turning on the air conditioner in her room to dry up her bed and also make it a little cool, Y/N left her room to make herself some late-night coffee.

The dreams she had every night were horrible. It was always from the point of view of a particular man; everyday, he was strapped to a chair and people, usually in white lab coats that made her think they were doctors, did disgusting and inhumane things to him. The screams of the man echoed in her head, mixed with her own screams. She was yet to know who the man was; the only thing she knew about him was the fact that he was her soulmate.

Example, person A and person B were soulmates. The way it worked was that person A's memories would serve as dreams for person B and vice versa. So who was this man, who had such painful and abhorrent memories? She wondered if that person had dreams of her memories as well. Maybe he'd seen the time she had, once a long time ago, embarrassed herself on stage at a school function. Or the time she had thrown a party for her friends after getting first rank in an exam.

She had memories good and bad, as all people do, but her soulmate… it seemed as though he had been through more bad things than good. Sometimes, she saw memories of a science exhibition— specifically a flying car— but the exhibition seemed to have happened in a time so far back that it felt weird. Maybe it was a themed exhibition? Then other times, her dreams consisted of war; specifically, World War 2. She saw guns and explosives mostly used in that particular battle, and after confirming a few things from the internet…

Was her soulmate an old man?

If he had fought in the second World War, he must've been born in the early 1900s, and that would make him… above hundred?! Y/N choked on her coffee at the realisation and coughed, wiping her face. "My soulmate's a hundred year old man?! What the fuck!" She hurriedly finished her coffee, kept the mug away and went back to her room, falling into a peaceful slumber. 

---

"Morning, Barnes."

Bucky nodded his head in greeting, making a beeline for the coffee machine. He'd woken up only 15 minutes ago. "How did you sleep, what kinda dream did you have?" Bucky looked at Steve, who was seated next to Sam. "A college lecture. The professor told a funny story and she laughed. Her laugh's kinda cute." Steve grinned. "That's fucking amazing! Only if there was some way we could find out who this lady of yours is…" Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes, bringing the cup to his lips.

"She's not mine yet, Steve, calm down."

"What do you think about the dreams she must be having?" Sam quietly asked and Bucky's head shot up. Of course, that thought hadn't occurred to him at all! How horrifying were her dreams?! Was she getting proper sleep?! What if her dreams— his memories— kept her awake all night and scared the living crap out of her? "Fucking shit," he cursed, "Fuck, fuck, fuck— if only we can find each other—" Steve got up to calm his best friend but Bucky kept his coffee-filled mug down, turning to the door. "I need a walk."

He left the communal area and walked out of the Avengers Compound, running his fingers over his head. He'd never, ever even thought about what she must've been going through because of him; how thoughtless of him!

He still remembered the first night he'd had a dream. Back in the 40's, he never dreamt, because of course, unbeknownst to him, Y/N wasn't born yet. Years passed. HYDRA captured him and while in captivity, he had his first dream. It was an odd dream; the point of view was such that he realised his soulmate at the time… was a baby. Bucky tried not to think about it much. At least he was having dreams, and about such sweet things, too, a complete contrast to the situation he was in.

The dreams kept him going. He saw glimpses of humanity in those dreams of his, and the thought that the world outside was mostly a beautiful place, it helped immensely. Once more, years passed by like a breeze. His soulmate grew older; a teenager, a college student and soon, a working adult. By the time she became a working adult, Bucky had successfully joined the Avengers, no longer a part of HYDRA. 

As he walked around aimlessly, his mind drifted in the opposite direction. While he had those lovely, humane dreams, what must his soulmate have gone through? From her birth, all that she must've seen were scenes of torture, him killing people in his mindless state, him forced to be in a confined room with no human contact other than the doctors and HYDRA workers… to have to see all that since a young age seemed a nightmare. 

He couldn't believe he had put his poor soulmate through all that. Then, another thought occurred:

What if she rejected him for all he made her go through?

Over the years, Bucky lost a lot. He gained a few things along the way too, no doubt, but he lost more than he gained. His early days were spent looking after his sister and Steve, then as a young adult, he was forced into war, and after that… well, HYDRA. Now he had a stable enough life; sure, he risked his life every now and then but hey, things were going pretty good as of late. All he wanted was to meet his soulmate, the woman destined to be with him, but things seemed difficult.

First off, he didn't have a clue as to what her identity was. Sure he saw hints in his dreams, he noted them all down as well, but he could not pinpoint the woman. One time he found out she worked in retail, but which store? Which branch? No idea. Shaking his head, Bucky looked around. He saw a Starbucks nearby; remembering the fact that he hadn't had his morning cup of coffee yet, he decided to get some.

Bucky entered the place, observing it as he walked up to the barista. After placing his order, he went to find an empty seat and finally sat at the table behind a lady who was talking on the phone. He kept quiet, unknowingly listening in on her conversation. “Yeah, I know, I just remembered this one time in class, remember how the professor told us that story about his kid?”

Bucky paused at that. “I know, the poor dude had to pay for messing with our professor! That story is seriously so funny, oh my God—” He abruptly stood up, his eyes wide. His dream that day, the professor in his dream, the story, her laugh— holy shit. It was her! Bucky turned and walked to her table, making her look up. Her eyebrows shot up in recognition. “Hey Jeannette, I’ll call you back,” she whispered and ended the call. “Mr Barnes, what can I do for you?”

“You, uh—” he stammered, “The story you were telling your friend right now— may I ask you something personal, miss?” the lady gestured to the empty seat in front of her and Bucky sat, running his fingers through his hair. “This one time in high school, you came first in a class test, a Geography test if I remember correctly— did you or did you not throw a party for your friends?” 

The lady gasped. “I did! How do you know that?”

“And in elementary school, you were the host for a school function and completely butchered your lines.” Bucky watched as the lady covered her mouth. “H-How… unless…” He nodded. “Dreams. I had dreams, and I’m guessing you had those too.” So the horrid, unpleasant, godawful vile dreams… were his memories. She should’ve at least guessed. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, “I’m so sorry you had to suffer so much, I—”

“What are you apologising for?! It’s not your fault I went through all that, all the more, I should be sorry for giving you those terrifying dreams! Man, I feel awful…” To his surprise, the lady reached out and touched his arm. “It isn’t your fault you went through all that, either. At least the dreams will stop now, now that I’ve met you.” Bucky hoped that was the case. He clicked his tongue.

“Ah! Uh, what’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

He gave her a small smile just as his name was called by the barista. “Join me,” she whispered to him and he agreed, getting up to get his coffee. For the first 2 minutes, there was complete silence between the two as each finished their own drink. “So the exhibition wasn’t themed after all, it actually took place back in the day,” she jabbered and Bucky met her eyes. “You saw the Stark Expo in your dream? With Howard’s flying car?” Y/N gasped. “Howard? So it was actually Howard Stark’s Stark Expo? That’s cool!” Bucky heaved a sigh of relief. “At least you had good dreams, too…”

“Plenty of ‘em! In a lot of those I saw this blond, skinny kid— that was Captain America, right? I’ve heard that you two are childhood besties.” Bucky chuckled. “We are, as you referred to us, childhood besties. Steve had asthma growing up, wasn’t even allowed to join the military but he never gave up, even illegally trying to get in. Swear to God, I’ve kept him outta trouble so many times—” Y/N laughed at his words.

“Why does that actually sound like something Captain America would do? Hey Mr Barnes, I also kinda wanna know: you had a sister, didn’t you?” He smiled at the fond memory. “Rebecca, my younger sister. Well, she kinda passed away a few years ago of old age, but—” Y/N smiled a bit too. “I’m sorry for your loss.” He waved in dismissal. “She lived a good life. Got married to a good guy, had kids, many grandkids…”

“Do you know any of them?”

“Not yet, no.”

Soon, they finished their coffee. “I gotta go to work now, how about we meet later?” Y/N packed up her things, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “Of course, Ms Y/L/N.” They exchanged numbers and she waved at him as she walked out the front door. Bucky watched her go from the window; he’d finally met her. He wasn’t expecting her to be someone so kind, who didn’t blame him for all the dreams she had been having. On top of that, she was beautiful, too.

A kind soul, and kind looks. He couldn’t wait to meet her again.

---

“Stop moving.” Bucky froze when he heard his girlfriend next to him. “Baby, I thought you were asleep,” he murmured, turning to face her only to see her already looking at him. She reached out, running her fingers over his head. “What’s keeping you up? It’s— 1:30 am, love,” Y/N yawned. Bucky wrapped an arm around her, tugging her closer. He’d wanted to do that in the first place, but seeing as she was asleep, he didn’t want to disturb her.

“Had a bad dream, woke up. I’m sorry.” She chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “When was the last time? I think 4 months ago, right? New record. Like a thunderstorm, if the time between your bad dreams is getting longer, that means they’re going away.” Bucky smiled at that as well. “Nice comparison, doll. I think they are, all because I found you.”

She scoffed at that. “I can’t take all the credit, Bucky, you’ve been diligently and regularly going to therapy, that is helping a lot.” He clicked his tongue and gave her a smooch on the lips. “That’s helped, for sure, but you’ve helped more. I look at you… and know it’s going to be alright. I hold you every night, and I know you’re safe— I’m safe— and I don’t think bad thoughts.”

She smiled lazily and burrowed closer to him. “8 months of this sap, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Bucky stuttered indignantly as Y/N closed her eyes. “You little shit— I thought I was being cute!” Y/N burst out laughing. “It was cute, but it was also sappy. Now goodnight, Bonky, I gotta sleep.” He muttered under his breath, “Stop calling me that.”

Then cheekily, his hand trailed down her waist, all the way to her— “Bucky! Now?” Y/N squeaked as his finger flicked her clit. “I’m not sleepy yet, plus look, you’re so wet…” Y/N moaned a little as his metal fingers ran up and down her folds, their coolness being a contrast to her warm cunt. He pushed two digits in, hissing in pleasure. “So warm, feel so good…” he uttered as Y/N twitched next to him, desperately trying to hold herself back. A few minutes passed.

“I know you wanna cum, my love, with the way your fucking cunt is clenching around my fingers so I suggest you do so immediately, I don’t wanna repeat myself,” Bucky spoke cockily. Y/N obeyed and let go, coming all over his fingers as he slowly made her ride her high. “Bucky,” Y/N whimpered when he brought his digits to his mouth for a taste. “Take off your shorts,” he rasped and she did, while Bucky also tugged his off.

Then he climbed on top of her, the blankets still over them, and slid home in one fluid motion. Both of them moaned at the sensation; it had been 8 months but Y/N felt like she was never going to get adjusted to his size. “Fuck, Y/N, my pretty baby,” Bucky groaned, leaning in to press his lips to her forehead. Somehow he simply stayed there; his hips rolled over hers lazily, both of them being tired in the middle of the night.

Even Y/N didn’t say anything; she felt like she was in heaven, and after one more orgasm, she’d definitely fall asleep in an instant. And that was exactly what happened; Bucky’s lips left her forehead and he buried his face in her shoulder, biting down to muffle his sounds of pleasure. “I’m so close, darling.” She hummed along. They let go at the same time; Bucky pulled out of her, stroking himself a couple times before spilling his release over her thigh.

Y/N’s legs shook as she came for a second time. Bucky then threw the blankets off of them, and got up to bring a towel to clean both him and Y/N up. But by the time he returned with the towel, Y/N had already fallen asleep, even snoring a bit. He laughed a little at that. Bucky sat next to her and gently cleaned her up, pulling down her t-shirt that had ridden up.

It was his tank top to begin with, that she’d stolen because it was “way more comfortable than any she owned” but he loved it when she stole his clothes, so he only pretended to be annoyed. Putting on his shorts again, Bucky lay next to her and wrapped her in his arms, kissing her bare shoulder. “Sweet dreams, doll.”

---

a/n: thanks for reading! leave a like if you enjoyed! also side note— sebastian stan looked amazing at the met gala lmao

[satans-left-asscheeky]

Companions react to Sole using a lash curler and riping out all of their eye lashes

unfortunately I had the misfortune of this happening to me in middle school... Thankfully most of them grew back but I'm still short a few lashes from the experience.

Maccready

"WHAT THE HELL! Why would anyone do that!? OH MY GOD YOU RIPPED ALL OF THEM OUT!?! HOLY SHI- CRAP!"

He'd run around panicking not at all helping the situation at hand. Call it psychosomatic but Mac will swear he could feel the pain as he watched them rip out their own lashes.

Hancock

"Uh Sunshine?..... Im guessing you didn't do that on purpose.... right?"

He knew pre-war they did some weird shit to themselves I'm the name of beauty, but ripping out your own eyelashes? Hell no. Once he realized they definitely did not do it on purpose he'd help them mourn the loss of their lovely lashes.... it maybe different circumstances, but he rembers waking up with a lot less hair.... he however just didn't brutally rip all of his out.

Cait

"HOLY SHITE! Ive seen some gorey shite in my day, but that was like watching a horror movie. Ya alright lad/lassie"

She's not particularly nurturing, but she would make sure he friend was okay. She's not gonna offer her shoulder to cry on, especially since it was their own stupidity that got them in this situation, but she's glad their not hurt.

Danse

"KNIGHT! I-"

He'd stand their like an idiot, words completely failing him until they told him what they needed. Be it Knight Captian Cades assistance or moral support....

Curie

"Oh Monsieur/Madam please hold still..."

She'd look them over noting how red and puffy their eye was and how much it was running.... she'd insist they wear an eyepatch to keep dirt or debris from getting in it an injuring it further.

Deacon

"Wow your eye is really red! Sorry.... I- uh... I know! We'll just have to get matching shades! I think I have a backup somewhere around here.... I'll be right back."

Like promised he'd return to them shades in hand... If nothing else it should keep dirt and stuff outta their eye while their lashes grow back

Piper

"OH MY GOD!!! Uh.... um we can fix it right? Um... I mean it's not that bad... just no eyelashes left... oh god"

She was panicking because what the hell. How were they gonna fix this? Hopefully they'll go back because oh my God.

Nick

"Not sure what you expected when you took a medieval torture device up to your eyeball... oh Jesus kid you alright? that looked like it hurt kid...here lemme see it."

He thought they were just pulling a prank on him at first hence his sass, but once he realized they had indeed hurt themselves he'd rush to their aid, even though there was very little he could do for them beyond emotional support in this situation

Preston

"Just hang on.... I'm going to get the medic"

He'd freak out and rush to whatever settlements they were ats doctor. He didn't care if they really couldn't treat the injury he'd fell better knowing they were going to be alright

X6-88

"I really hope you didn't do that on purpose"

He'd be worried for their sanity until they told him they definitely didn't mean to do that... then he was just worried for their intellect

[juatacityboi]

MOTIVATION POST

(Lmao I'm watching Dr.Strange this is what brought this on)

something that people who haven't shifted tend to say is "if the universe doesn't let me shift" or "if the universe just let me shift"

no bestie you are the universe

you let yourself shift

Decide that you'll shift

Don't leave it up in the air

Do it

Only when you actually decide "hey I'm going to shift" and trust in your own power is when you'll truly shift

A huge part of Stephen Strange's story is that he's so logical and he struggles to accept that there are things that he doesn't fully understand or grasp.

He is quickly made a believer when he is forcefully thrown into the astral realm. He still struggles with belief as seen by his inability to conjure up a simple portal.

The Ancient One puts him on Mount Everest and abandons him.

Through a life or death experience he is able to conjure a portal to take him back to Kamar-Taj.

He quickly excels after that.

Why? Because he stopped doubting himself and his ability and went for it.

(I am in no way saying that you are not giving your absolute best when it comes to shifting im just making some observations of things ive seen and heard that have come up consistently throughout this shifting journey of mine)

Shifting in a way is your own magical journey

You start bushy tailed and bright eyed ready to dip the hell out of this reality and spend time somewhere of your choosing.

You might have some close calls where “ah my mom interrupted me” or “My cat climbed on me”

You might even be right on the edge with “oh i heard people from my dr and felt them and then i opened my eyes and i was still here”

Your life or death experience or rather your point of excelling lies in believing in yourself and your ability.

It’s not the universe who controls when you shift its you.

You,in all your amazing glory,found shifting and decided that you were going to try it.

You were the one who made countless scripts and brainstormed cute days with the comfort characters you love so dearly

You are the one who laid down and counted in that gods awful starfish position(personal opinion but that crap makes my back hurt sob)

You are the one who in the whole multiverse has joined many others in this journey of zipping around to the places you've always wanted to go, to the places you’ve always dreamed of

You decided that you were gonna go and chase that seemingly impossible dream of hanging out with the Avengers,casting a spell with your 8 1/2 inch willow wand with a unicorn hair core,running with wolves,riding dragons and attending a superpowered school.

Only to find that it is possible.

And you can absolutely do it

Lmao this has gotten really long so lemme just

TLDR:

Go and shift

Don't wait for no universe because you're a bad bitch(affectionately positive) and you and only you can decide when you shift

i love you /pos

[jadelynlace]

Hvitserk’s First Tattoo / Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU Request [Ivar x F!reader]

catch up on the porno, I mean series, here.

requested by: @quantumlocked310 ♡

author’s note: thanks to this post, you’ll all be subjected to the written requests. here is the visual reference for the tattoo Hvitserk gets (image isn’t mine and all credit goes to it’s original owner). mentions of brotherly bickering, Hvitserk being scared and Ivar tattooing.

synopsis: You finally talk Hvitserk into getting some ink.

✎

“Did I miss it?” You say, nearly falling in through the main door of the shop. “I almost took the ambulance over here just because it has lights and sirens,” Hvitserk offers you an estranged look, one mixed with him being mortified and slightly impressed with your timing after the over night shift.

“I’ve never seen you this excited,” Sigurd calls from his spot, pulling a record from the shelf as he goes about lining it up, pulling the needle over so the music can fill the room.

“She doesn’t even get this excited when she sees my dick,” Ivar teases from his spot and you offer him a less than kind finger gesture. 

“Can you blame me?” You remark back and Ivar only returns your original hand motion. “Did you pick yet?” You the ask as Hvitserk studies Ivar’s portfolio, as if he will be quizzed on it at the end of the session.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” He groans, another turn of the laminated pages.

“All of our best talks happen when it’s in the ambulance cabin at four in the morning,” You laugh, patting his back as you round the small counter. Ivar’s hands are quick to seat you on his lap, wrapping around you almost instantly and you both breathe in relief.

“Long night?” Ivar asks softly in your ear.

“Routine bullshit,” You grumble back, his hands tracing up your back and you could almost fall asleep in the very spot. One hand leaves your spine, reaching along the counter to grasp the tall can of his energy drink, offering it to you but you only shake your head. “That crap tastes like cough syrup,” You add as Ivar downs another gulp.

“Hurry up Hvitserk, we’re here after hours for this,” Ivar calls before he pulls the can back to his mouth.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to pop your cherry,” You say and Ivar looses some of the energy drink through a spray from his lips.

“You can get her name on your ass,” Sigurd says, walking past Hvitserk and tapping his uniform clad back. 

“Why? So Ivar and I can match?” Hvitserk grumbles back and you laugh against Ivar’s chest. 

“How do they know about that?” Ivar asks you quietly, through a teasing voice and you raise slightly, giggling against his mouth as your catch his lips with yours.

“Oh, for fucks sake—Hvitserk here, do that one,” Sigurd says, tapping his fingers against the page. “Paramedic Ragnarsson gets an anatomical tattoo,” 

“Nice choice,” Ivar hums, standing to his full height with you latched still around him and he sets you to sit along the counter.

“Is it nap time for the baby?” Sigurd says, voice taking on a toddler’s tone as he sits back at the front desk, and at the receiving end of the pen that flies from Ivar’s grasp. Leather combat boots stalk along the dark wooden floors, pulling the design from its laminated home before Ivar sends the image through the printer in the far corner. Your eyes catch sight of his back, the muscles in his biceps, the veins on his forearms as he programs the machine to spit out the stencil. Looming your eyes up the gray fabric of the old band tee, over the locks that he’s starting to comb into a bun, and then down the dark wash jeans and over how they end in the tops of his shoes. More thoughts swirl about how you couldn’t wait to undress him when you two would go to your apartment.

As Hvitserk makes himself comfortable in the black leather chair, he rolls up the uniform sleeve, a quick unbutton and folding of the blue material, already deciding on where he deemed the appropriate placement. The curl of his sleeve stops above his elbow and you could see the faint burn mark on his wrist from when he tried to eat a marshmallow that was still on fire. You watched Ivar position himself at his station, a meticulous arrangement of his tools, setting everything in a straight line to connect. There was a squirt of the ink into the containers, a pull of gloves onto his hands, wiggling his fingers into their spots and cracking his knuckles. You bit down on your own tongue to stop that moan that tried so hard to escape. Taking the razor to shave off the blond fuzz, he gingerly laid the stencil on his brother’s inner arm, pressing it gently before pulling it back.

“Double check in the mirror that you like the placement,” Ivar says, tossing his head towards the back wall with the mirror surrounded by an intense wooded frame Floki had built. Hvitserk stands, and you see the slight tremor in his hands, never a fan of any sort of pain—intentional or not. You’ve seen this man cry at the sensation of a paper cut, and all but sob when he jerked his shin against the metal grate on the ambulance’s bumper. But, he was also the man who would tell the patients that it was going to hurt—the realignment, or when he set up the hare for an isolated femur fracture—it was going to hurt and they had his full permission to break his hand if need be. You laugh every time there’s an active labor call, and Hvitserk reassures the mother that he has two hands, and if she needs to break one to push her child out, he’s willing to suffer. It calms the hysteria, even on the worst calls you two had walked into, Hvitserk always knew how to calm any of the demons that danced in the ambulance. Ivar turns to you as Hvitserk gazes, probably far longer than other client has to date, and slides himself over to where you’re perched. There’s a removal of one glove, an index finger and thumb on your chin as he kisses you once, twice, and third time. 

“I already know what I want to eat for dinner,” He whispers against your ear, just loudly enough so you’re the only one to hear his words. “But make sure you leave the polo on, baby girl,” He adds, kissing your temple and nudging the badge that’s on your chest, as a slow blush roses over your cheeks while he turns back around. “Alright brother, ready?” He calls, tapping the seat of the chair and Hvitserk takes a final look before plopping both himself down and his arm against the cushion. 

“Is it going to hurt?” Hvitserk asks, trying to bite the smile he’s showing while both Ivar and Sigurd are preparing to throw whatever they can reach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t resist,” Ivar offers him another lethal glare, nearly plucking the smile from his lips as he begins to spread a thin layer of the ointment across the purple ink. There’s a buzz from the needle gun and Hvitserk whimpers not unlike a puppy. Ivar’s glove-clad fingers stretch to pull the skin taunt, taking the gun down the first line and wiping it with a paper towel.

“Still alright, sir?” You say to Hvitserk as if he’s a patient in your ambulance and you’re watching an IV start. 

“Can you hold my hand?” He whines in a faked voice of concern.

“No,” You say back and there’s a snicker from Sigurd on the far side of the shop. The room dulls to only the noise of the record, the vibration of the needle and you watch Ivar so effortlessly in his element. Eyes watching, concentrating on what he’s doing yet singing lowly to the lyrics of the song that floods your ears alike. He rolls his chair slightly, maneuvering Hvitserk’s arm to his liking as he holds it down with his own. Strength unmatched because his least favorite thing is when the client fidgets, since it sends his work to become sloppy, and he’s grown accustomed to a way to hold the body part down to his liking. And that sight makes you think about him over you, body weight pressing against you like a weighted blanket, one with a smart mouth and curved lip who melts at the sheer stroke of your nails on his skin. Your thoughts rolls from the shift you worked prior, reanalyzing what you had done, gone through, pulling it to part like thread. They roll like waves but crash with thoughts of Ivar, his small comment earlier and then they shift. From work to pleasure and you’re squeezing your thighs before you realize it. Ivar’s voice comes through your ears to halt the dissection, and you move your head to see Hvitserk admiring the piece now forever on his skin and you smile back. Another layer of ointment and then it’s wrapped tightly with Ivar’s instructions to leave it on for an hour. 

“See? No need to be a little baby about it,” You tease him and he laughs.

“That’s his default setting,” Sigurd’s voice calls as he stands up. “Ivar you’re closing up tonight, right?” And Ivar just nods. “I will see your smiling face tomorrow morning then,” He adds sarcastically, and with a wave and check of his pockets he’s out the shops front door.

“Wasn’t as terrible as I thought,” Hvitserk jokes. “Maybe I will get your name on my ass after all,” You offer him a faked smile and forged laugh. “I’m going to head out too, I got the over time for tomorrow,” And he’s gone with a salute through his hand and the hundred dollar bill on the desk, leaving you and Ivar alone in the shop.

“I like seeing you in here,” You say softly as you watch him clear his materials, place everything in their homes and he smiles while he works. “You’re so relaxed,”

“I can say the same thing when I see you in that ambulance, baby,” He replies as he casts a look back to you and then he’s standing, arm grabbing you to come into his side. “Now let’s get going, I’m really looking forward to my dinner…”

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk  @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa  @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @fandomlifeandeverythingelse

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[superbdragoncollection-stuff]

A Visual Reference guide to my thoughts through Wing it Like Witches

This is a visual guide of my reactions to Wing it Like Witches, written with notes I took during the episode that were typically stream of consciousness.

Okay, so we have another episode this week! Well, I wonder what they’re going to do. I mean some ships have been one-episode affairs and... Molly Ostertag helped write this one.

Let’s roll!

Scorpia?! Aw, no, never mind...

Sportsball? What’s sportsball?

HEY IT’S NOT SAD! LOTS OF US MAKE FRIENDS OUT OF-- Well, not plants...LOOK JUST BECAUSE SOME OF US TALK TO...COMPUTERS...AND VEHICLES...AGH 

[GASP] AMITY WHOO! Wait what are you up to--?

“I used to be like you; obsessed with status, challenging my competition, but I grew up. When will you?”

Aww! I’m so proud!

Literal school spirits? I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Gory Days” doesn’t phase me at all. I’m just wondering how many bodies she’s buried.

Wait a minute did she say cheating? Oh no this had better not be a cheating episode--

“Cheating isn’t anything to brag about. How do you know how good you are if all you do is cheat?”

...Luz that’s a good point.

“Well, can’t reason with crazy!”

Okay, Eda, King is right, that rat didn’t look healthy. CLEAN YOUR FRAKKING HAIR!

The spirit and Hooty should make friends sometime. Probably wouldn’t end well though...

“Over fifty years ago, the emperor appointed a head witch to each coven” WAIT DON’T TRAIL OFF I NEED BACKSTORY MAN!

Hey, who didn’t use movies as guides in high school?

Not food. NOT FOOD.

WAIT A MINUTE, WILLOW FEVER?! IS THAT PIECE A CHARM OR SOMETHING?! WILLOW SAY IT ISN’T SO

Oh, it’s just a bully.

[pulls out gun] NOBODY MAKES MY KIDS SAD. Where the heck’s the teacher?!

Well I mean it is the Boiling Isles...

WAIT A MINUTE, WAIT A MINUTE...THEY ACTUALLY HAD A TEACHER INVOLVED?! I can’t tell if he’s just trying to draw her attention or...ah nuts.

OH MY GOD A HIGH SCHOOL KID INVENTED A NEW SLUR?!

“She got away with murder? I can’t say I approve but I’m glad she’s trying new things!” Hey, up yours Back-to-the-Future-teacher! Unfortunately, this is actually being played in a realistic way. This is a problem some schools have, it’s not a movie cliche. I’ve heard reddit stories like this, with the popular kids, especially the sports kids, getting support and are allowed to get away with everything.

[GASP] WELL DEAR VIEWERS, THIS IS WHY WE’RE ALL HERE!

OH MY GOD AMITY IS BEING SO AWKWARD IT’S ADORABLE

“YES I CAN HELP!...With what exactly?” oh my god that’s adorable.

Luz gets close and Amity starts backing up oh my god!

Luz oh my god what the hell

Wait is Amity thinking the same thing I am or--

...okay good

Hm, what’s mom doing back at the house?

Hm, the 90s motive might actually hint that she’s been exploring earth for a while--

HOOTY GET OUT

WHAT THE YOTZ I WAS NOT EXPECTING HER SUBPLOT TO DO THIS

Okay that jacket looks really good on Eda. I like the contrast it adds. Also she was just mirroring her wanted poster pose.

Okay, what’s Lily got this time? Hah, look at Eda...

Oh my god they’re such siblings. I love how she’s just ignoring her.

[SPIT-TAKE] “--THE HELL DID SHE JUST SAY?! ‘The emperor has big plans for the isles’?!”

EDA LILY IS BEING GRUMPY AND PLOT RELEVANT

Oh no...memory? “Why can’t you remember me...?”

I do love how Eda is just doing things for the heck of it half the time.

It’s refreshing that the sport they’re good at isn’t stereotypically “feminine”, like it’s not cheerleading or something. It’s the regular sports stuff

WHAT THE FRELL?!

CANTALOUPE GUY SHUT UP

OH NO OH NO LUZ GENRE SAVVINESS CAN BE A CURSE WATCH OUT

“Me?” ...what.

“On...a team...with you?” WHAT.

“Running around in cute uniforms?” OH WOW

“Sweating?!” THEY WENT THERE?!

“...I gotta go!” THEY WENT THERE!

“So...how do we play this game?” Luz, you’re a girl after my own heart. This is my friends and I trying to decode sportsball.

Huh. how about that minefield. At this point I’m hardened. Nothing’s gonna surprise me now.

HAH! ROCKY

What. The frell.

“What happens in the montage stays in the montage!” OKAY OKAY

WHAT THE YOTZ IS KING WEARING AND HOW IS HE PULLING IT OFF

This is gonna end with one heck of a sibling fistfight.

“She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had” oh, kid, that hits me hard.

OH GOD IS THIS KOHLII? I’M HAVING MASK OF LIGHT FLASHBACKS AAAAAAAAA

HOW’D SHE GET A DVD?! Hm the way she hesitates, and the fact that Gus tried to eat the DVD, I wonder if that means it's not a movie here

Hm, now leadership is an interesting thing, how do you know how far to push the people following you--?

AAAHH WHAT THE FRELL 

SHE’S BLUSHING AND I LOVE BACKSTORIES TOO

“I know how to make it up to Willow.” [throws a grenade]

HOW MANY BODIES ARE BURIED HERE

“She can be so stupid...which i love…”

“I MEAN HATE” PFFF HAHAHAHAHAH

“Which is sweet…”

“AND I HATE IT. AND IT’S DUMB” OH MY GOD

Oh god that IV tower hurts.

What the frell. Welp, I have seen into the void.

EDA WHAT THE YOTZ?!

WHAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHA

“I’ll be waiting.” UH...

WHOOOO!

WHAT SOCIAL LIFE?!

SHE’S LOOKING INTO HER EYES WHO’S TALLER OH MY GOD

DA FRAK FIRE MAGIC?! WHOO!

Well I thought there would be a fistfight. I didn’t think it would be between Amity and Boscha.

HOLY CRAP THEY SURVIVED WITHOUT ANY INJURIES...Hey where’s Amity-

THE WHAT

THE SNITCH?!

I mean wow yeah quidditch freaking sucks.

OH NO AMITY NO NO NO

“Are you sure you’re okay? I could help carry you if it really hurts…”

“HAHAHA I’M FINE! WHO’S AMITY?!”

Lesbian.exe has stopped working. Oh you poor girl.

“And scoop!” OH MY GOD

“Oh...wow...sports…”

SHE’S STILL HOLDING HER UP- NERD ARMS INDEED

Mom’s scoping out her daughter’s new girlfriend…

I am actually really enjoying how accurate of a high school experience this feels like. It feels a lot like my own. Minus the magic of course. This episode wasn’t as extreme of a Lumity overload as the last, but prom episodes are usually stuffed with that sort of thing. This episode was great nevertheless.

[lightsaberupmybutt]

Three’s a Crowd - Reader/Ben Solo/Poe Damerson (Modern AU)

alright so Ben/Kylo is a big ego kid in this, because of course. Also, Rey is ACTUALLY Lukes daughter in this, making them cousins. Ive fiddled with the plot okay sue me. 

Summary: Poe, Finn and their roommate have been living in a harmonious tenancy, but when Finn decides to move out for a year of travelling, the two are left with no option but to look elsewhere for their third body. Rey Skywalker, a friend of the group, proposes her cousin for the role. He's in a band, wears all black and all in all is somewhat of a social reject - but he's also all theyve got.  

“I think that one was actually somehow worse than last weeks” You tell Poe, as he pours himself a juice and settles down next to you on the sofa. You'd just finished showing around another possible roommate and you felt exhausted in every sense of the word. 

“How can he be worse than the neo nazi?” Poe shot you an unbelieving look and rolled his eyes, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table and knocking some of your papers in his wake. 

“Alex was a she, and they asked if they could hang their deer head in the front room” you grimaced even thinking about it, weren't all artsy college students supposed to be vegetarians anyway? why did you have to get saddled with the only blood thirsty one on campus. 

“Thats not so bad”

“Poe she showed me a picture of her taxidermied cat”

“Oh”

You had tried to find a polite way to stop her from passing you her phone, but you were too nice to make her feel uncomfortable, and now the image of the long dead tabby would remain behind your eyes for god knows how long. 

“was she hot?” You shook your head, causing Poe to sigh wistfully. 

“Not hot enough to cancel out her obsession with dead bodies anyway” you informed him, the hopeful look from his eyes gone. 

“Face it Poe, were doomed” You let your head fall into your hands, Poe letting out a laugh before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

“Hey we’ll get someone! who wouldn't want to live here?” You knew his question was rhetorical but when looking around the cleaner than usual flat, you had to admit it was missing something. Bare spaces on the walls from where Finn had taken down his pictures, the empty side of the kitchen counter that had once houses his overpriced coffees. You even missed picking up his empty cups after him, the room feeling like it had less character without them. It truly hadn't felt the same in the flat since Finn had left, and although Poe concealed it well, you could see it was getting to him too. Poe had, after all, known Finn first; Finn managing to get a very drunk and outspoken Poe out of a sticky situation he had found himself in when running across a local gang in a dive bar. The ‘first order’ as they so called themselves, had an infamous reputation around campus for being trouble makers and general doers of bad deeds. Ever since that night they had been an unstoppable duo, until they met you of course, and their duo became three. 

You loved Finn, and you knew told miss him like hell, but you also knew that Poe must be feeling that ten times over. 

“You wanna do something tonight?” You asked, changing the subject before his mind  drifted to where yours had. 

“what kind of something?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, 

“Gross” 

“hey I'm serious!”

“what about Razor Crest, they are open late, we could grab some drinks and meet up with some people” 

Razor crest was the only worth while bar in town; it was certainly nothing to write home about, but it played fairly decent music and it had a marginally less sticky floor than others. Additionally, your other friends lived just over from the humble saloon, making it the perfect watering hole for you guys. 

It didn't take much convincing before you had Poe out the door and ready to socialise. Upon arrival, he headed to the bar while you were waved over by Rey, who had already found a booth and was already at least a few drinks in. 

“Look, i think i have a solution to your roomie problemo” She told you, peeking over her straw, a gleam in her eye that made you feel not all too confident in her yet to be spoken plan. 

“Go on” you told her, cautiously. 

“My cousins back in town” She told you between gulps. 

“The weird one?” You asked, 

“Hes not weird, just ...eccentric” the last word was more of a question, but you could tell she was on a roll, 

“He's just joined one of the college bands and Auntie Leia says him and Uncle Han are butting heads” 

“ah cool, weve always wanted  live music in our own flat at 2 am” Poe injected, rejoining the table and placing a drink in front of you before taking a sip of his own. 

“hes not BAD at it, he just plays loud i think” She corrected him, “anyway, he's not a total twat, I'm sure he would be considerate of your sleep schedules” 

“didn't he try and stab you with a stick when you were five” you asked her, you'd heard stories of this cousin before and none of them were quite savoury, 

“that was ages ago! he's like way old now” she was starting to slur her words, but you had a feeling this was something Rey was quite set on. Rey was stubborn, and when she got something in mind she would move hell to make it happen; she was also your best friend, and someone you trusted the judgment off. Had she gotten you into some weird shit in the past? sure. 

Did you have any other options; nay on that. 

“Fine, get Han or Leia to bring him round at some point next week and one of us will give him a tour” You tell her, and she lets out a little happy shrill at her own personal win. Poe, not so much. 

“Speak for yourself, weirdo cousin can see himself around” he crosses his arms and pouts, you give him a little nudge. 

“Hey, maybe you'll be best mates” you offer, but when he shoots you a death stare you go back to your drink.

The family turmoil must have been more vicious than Rey had let in on; It was barely the next morning before you had a tall, intimidating male knocking on your door. 

“Hey!” you offered him, in as cheery a voice as your hung over self would allow.

He looked down at you from his towering height, but gave no verbal response. 

“You must be Ben?...”  He offered you the slightest nod you'd had ever seen in response. Okay so, not much of a talker, noted. 

You waved him in, shutting the door behind him. God, he looked even bigger inside? is that possible? Rey had failed to mention the sheer height on the boy. You'd seen pictures of her and her aunt and uncle, it seemed like Ben was a scientific and biological mystery. Like how did he get clothes to fit? did he have to shop somewhere special or

you were snapped out of your thoughts by a clearing of a throat. 

“So, how much is the rent” so he DID have a voice, 

You informed him automatically, still part dazed. 

“Ill be in by the weekend” he told you, and with a nod he moved past you, making his way back to the door.

“But wait .. y .. you haven't even seen your room yet?” You stumbled, dumbfound by the lack of foreplay. The previous people you had shown around were full of questions; they wanted to know the ins and outs of the place. Ben had seen all of the door way and the front room and he was already signing the lease. 

“See you then” he didn't stop, hand on the door knob as if you hadn't spoken.

“But i don't have your phone number” you don't know why that came to you first, but it was true. At no point had Rey offered you direct contact with Ben, probably assuming he would. It seemed reasonable, that you'd need his number before he moved in, didn't it? Poe was always texting you about random shit in the flat, arguably too much, but it seemed like the norm for people coexisting in such a small space. 

He turned back at you and gave you a confused look, 

“why would you need my number?”

“erm... to talk to you” your condescending tone not completely masked, 

“but ill be living here” he stated, which, he had you there. 

Before you could even think of a response  he was out the door.

True to his word, Ben had his things over by that very same weekend. Although it was unsurprising considering just how light he packed. In fact, other than his bass and musical equipment, you couldn't really think of anything he had actually brought with him to the flat. You got to meet his parents when they dropped him off, both of whom seemed leaps and bounds more conversational than their son. Ironically, you got Leia’s phone number before her sons; her telling you to message if you ever needed anything. It felt like an indirect jab at Ben, a ‘if he fucks up let me know’, but you digress. The tension between Ben and his dad was blatantly obvious, them sharing no words before he got back into the car and Ben into the house. He did give his mum a small hug goodbye though, and you thought you saw a small tear in her eye before she managed to wipe it away. 

Since his move in, Ben had kept painfully to himself. You barely saw him at all in those first days, just heard him through the walls the odd time he dropped something - or saw a plate or cup gone from their places in the kitchen. To be honest , it felt more like a paranormal haunting than a new roommate. Poe was vocal of his apprehension to the situation, sharing glances with you when you would both be in the living room and you'd see ben scurry by or passive aggressively texting you when his favourite cup had been used by someone who wasn't him. it was a relatively small issue, but Poe had blown it so out of proportion that you had ordered a new set of cups from Amazon and sent him the link, shutting him up for a while before he found something else to complain about.

it was the fifth day before you actually bumped into ben again. He was on the sofa with his base set up, twiddling with his amp. The sight surprised you so much you physically jumped back, causing him to look up. crap. act cool. act cool. 

“hey” you offered him

“hi” hi replied back, looking back down at his amp. 

right, yer. his space, give him his space. Just get your stuff and go back to your room. don't speak to him, leave him alone. he clearly wants to be left alone. 

“nice day isn't it” you wanted to cover your mouth, the words coming out against your will. Truthfully, you had no clue why you said it. You hadn't even looked at the weather this morning. Its just what people say right? 

“Erm” his eyes shot to the window and then back to yours,”no”

sure enough, it was pissing it down outside. The sky was actually comically grey and you'd have laughed if you werent so angry at yourself. You were unsure of what to do, and he was still looking at you, almost assessing you. His eyes were so serious and dark they felt like they were burning tiny holes into your skin. shit, you had to speak now right?

While regretting every single life decision that had brought you into this kitchen at this time, Poe sauntered into the room like your night in shining armour, ignoring Ben all together and coming straight over to you, placing a big arm around your shoulders. You saw Ben drop his head back down to this bass, and you used all your might to not let out a sigh of relief.

“Tonight, I'm taking you out” He offered, a cheeky gleam in his eye. 

“Are you now” 

“Razor crest, drinks and dancing, be there or be square” He lists off as if he's a paid promoter, causing you to let out a giggle. 

“Whos invited?” 

“just the gang” he said, causing you to shoot him an eye roll, knowing full well you ‘gang’ consisted of all of three people, yourself and Poe included in that number. 

but then you remembered, there was another person now, whether they liked it or not. Poe’s eyes followed yours to Ben and then back to meet yours again, you saw the realisation change to disgust, as he shook his head silently at you. 

you knew this look, the ‘don't you dare’ look, the ‘not in 1000 years’ look. But you couldn't help it, your lips were moving before you could stop them for the second time this morning. 

“Are you free tonight, Ben?’

The look of sheer betrayal on Poe's face made you wince, surely he'd understand right? he knew you well enough to know your verbal diarrhoea  problem. 

Ben didn't even look up, but he did let out a small laugh that felt quite antagonistic. 

“i dont go to Razor Crest” 

“i don't go to razor crest ugh” Poe mocked, causing Rey to let out a hysterical giggle, and you a sigh. 

You'd been out for all of three hours and you were all already feeling the effects of the alcohol. It was late and the bar was jam packed with students all raring to go. Poe had been making eyes at one particular red head  almost all night and you were half surprised he hadn't already made his move. Poe put out, it was a fact. You and Finn had at one time made a fridge chart for him, a gold star awarded every time he brought  girl home. Whether the goal was to make him feel proud of his conquests or embarrassed, you still weren't 100% sure, but after a month or so you had both lost count and given up. You told yourself it didn't bother you, that he was just a friend, and that he owed you nothing, but every time he left you at the bar for another girl something stung inside; something you pushed deep down but regrettably was still there none the less. 

Sure enough, as the night progressed, you and Rey ended up fending for it alone, and instead of feeling sorry for yourself you decided to do the responsible thing and drink more. 

After the third round of shots, Rey calls it in. 

“I think I'm gonna be sick” she tells you sheepishly, and you can't help but belly laugh in response. She starts to shuffle towards the door and you go to follow.

“Hey don't leave on my behalf” she tells you earnestly, but you wave her off. 

“Nah I've had my fill, I'm starting to forget which flat number i live at” you tell her, causing her to giggle this time. 

You both stumble out the bar, past the smokers and up the cobbled road towards her flat. She unlocks her door and lets herself in, not before giving you a drunken hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. 

As you ready yourself to make your way back to your own flat, you come back past the bar entrance; a particularly prominent cobble causes you to trip ever so slightly and gain a whoop from a group of boys who were passing round a box of marlboro straights. 

You suddenly realised just how dark it was and just how alone you were. Most nights you wouldn't stay out this late, and if you did, then you'd normally be walking back with finn. You let out a shiver, a mix of both the cold night air finally breaking through your drunken daze and a smidge of fear. The Razor Crests entrance lights were getting progressively further away, and although you know that you only had a maximum of a half mile walk back to your home, it felt like ample distance to get kidnapped or murdered in, most probably both. 

How many true crime stories started with a young drunk girl, scantily clad and out alone at night? You could hear the police reports now, which photo would they use? you prayed it would be a hot one, at the very least one after your thin brow phase. 

Being literally bumped back into reality, in almost a cruel humorous way, you felt yourself walk head first into a figure, their arms coming out to catch you as the sheer momentum bounced you back. 

Oh god, I'm dead. I'm literally going to die.  

“Hey, chill out” The voice made your heart beat both slow and race again, 

“Ben?!” you shrieked, voice hoarse through pure anticipation of your thought to be demise 

“Are you okay” he asked, and only then did you realise you were shaking like a leaf. 

“Im fine” you let out in a small voice, looking down at your shoes. You could feel the redness in your cheeks through pure embarrassment alone. This was not an ideal situation for him to see you in, and you kind of started to with that he had been a murderer, at least then you wouldn't have to deal with the second hand embarrassment in the morning. 

“What are you doing out here”

“why are you out alone” 

you both asked simultaneously,

“I was coming out for a smoke” He told you, flashing his tobacco pouch at you from inside his coat. His very warm looking coat, might you add. Another shiver ran down your body. 

“Im coming home from Razor Crest” you tell him, trying to be matter of fact but slurring your words just enough to spoil the show. 

“Yes obviously, but why are you alone” he shoots back in some what of a patronising tone, it wouldn't sit well with sober you and it definitely doesn't go down well with drunk you. 

“Im a big girl” 

“clearly” he makes, making extra sure to look you up and down from his towering distance above you, causing you to huff. 

“well i can take care of myself” 

“you shouldn't be out alone around here, its not safe” he ignores your response, looking you dead in the eye. 

You feel something inside you flutter, a warmth that you can't quite control. Okay, ben might be weird and a bit annoying it would seem, but he was handsome, thats for sure. The limited light danced off his strong features and dark shaggy mop of hair, making him look both dangerous and appealing. 

As if you were standing here mentally flirting with the idea of being with Res cousin; you made a mental note to punish yourself for the ludicrous thoughts in the morning. 

“Okay well I'm going home now” you tell him, attempting to push past him, but his large hand finds its way to your forearm and pulls you back,

“yes, you are, come on” If what he said before was patronising, he was now speaking to you like you were a dog he was walking. 

“go have your nicotine, ive got this one covered” you tell him with a mock salute, causing him to roll his eyes. He lets go of your arm and you take your win, trying to step confidently away without falling. You're proud of yourself for handling the situation when you realise he's following all  of 10 steps behind you, rolling a cigarette in his hands while holding a filter between his teeth. 

when he catches you looking, he nods down to his hands, 

“want one?” he mumbles between his lips, still holding the filter pride of place. 

“no thanks” you snap, picking up pace. 

Ben smirks at you, but you miss it, too focused on not embarrassing yourself and keeping your feet in line. 

[ellewritesfix05]

Ablaze - Chapter IV: A Little Push

Characters: Firefighter!Dean x Doctor!Reader, Meg

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, medical dramatization

A/N: first of all, I am so sorry to those who notice. This part was supposed to be posted two days ago but work has been absolutely insane and as a result, I’ve decided that this series will be posting on Saturdays 🤗 having said that, I hope y’all enjoy this part 💜 if you’d like to join the Ablaze Taglist, please let me know here.

Catch up on this series here -> Ablaze Masterlist

📸 cred: to the always amazing @downanddirtydean and rightful owners!

Dividers by: @talesmaniac89 @firefly-graphics

Here’s my full Masterlist if you’d like to read more!☺️

“Looks like you have me all figured out, Winchester.”

“Not as much as I’d like”

The conversation plays in your head for what must be the thousandth time today. After your walk through the garden with Dean — sans fruit salad due to how late you’d gone out — you’d taken him back to his room and said your goodbyes. Ever since that day, almost a week ago, your mind couldn’t help but think about the day you’d had alongside Dean. You think back to the alarm of his monitors going off and how scared you felt when you thought he was in danger. Who is this man, waltzing into your life to turn it around in the shortest amount of time possible?

“I think that sauce has been stirred enough, Y/N,” says the brunette sitting across from you, leaning on the counter section of your kitchen island.

You look up, “huh? Oh, right.” Shaking your head you place the spoon next to the stove. Meg continues to stare at you curiously.

“You’re thinking about Dean again, aren’t you?”

“Meg,” you sigh as you turn to get the pasta noodles for your dinner.

She smirks, “what? I’m just wondering how long it’s going to be before you admit that you like the guy!”

“I do not!”

“Really? Y/N, cut the crap. In the seven years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you spend as much time with a patient as you have been with Dean in the past week alone.”

You open your mouth to give some witty retort but in reality, your mind comes up blank. She has a point. Ever since the fireman came into your life, a large portion of your time had been spent by his side — at least whatever free time you were able to get in between caring for other patients, filling out paperwork, and the occasional emergency call. In those moments spent with Dean you’ve learned so much about him. Much more than you would of any other person, let alone any other patient. He has a little brother, only 4 years younger than him and apparently tall as a skyscraper but he still calls him “little brother”. He grew up in Kansas but enjoys road trips in a classic car given to him by his now-deceased father, a 1967 Chevy Impala. You’ve never been one to know much about cars but when he showed you a picture of it — or “baby” as he calls it — you had to admit, she was beautiful in a rough around the edges kind of way. There are about a hundred more things you’ve learned from him ever since, each and every one just as fascinating as the last.

Meg’s smile only grows as she grabs her glass of wine from the counter, lifting it in a small, triumphant toast.

“Honestly, it’s fine. It’s good, even! You haven’t been serious with anyone since Zach,” Meg’s eyes widened as she realized she named the unmentionable. “Sorry, it just slipped out!”

“It’s fine, Meg. It’s not like the man’s Voldemort or something.” You chuckle to yourself as Meg rolls her eyes. She’s always acting like she’s too cool for your ‘geek’ references, but you know deep down she enjoys them. “Besides, I’m over it. It’s been like five years.”

As you place the pasta into the boiling water, you grab your own wine glass, “as for Dean… we’re just friends. Well, not even that, really. He’s my patient. I’m just being a good healthcare provider.”

“So you’re telling me if he asked you out you wouldn’t say yes?”

“I’m saying…” would you say yes? You’re not exactly ready to admit it to Meg, but chances are you definitely would say yes, “if — after he’s been off my service — we happen to bump into each other and he asks to have dinner or something I will think about it. As of now, it’s strictly a doctor/patient relationship.”

Liar.

“Besides, as you well know we can’t date patients, so even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

Meg purses her lips but nods. While she knows your true feelings towards the green-eyed fireman, she also knows you still hold yourself back from meaningful relationships. Not that she blames you, but she also believes it’s time for you to get out there. You just need a little push is all. And just like that, a lightbulb goes off in her head, an idea to help you and Dean get to know each other better in mind.

The next day you’re up early again, only this time you don’t want until later in the day to check on Dean. As the residents do their rounds at 5:00 A.M., you watch from outside his room as they inspect his wounds and take his vitals. His hair is slightly tousled and he keeps blinking as if trying to adjust to the brightness of the fluorescent lights. It’s adorable and you can’t help but feel protective over him; how dare these young doctors wake him so early in the day?

You shake your head at your irrational thoughts. It was protocol and you remember having to do those things yourself. it’s not their fault, yet your annoyance at their disturbance remains all the same.

Once the residents start to make their way out, you head inside and a smile you didn’t know you had widens as Dean’s emerald eyes focus on you, “morning, doc.”

“I think we’ve known each other long enough for you to start calling me Y/N, not doc.”

“Y/N,” says Dean and your heart beats wildly against your rib cage. Your name falls from his lips like the most decadent chocolate, “I like it.”

“Thanks,” you smile, “so how’d my children treat you today?”

Dean looks at you confusedly and you chuckle as you clarify, “my residents. I call them my children because it feels like I’m always looking after them. A lot of them hate it but what are they gonna do?”

“Makes sense,” Dean’s laughter lights up the room far more than the few rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains, “they were better today. Though I’d still rather have you wake me up.” He mumbles the last and for a second you’re not sure you even heard properly.

“Well maybe - “ you’re about to suggest coming in earlier when a knock on the door stops you.

“Dr. Y/L/N? There’s a billing guy that wants to know if you can give them a call, they want to double check something.” Meg explains her presence and you nod before turning to tell Dean you’ll be back soon. As you leave the room, Meg gives an unusual smirk and you’re almost scared to leave her alone with Dean but you figure, she won’t do anything too crazy. Or so you hope.

After your call you’d found yourself unusually busy with paperwork, so much so that you had to rush through your examination with all your patients. By the time lunch time rolled around, you were mentally exhausted but ready to take a break. Munching on a quick snack, you kept working on paperwork when a nurse knocked on the door of the small conference room you were using as an office.

“Sorry to bother Dr. Y/L/N, but I have a form that you need to look at,” he hands you the file, “it’s a request to change doctors.”

What? “Let me see,” you grab the file, lips pursed in confusion. You’ve heard of these things happening before but you’ve never actually gotten a patient so dissatisfied they wanted off your service completely. Opening the file, your heart drops when you read the patient's name

Dean Winchester.

Did I do something wrong? The question clouds your mind, you think back to the past week and how nice it has been. Maybe he didn't think so, for all you know he could feel that your spending time with him was inappropriate or suffocating. The nurse clearing his throat brings you back to reality.

“I’ll look this over and take it to you once I’m done signing.” You tell him as he extends his hand, too slow for you as you get up and gather the rest of the paperwork you’d been working on before leaving. Stopping until you reach the nurse’s station right by the burn unit, you try to hide your anger and disappointment but soon enough a soft voice asks, “are you okay?”

Meg reaches your side, “did something happen?”

“Nothing unless you count this as something,” you show her the request in your hands, “and you thought he liked me.”

Meg purses her lips, “maybe you should go ask him if something happened?”

“You know I can’t do that, he wants another doctor, not for the sad, desperate one he has to keep bugging him.”

“Don’t you want to know why?”

You stand there, pondering on whether or not to confront Dean. Technically, you’re not supposed to — the fact that he even made the request at all says so. But the way that the past few days have been, you feel as though an explanation is necessary. Taking a deep breath you turn and head towards his room. As he was progressing faster than expected, you’d soon had him moved to a regular room rather than keep him in the isolation of the burn unit, which he had appreciated.

As you approach the hallway where his room is, you feel a wave of nausea roll over you. Maybe you shouldn’t go, maybe you should just sign him over to another doctor and be done with it. You’re about to turn back when you hear your name, looking up you see Dean walking towards you. He must’ve been taking a walk through the halls.

You head towards him and meet him with a guarded expression, not cold but distant and professional, “Dean.”

“How’s it going? Meg said you were having a busy day.” He smiled as if nothing was wrong and for some reason that just makes you angry. Still, you’re at your place of business, you can’t be too emotional.

“Well now that you ask, actually. I wanted to give you this,” you grab the form from the folder you’re holding in your hand, sign it and hand it to him. He takes the paper with a furrowed brow. “I assure you, Dr. Liu is a fantastic doctor and you’re in great hands, now.”

You’re about to turn to walk away when you feel a hand on your elbow. Looking at the hand, you raise an eyebrow in question and Dean lets go immediately.

“I-I should explain,” Dean starts but you raise a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay, Dean. You have every right to request it and you don’t have to expla-“

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He blurts out and you almost choke on the final words of your sentence.

Dumbfounded, you stare, wide-eyed, at the handsome man in front of you, and that’s when you realize something, “did… Dean, did Meg put you up to this?”

“She might’ve helped…”

I’m going to kill her. “Would you - can I see you in your room in a bit? I have to take care of something.”

You don’t wait for his response as you turn on your heel and head back to Meg’s usual station. She sits by the computer, digitizing a chart when she looks up to see you fuming her way. That same smirk from earlier forms around her lips and her lack of shame or regret just makes your blood boil, “Masters, we need to talk.”

“About?” Your hushed, yet noticeably angry, tone does not seem to faze her at all as she replies, cool as a cucumber.

“What the hell did you do? Did you tell Dean to request off my service and ask me out?”

“Alright,” Meg stands from her seat. “Listen, I’m not going to sit here and bullshit you. He asked — not so subtly, I might add — if you were seeing anyone. I told him you’re not but that you don’t date patients. And then I slipped in the fact that there’s a form that could help with that. He decided to do it and you know the rest. And before you try to lecture me on the laws of ‘propriety’” she does air quotes for effect, “let me tell you; I don’t care. You like him and he clearly likes you. Now stop standing there like an idiot and go talk to him — as a man, not as your patient.”

Your mouth is agape and you can’t come up with anything, so you let her grab you by the shoulders and turn you back towards the hallway you came from. After feeling a little push from her, your feet guide you towards Dean, basically taking you of their own accord.

Turning the corner, you take a deep breath before entering Dean’s room. He’s back on his bed, leafing through what seemed to be People Magazine when he hears you walk in and immediately shoves it under his blanket which makes you chuckle slightly.

“Hey,” you almost whisper, “listen, I appreciate the effort and I don’t know what Meg told you, or if it’s about what I’ve told you concerning my past but you don’t have to ask me out or anything like that.” You sit at the foot of his bed, you know what Meg said but part of you can’t quite buy into him wanting to go on an actual date with you out of anything besides gratefulness and — if you’re being honest — pity.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to. Sorry if I’m being too honest here or something but I actually really like you, Y/N. As a person, not just as the doctor that saved my life. I understand if you don’t want t-“

“Oh no, I want to!” The way you basically yell that out makes you cringe, “I mean. I’d like to get to know you outside of the hospital, too.”

Dean’s lips curl into one of those smiles that make your heart flutter, “great! So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a maybe, you’re still my patient as of now and I am definitely not allowed to date patients. But, this doesn’t mean you have to request a change of doctors. I was going to tell you later today, actually, you’re probably being discharged tomorrow. You’re healing very nicely and there’s no point in keeping you trapped in here. I just wanted to have you here one more day to make sure everything is still going as it should and after that, you’ll no longer be my patient. You get sent to one of my colleagues for your check ups and the bandage removal.”

“So after tomorrow you won’t be my doctor?” His tone is hopeful.

“I’ll try not to be so offended about your excitement over this,” you joke.

Dean’s laughter was infectious. You continue to talk more about him getting a ride home after getting discharged as well as next steps concerning taking care of his shoulder. He tries to talk you into letting him go back to work but you stress the necessity for rest, which makes him anxious. After finally getting him to agree you leave later than usual as you decided to have a mediocre hospital-food dinner with him. You never explicitly agree to the date, but in a sort of silent agreement kind of way, you know it’s going to happen. And you cannot wait for the day to come.

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

Chapter V>

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Ablaze Taglist ♥️🔥

@deans-baby-momma / @deangirl93 / @maralisa124 / @laycblack / @eliwinchester99 / @supernatural-love14 / @itskatrinahere / @onethirstyunicorn / @audryrainbowdragon / @ajreturnstocringeyaccount / @flamencodiva / @seppys-return-to-madness / @pansexualgrapes / @watermelonlipstick / @panicking-outside-the-disco / @thefamilybussiness / @krazykelly / @halesandy / @beabutterfly987 / @supernatural-bellawinchester / @katelynw93 / @zozebo / @samsgirl93 / @xhannahbananax03 / @afangirlreacts / @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel / @440mxs-wife

Forever Loves Taglist 🖤

@deanwanddamons / @hobby27 / @spnchick1996 / @briagallen / @downanddirtydean / @vicmc624 / @justanotherblonde23 / @foxyjwls007 / @tatted-trina6 / @mlovesstories

Dean Sweethearts Taglist ♥️

@lyarr24 / @akshi8278 / @pillowjj / @stoneyggirl / @wiserainbowgirl / @attackonnat / @deanswaywardgirl / @thoughts-and-funnies / @deep-in-my-thoughts13 / @themrsdeanwinchester / @vikkiwalker

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

For the next several days, Bakugou stopped in towns along the train route that were in the easterly direction to see if any other strange reports had been made. He wasn’t sure if the first man’s attack had anything to do with his friend, but in the towns, he was able to confirm a sighting of a green streak, there were coinciding reports of attacks in the days preceding them. Always a similar story, late at night, didn’t see the attacker, and bite wounds on various parts of the body such as the arm, shoulder, or even neck. The other thing they had in common, were the victims were found in drunken stupors. Was it a coincidence? What was another coincidence, is after the first victim, the rest were all what police classified as problems. With or without quirks, they were bad men who had lists of crimes under their belts. That meant whatever was causing the attacks now appeared to have a specific target.

Bakugou stood in the Ena township police station, tapping his foot to release some of the pent-up energy. “Yesterday,” he questioned the desk sergeant, “are you telling me that attack was just yesterday evening?”

The man nodded. “The victim is still in the hospital being treated for low blood levels. They’ve had to keep him sedated through the IV infusions because he wouldn’t stop screaming about a man with green eyes.”

“And there’s no other incidences?” The officer shook his head. “That means the attacker could still be here.”

“Wait, do you know who it is?”

Bakugou shook his head no. He wasn’t about to tell some beat cop who he suspected it could be. “It’s just based off the pattern I’ve been tracking. There are usually a few attacks over the spans of one to three days, and then they just end. So, if this was the first, it means there will be more.”

After speaking with the cops and getting a map for the area of the latest attack, Bakugou staked out the scene. There are no traces left behind to say who or what had caused the attacks, but what he did notice of the area is it was a seedy side of town. The victim said he’d been pulled off the main street into an adjoining alley way around 1 am, too quickly to even get a scream out. He remembered the time because the bar he’d just left had hit its closing time. The alley was narrow, and empty save for a few dumpsters for neighboring shops, no doorways or lighting, perfect for hiding in.

‘Tonight, is still a new moon…’ Bakugou noted, which added to the dark cover of night. After his reconnaissance, he went back to his tiny hotel room to get a few hours of sleep. It was going to be a long night.

It was a decision he didn’t know if he would come to regret someday, but in the end, the blonde hero realized that his flashier costume would make him stand out way too easily. So, after foregoing his costume, Bakugou dressed all in black for the undercover work. He climbed to the roof of a building, dead center of the area the attacker might choose in the hopes that the green lightning seen by eyewitnesses will be the tell-tale sign he’ll be able to use to track the person. Patience wasn’t exactly his virtue, but it was the only way he was gonna catch the guy.

The first night’s stakeout yielded nothing. No sightings, no attacks. Which could mean anything or nothing. Previous attacks didn’t always take place every night in a row, but it could also mean the attacker had moved on. Did they catch-wind of him being there and fled? Damn he hoped not! This was the closest he’d come to catching up to the green lightning! Two nights later, Bakugou was growing disillusioned. Every day he checked back with the authorities to make sure no other sightings had been made in town or in surrounding cities, and with the answer being ‘no’ each time, there was a small glimmer of hope he was still in the right place at the right time.

But as he laid on a rooftop on the night of day 4, a lot of thoughts were plaguing him because there was nothing to do while waiting but think. Sometimes he would run the events of that AFO fight though his mind trying to remember any little details that may help him. Other times, it would be about Midoriya and what could have possibly made the man run off like this. Those thought’s either left him broken or wanting to strangle the guy for causing them so much pain. Midoriya better damn well be ready to do a hell of a lot of apologizing to their friends and family!

Bakugou grimaced at the last thought. Such personal emotions he would rather lock away into some box deep within the recesses of his soul than to admit the truth. He told himself he was doing this for their friends. He tried to convince himself that he was doing this for aunty Inko and to make All Might proud. These were a part of the search, yes… but not the full reason. The blonde had to admit he missed the stupid nerd. Midoriya was his childhood friend, and no matter how much shit he gave the guy, he was the one person he could count on. He was still determined to beat the mouse and become the Number one hero… but he was also proud of how far Midoriya had come in the last three years. It would be a shame for it all to be thrown away now.

Just as he was ready to call it a night, Bakugou heard a muffled scream from a nearby street. He rushed over as quickly as possible, racing into the alley way just as the unconscious victim’s body is being laid down. Bloody hell he was right all along!

“DEKU?!”

All he could see was the person’s back, but he’d know those red shoes anywhere. The mousy green hair looked even wilder than normal. Midoriya still had on his costume, but it was torn up with a raggedy cloak swaddling his upper body. Simply put, his friend looked like a homeless man off the streets. The figure froze for a second, then without turning to face off against Bakugou immediately flashed with green and took off into the sky. Green lightning!

“DEKU YOU, FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!” Bakugou blasted off after the man. Damn it, his gear would have helped with the propulsion! He couldn’t remember him being so quick before, what the hell was going on? Midoriya was streaking away, zigzagging along roof tops, and heading towards a section of industrial warehouses. If it wasn’t for the quirks electrical output to tell him where to go, he could easily lose sight in the darkness.

He gritted his teeth and pushed his quirk to its limit. There was no way Bakugou was going to screw up this opportunity. So, if he couldn’t catch up, he could knock the nerd out of the sky! “ARRGHH!!!” He sent repeated AP-Auto shots towards Midoriya at medium power, growing angrier as the man dodged the first few volleys. “THAT’S IT!!!!” In his rage, Bakugou increased the spread like buck shots of crackling fire ringing around the fleeing figure, and he kept up the pace in rapid succession.

“AHHHHH!”

The scream pierced the night and Bakugou saw several hits knock the man off course, barreling the body straight for the ground. It wasn’t his intention to hurt, but damn it, Midoriya shouldn’t have run in the first place! He turned on the turbo and reached the man just as he was trying to get back on his feet.

“Don’t fucking think about it!” Bakugou grabbed the man’s shoulder and whipped him around. “Goddamn it Deku! What the fuck is your problem?!”

“K-Kacchan, wh-wh—”

“Don’t you Kacchan me, you bastard!” He gripped tightly so that Midoriya can’t squirm away easily. “Did you think I wouldn’t come looking for you idiot!”

“Yes.”

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Okay, he should be surprised by that answer. When had he ever acted like he cared when it came to Midoriya? But that didn’t mean such a quick and blunt response wouldn’t hit him like a brick to the head. And you know what, he has shown he cared in his own way. Damn it! When has he ever just left the man behind? His fist balled up and cocked back, striking Izuku hard on the chin and sending him back to the ground. “Stupid fuck!” Bakugou spat the words out before dropping to his knees on top of the man. “I ought ‘a beat the crap out of you right now for even thinking that!”

But Midoriya shoved back trying to push the man off. “What the fuck are you talking about?! You don’t give a shit about me, never have! When the hell did you start caring?!” He kicked and twisted, fighting the larger male. “Get the fuck off me! I can’t stay here!”

“You are coming home with me Deku whether you like it or not!”

“NOOOOOO!!!” Midoriya activated his quirk up to 70% and bucked Bakugou off him. “It’s too dangerous, Kacchan just get away from me!” He took a stance to spring himself back into the air, but the blonde scrambled and jumped on top of him, pushing him back to the ground. “Get off, I don’t want to hurt you!” Midoriya screamed. This was getting out of control. Exhausting so much energy on Bakugou was stirring up his hunger and if that happened, he didn’t know if he could control himself.

“What the fuck ya gonna do, drink my blood too? What the hell is going on with you Deku?! Goddamn it tell me what the fuck happened in that forest!”

“Y-You know about that?”

“How do you think I tracked your ass down?!”

The pain is his stomach was rising fast. Midoriya winced as the rush of blood sounded off in his ears and other tell-tale signs progressively made its entrance. This was not good! “Kacchan please,” his voice whined and pleaded through the aching throb in his core, “let me go before something happens.”

“I don’t care what it takes Deku, I can’t lose you again.”

“I-I’m so sorry Kacchan.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen as he saw a dark red sheen enveloping the whites of Midoriya’s eyes. Is this what happened when he’d attacked all those men?

Every last nerve was fighting against control. It was an option Midoriya didn’t want to use, but if he could control it just a little longer, all he wanted to do was give himself a head start. “Please,” he begged one more time, “just forget about me Kacchan.”

“Get it through your fucking head! I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!”

That was the last thing Bakugou remembered…

[friggsdc]

Title: little delinquent pt iv

part iii | part iv

Warnings: Female!reader (bat!sis), mostly plot with family fluff, AU, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4600~

Synop: It had Bruce and Dick sharing a look for a moment before the latter spoke up, “It’s not like I’m against continuing to expand the family, but…” he eyed the child you held nervously, “please don’t start bringing home every child you find…” he tilted his head, “he’s bad enough.” Bruce settled a light glare at his first son (that definitely wasn’t what Bruce was thinking), though Dick was stilled by the way your eyes narrowed at him instead.

“His name is Terrence,” that was all you said, brushing past as they were suddenly on guard at the inherited Wayne-scowl on your face.

---

 A/N: ee;;;; enjoy me not knowing what this plot is, idk tbh, but it’s fun to write. It’s more plot than fluff, which wasn’t what i meant to write sighs. I’ll probably write companion pieces to this that’s zero plot all fluff. The plot wasn’t meant to be so deep, but I mean, uhm… enjoy papa Bruce and mama Alfred~ 

---

[bigR] Dad’s upset.

[bigR] He’s talking less than usual, not even grunts.

[bigR] I think he’s ignoring me?

[you] crap

[bigR] Worse, there’s no news.

No news? True, you hadn’t seen the info feeds light up, the networks had been offline all day, but nothing from Tim’s side? If you didn’t hate Luthor before, well…

[you] this is giving me a headache ::dizzy_emoji::

[bigR] No kidding, I think he’s figuring a few things out.

[bigR] Patrol with B, everything’s unlocked, bb @ late.

[you] is typing…

             “You sure it’s okay?”

The taller male gave quite the toothy grin, a large hand coming up to pull the awkwardly fitted shirt collar back to center, admiring your new outfit. “You can just bring it back later, besides, I think it’s cuter this way.” After a few hours and an incredibly long phone call between Jason, Tim and yourself, the three of you combined were able to get the suit to come off. 

Tim said he still had a lot to go over, but that the laptop was actually incredibly useful. Much of what Tim had been talking (and geeking) about had been lost on Jason and you, too focused on Terry and wrangling the alien suit off.

Jason said he’d be jealous of the strange futuristic-like material if it weren’t for the second skin-like fit, happily poking fun at Nightwing’s taste in suits.

Most of the work was done on Tim’s side since he apparently already had the ability to take control of the suit. It was something you were rather… anxious about, but unlike the manor, Jason’s place had the advantage of no Bruce and no cameras.

So now you sat in the same pair of pants you’d come over in, the only pair of flip-flops he had. They were far too large for you, but your toes would have to hang on till home, and a large t-shirt that fit well enough. 

“Muscle up, Buttercup” was written on the front, Superman’s flexed arm between the words.

“Your taste in clothes is…”

“Cheap. Like second-hand cheap.”

“But… why…”

“To spite Bruce? I pay more for job-related injuries than money I actually have, it’s been tempting me to go back to crime, honestly.”

“…you sure that’s not to spite Bruce as well?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, an impish grin on his face as he lightly ruffled the top of your hair, causing you to childishly swat his hand away, “isn’t that what everyone else does? It’s fun, you should try it sometime.”

“Uh-huh…” you were honestly too much of a—

“Daddy’s girl,” he snorted lightly, unimpressed.

Before slipping one of Jason’s unused backpacks on, you stuffed the batsuit in the bottom, and the jacket you arrived in on top. Turning just in time to see him picking up Terrence’s sleeping form with incredible gentleness, you cooed lightly.

“You know, you’re not bad at that,” he looked at you, frowning, ears flushing before his attention went back to the bundle in his arms.

“Not even…” instead of moving to take the child from him, you opted to stand still and just watch the interaction instead, as if a point were being made.

Big boy looked like he was terrified of breaking the child in his arms, like an heirloom British teacup, “You look cute like that, a giant teddy bear and a tiny uh... new bat?” Walking over, he turned his eyes to the side, not a single trace of anger towards the situation in his voice anymore, “don’t get used to it,” he muttered, unsure of himself. “But you could get used to it,” you smiled, taking the giant marshmallow from him, “he’ll be around from now on, you know. You’ll have uncle duties~” Your teasing only increased his rising timidness, “right…”

“Well,” he began, heading to the door once you had everything, “I’m already late for patrol, let’s get you home.”

-

Alfred had greeted you at the door and mentioned putting on some tea, and you gladly accepted, though not before you went up and changed. With the promise to be back downstairs in a few minutes, he took Terrence from you to ready him for bed. Adorable child was actually quite active, having tired himself out at Jason’s temporary housing.

Quickly, you’d headed to Tim’s room to empty the contents of your bag in his faraday cage, hoping that it was secure enough being in his room. Once you’d locked the safe’s door, you headed out of his room and down the hall to your own. Sorry Jay, but the shoes were uncomfortable, and the shirt kept trying to strangle you more than the shirt of a giant should. Pajamas sounded wonderful right now.

The now empty backpack was tossed to the side near where Duke had left the your clothes from earlier in the day, and a few immediate items for Terrence. You figured everything else was probably in the nursery now, hoping it was all waiting for you in the next few days. The awkward clothes you’d worn over the suit had been tossed on your day clothes, and then Jason’s shirt and shoes were dropped on top.

The shower was quick, and having changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, you suddenly felt sluggish, your shoulders now heavy with tightness. Come to think of it, your thighs also felt rather wobbly, like jelly… but the only strenuous activity you can remember doing in all honesty was… base jumping… was it the wings? It’s all you could honestly come up with. Maybe you weren’t used to such a thing yet, and as you rubbed your shoulders, you headed back downstairs to the sitting room. “Nn…”

“Sore?”

It was still too early for anyone scary to be home right now, so…

You nodded, collapsing on the small sitting couch, Alfred going to stand from his seat to fix you a cup of tea from the tray on the table. “I did a dumb thing today. I’m not certain if I regret it or not.” He handed you the tea plate and cup before returning to his original position on a rather regal looking chair, “I’ve already put the Little Master to bed for the evening. The Young Masters went to bed awhile ago, though I suspect, they are not, actually sleeping.” He gave an amused hum at the thought of Damian and Jon and what they were totally not doing. 

He definitely hadn’t noticed when they’d snuck out earlier. Nope, not at all.

It was a long day filled with heightened emotions, anxiety, stress, confusion, and at the end of it, you were just so tired, and Alfred had always been your confidant next to Tim, and—

You tried to keep quiet as you spoke.

“I jumped out of a really tall building. Like… ninety feet up? I’m not certain, I was watching my life flash before my eyes.” He sighed and frowned into his own tea, “Master Bruce has already left for the night, Master Tim is accompanying him, as the boys are… supposed to be here for a night off. I really had hoped you’d grown up to be more intelligent and not as reckless as your brothers.” Or your father, Alfred mused, sipping at his tea, pinky out, the proper macaroni gentlebutler he was.

“I mean, I panicked, I was in a batsuit, I had a lot of intel on me, like, literally stole a laptop and backed up something called Project B (whatever that meant, though you had your suspicions having met Conner), there was a ton of guards outside going from door to door… I don’t have the same muscle mass to fight like my militant brothers, I was scared of what would happen if they caught me, like dad’s reputation?, I may have been overwhelmed by the—”

“—batsuit?” Ah, you looked up from your tea with wide eyes to see him staring, uncertain if the twinkle in his eye was worry or mischief. “Yeah, that. Uhm… Please don’t tell dad,” you sat up straight, gave him your biggest crocodile tears, and were about to clasp your hands together like a beggar before he waved your antics off. “I would not, not unless it endangers your life, Young Miss, you know that. Including young Master Terrence, of course.”

“This afternoon I must ponder over, What you did was, how shall I say, not okay,” he spoke, stern.

He stood to walk over, seating himself next to you while smiling gently, “though I must admit, I am quite curious as to the story behind all of this.” You gave your own small smile as you stared at your tea, “Yeah. I still don’t know all of it yet, myself, but… it’s actually really cool…” The two of you spoke in hushed tones.

Bruce may have been your father, but much like him, you were raised by Alfred, and seeing as you usually weren’t allowed out on the field like the others, your disposition was as Alfred’s was; support. It was something your brothers and father relished in when they had any extra time over the years. You loved to spoil them, and they were readily eager for it. 

It was also thanks to Alfred that you’d learned you had a unique knack for espionage.

Your brothers were raised to protect themselves and others, getting to go out nightly on risky (and deadly) vigilantism escapades. More than that, they not only got to be of use to your father, but they were able to grow up around him, their lives dedicated to the same purpose.

To say you were jealous was an understatement, often worrying Dick and Jay at times.

To say you were your father’s daughter and just as like-minded as him was also an understatement. This was something Tim and Damian understood better than your two eldest siblings.

You were determined as heck.

You graduated from avoiding Alfred’s detection to stalking your father and brothers, skills honed even further as you learned how to use their toys and listen in on their coms system. It was your father’s own fault, leaving you alone all the time.

You would never be useless again.

You would never be left behind again.

“So, your brothers are helping you, then? I am glad of that, it means I need not worry as much,” even though Jason and Damian only knew half the truth, it was Tim who knew everything you did. Duke didn’t want to know and apparently Jon’s dad had warned him not to get involved with “bat business,” and Alfred… “If… If Terry’s parents…” how were you supposed to frame this part, exactly? You ere bothered by the truth of it, so... maybe making it sound worse than it was? If that was even possible... “if they were bad people, like really bad people,” as if suddenly remembering the walls had ears, you lowered your head and voice, barely audible for him to hear, “do you think dad would let me keep him?”

The both of you knew that wasn’t the issue, Bruce had no problem with the child staying, but…

There was something about the boy that seemed to be worrying you…

“If there is one thing I take great pleasure and joy in,” Alfred beamed like the proud father he was, “it’s that at least one of you children turned out more like myself than Master Bruce.” No, honestly, he was so glad you weren’t gloom and doom like your father and siblings, “I’m certain you could tame the wildest of beasts.”

His parentage held no ground here, the two of you understood the meaning behind the words, memories of when Damian met you for the first time after arriving at the manor surfacing, “I think you’ll do just fine with the child. I have all the confidence in the world.”

Maybe you were being overly paranoid about the whole situation.

The evening was finished in comfortable companionship between the two of you, and he’d shoo you away to bed long before it was time for the boys to come home.

After cleaning up and assuring himself that at least someone in the manor went to bed properly, he busied himself with the surveillance of the manor.

He made certain you wouldn’t be caught just because of his curiosities.

-

Through part of the night, you’d begun doing as much research into the relationship between Luthor and CADMUS as you had time for, the past few days having been spent going over only CADMUS information. That was until you got a ping on Luthor’s name written on several specific checks, and gathering as much information available. You looked for key phrases in the news cycle over the past day’s incident, as well as dating back several months. You’d even taken the chip out of your work phone and popped it into the laptop sitting on the bed in front of you, allowing network protocols to take over.

There was only so much the news would give you, so you checked in on security feeds from the area, keywords during phone calls used to see if anyone noticed, satellite intel snapshots, everything. Anything.

The time-sensitive channels still hadn’t opened, no information from other informants was anywhere in the Societies channel logs, not even the time-delayed backlogs.

Someone else was cleaning up.

-

Early morning, the best time to avoid anyone in the manor who had a night life, also just in time to get breakfast as Alfred made the first batch of the day. Though mostly for himself, he’d generally make extras as you’d often join. Heading down the foyer stairs, Terry’s barely conscious form bundled in your arms, you beelined to the kitchen, the smell your guide. “Ah, good morning Young Miss! I even made some for the Little Master, just in case,” Alfred smiled down at the boy in your arms, holding up a small bowl of minced and steamed veggies.

The kitchen was large for an older-modeled mansion, constantly rebuilt with minimal changes, but still cozy and incredibly sustainable. Between the door to the foyer and the opposite wall, where the door to the dining room was, there was a large table. Several shopping lists, foodstuffs, and cookware took up a good portion, but there as still enough room for a small few people to sit comfortably at once.

You smiled, sitting down in the chair the older male pulled out for you, then pushing you in, food for the child set on the table. You situated Terry in your arms, finding a nice spot to rest his bottom without worry of him slipping off, and reached over to spoon some of his meal to him.

Strangely, he didn’t resist much, yawning in between bites as you had to scoop up what tried to spill out of his mouth, “so, how old might you say he is? I’ve been thinking about it, perhaps about a year?” you nodded as you looked up, agreeing with Alfred as he sat down, food cooking behind him in the meantime. “I think… if not that, maybe a few months younger… he can stand, and seems okay with soft solids… I think you’re right, maybe a year?” his clothing size certainly seemed to think the same, Duke having gone to extreme lengths to get a perfectly fitted wardrobe for the boy. He even included a few different larger sizes for the coming year as well.

“Hm…” Alfred leaned on his crossed arms, rested on the table as he eyed the boy, “I suppose we could begin early development lessons with him, signing especially, but I think he can do more, words, possibly.” In response, Terry sneezed, food spraying all over the spoon and bowl in front of the two of you, his eyes still groggy as he slumped in your hold. “Oh dear,” Alfred hummed in amusement, standing to bring you a small terrycloth towel to clean up.

Terry gave a small grunt as he pushed at the cloth now cleaning his face.

“Gonna… Gonna have to get used to that…” the suddenness surprised you, you knew it was a normal human function, but you just hadn’t… expected it.

“I think there will be a great many things for you to get used to from now on, even I will have to relearn a few things. It’s been… a very long time since an infant was in this home.” He went back to finishing his and your meal, a nostalgic and wistful look masking his face. Bruce had no idea what to do with you when you were an infant handed over to him, and it amused Alfred to this day.

Thinking about it, you looked down at Terry, your chin coming to hover over his head, almost as if you were trying to nuzzle him, loud enough for only him to hear, “…mama. S… Say mama.” The child just tilted his head and cooed at you instead, reaching up to pull at your hair again ohdeargodpleasestop.

Releasing your hair from the child’s grasp and holding both of his hands in yours this time, you tried once more, “mama.”

“Mmba,” he blew a raspberry at you as he slurred his speech, becoming more fascinated with the bubbles he blew than your inquiries. “Mm… bah.” He let out a giggle, popped his lips at you and then smiled, trying, and failing thanks to your hold, to reach for your hair again. After several attempts, he settled for turning slightly, resting his head on your chest as he watched Alfred and all of the very shiny cookware.

You flushed, wanting to beam but also feeling incredibly self-conscious about the situation still, it was honestly a lot to get used to. Frowning in determination at the snuggly bug of a child, you tried a different tactic this time, “ma.” He was still more interested in the food being cooked, however, and you heaved a sigh into his head of hair. “Mma,” well, it was a start, and you repeated your previous chant of mama to him, your own eyes wide with what felt like pride.

Was this how Alfred felt?

“Mmba.” Well, as you said, it was a start. With a sigh, you went back to shoving food in his mouth, though quickly you had to wrangle the spoon from his mouth each time. “Stop… biting it, Terry…” you wondered how Conner had gotten so smart in such a short amount of time, wondering if Terry had still been too young when you took him from the bio labs at CADMUS.

“Ah, good morning Sir,” Alfred greeted, and your head shot up to see your father standing in the doorway, bags under his eyes and a yawn hidden behind the back of his hand. “Good morning, Alfred,” he stared at the older man with a frown, obviously trying not to say something. Instead, he looked at you and the child for a long moment, giving both of you a morning greeting. And even though Terry couldn’t properly respond, he did give Bruce the same challenging look as the last time.

He was looking for something out of the ordinary, however, the only thing in the room that was new was Terry, nothing else seemed to be amiss. But you could tell, looking up at him from the corner of your eyes, head still downturned, he was searching.

“Morning dad…” you tried to be light as you smiled at him, nothing is wrong.

“Daah,” Terry tried imitating, but it was lost in the rest of his babbling as he grabbed the food from the spoon. He was making another mess as he shoved it in his mouth, fingers fiddling around tongue and mushy carrots. Thankfully you still had the terrycloth to wipe at his chubby cheeks.

Bruce’s footsteps were as silent as his entrance, stopping next to you and squatting down, large hand, warm and gentle, landing on Terry’s head as he ruffled his hair, “I’d like to talk to you downstairs soon, okay?” He studied Terry for a moment, eyes as brilliant as his own, though it seemed like Bruce almost enjoyed the small head of hair in his palm. You couldn’t tell beyond the awkward chill in the air, but the two of them were giving each other knowing looks, both challenging, though Bruce couldn’t understand why Terry looked at him that way.

He made to stand up, pulling his hand away before Terry could do any damage, cheeks puffing out in a pout. “There’s something I’d like you to look into,” he spoke as he headed back towards the door, a morning coffee handed to him by Alfred, “oh, and you’re not allowed to leave the grounds for the time being. The tracker seems to be faulty.”

Considering you broke them often over the years, well, yeah, of course it was faulty.

Again.

The smile he gave you before he left was smug and you weren’t completely certain as to why, and it was making you really really nervous, “the League computers picked up something quite interesting yesterday.”

“Uh…” Ah yeah. Well heck.

Yeah, metropolis was both a huge risk AND your last outing, you were glad you took the chance though, even if your stunt escalated the situation. You were now officially on house arrest by the most observant secret-wannabe cop in the world.

Then again, there was no telling exactly what he knew.

He might be bluffing.

“Maaam… ah…” Huh? Did he just… Quickly as if borrowed from the speed force, your thoughts of Bruce and the problems at hand seemed to flee as you beamed at Terry. “Mama?”

“Mamhh.”

-

[bigR] Was able to give the drive a quick look.

[bigR] I don’t understand villains. I just don’t.

The hell did that mean?

[steph] c u soon <33

Ah, crap.

-

The table before Bruce had only a few pieces of paper and only two photos. You’d come home nearly a week ago with a new addition to the family, from where he still wasn’t certain. He’d checked and there’d been no missing infant reports that matched up with him, both in looks and location. Tim seemed to be in on it, hiding secrets along with you, and holding back when Bruce would inquire about anything even remotely familiar to the situation. Tim had also been keeping busy with something the past few days, and ever since you’d come home from shopping, he seemed unable to stay still, constantly fidgeting.

Then there was yesterday, when Duke took you out shopping with the boys while Batman had been at the Womb at the League’s watchtower, digging up as much as he could. Which, unfortunately, was just the few scraps of confusing ledes in front of him. The annoying part is how well you avoided the cameras, there were only a few times where he had been able to make you out, the rest he had to guess based on your profile that day.

The subsequent events had started stacking up in a rather annoying fashion. Your tracker’d been broken since you gave everyone a scare a week ago, returning with a child in your arms and something akin to paranoia. Even Tim had been clueless (until he wasn’t), and now even his attitude was giving Bruce pause. It felt more unnerving than bad, something making Bruce’s own stomach knot when he kept coming up with dead ends.

The day you’d gone shopping, the Womb had picked up something the news hadn’t, as the news was calling it nothing more than an accident, and it was that that gave Bruce even more pause. The worst part is that he couldn’t just take a deep dive into the LexCorp building’s system, knowing that much was out of their (or his) hands.

If Cyborg found out that Batman was secretly looking into a non-incident on the League system for family-related business, then he’d never hear the end of it from Superman and the others. He’d have to go out of his way to get into the building, and right now wasn’t the best time to do so, security was increased ten-fold. He’d have to wait it out.

LexCorp wasn’t even reporting it as an incident themselves, but the fact that they were being very stringent about the details, the increase in surveillance, Bruce felt it in his gut; an obvious coverup. The problem was why, there was no way what had happened had been anything short of problematic for Lex, and yet they weren’t filing any kind of paperwork.

They did their best to act as if they didn’t care, but Batman saw all the extra measures, and he also saw the information black hole happening.

LexCorp, no doubt, was scrubbing.

What he had been able to do, however, was gather two snapshots of a black blur that sped out of the building before disappearing into the thick of the city below.

About the same area where Damian’s own tracker took a detour.

“I preferred it when you used to use electrical tape to tape a transceiver blocker to your arm to hide the trackers,” Bruce hadn’t looked up as you approached (and you were dang silent too, even Terry was being chill), “It was much less of a headache.”

“Yeah, but that was when I was a kid. Nothing I do now can hide me from you anymore, the technology is different from back then.”

“Except breaking it.”

“Except that.”

He snorted as you stopped at the table, situating Terry on your hip, and looked down at the photograph that Bruce pushed over to you. It took every bit of training not to give anything away as you picked the photo up and gave it a once-over.

“This is…?” you turned your head to see him with that smug smile from before, tapping the image in your hand with his finger, “this is what I want you to look into.” You would have bristled if you hadn’t known your father better, this was some kind of trap.

“The same day you headed off to Metropolis, intriguingly enough, the LexCorp building had a break-in,” he paused to gather more words, rolling them around on his tongue before swallowing them, I’m worried, and you’re the reason.

“A break-in? I hadn’t heard—”

“No, you wouldn’t have. LexCorp seems to be keeping it from the public knowledge.”

“Then the League computers?”

“Was able to take a few photos from another satellite, these two were the best ones I could find. One of whatever broke in as it took off flying, and another of the same building a few minutes after. No police, no fire crews, nothing.” He was watching your reactions like a hawk, unfortunately you’d played this game so often growing up (learning to lie and stay out of trouble was a skill your brothers and you freaking perfected, even if they got into trouble on purpose), that it was really very easy to just—

“Uhm, but… dad, how? You grounded me, remember? That makes gathering any kind of intel like, y’know, hard.”

The smug smile was back as he pointed at the rather established medical area, the two of you heading over together, “you’re the information broker, I’m sure you can find something useful. It’s not the first time you’ve had to gather information from behind bars, after all,” you really hated how he still felt compelled to remind you of that.

It was once, in a country where no one knew you and where records were shoddy at best.

And on purpose, dangit.

You still weren’t certain how he even found out, besides, he and your brothers had done worse by comparison.

As he began removing the old tracker, you ignored the pain, the lack of anesthetic nothing new to you, too used to it at this point. Not that it was terribly painful. He was precise in skill, second to Alfred, you were too preoccupied with keeping the child still in your lap to notice what he’d been doing prior to your arrival.

All jokes aside, he’d finally gotten ahold of something that could yield actual results.

He looked to the boy again, staring at his familiar features, at his hair, like midnight, “striking how much he looks like us.” You frowned at him.

It was a statement.

The joke wasn’t lost on him.

Or on you.

[animalinvestigator]

I think I said this in the notes once lol but I love Radical Face and Electric President so much!! I’ve never seen anyone else who has listened to any!! Do you have favorite songs?

yes, i love ben coopers work so much! n_n i have so many favorites it would be hard to list.. i think my favorite album of his is electric president s/t , every song on there has become extremely special to me even though ive only known it for a short time (favorites are definitely good morning hypocrite some crap about the future and farewell though) , but i also really like a lot of the songs off of the violent blue (espescially circles and mr. gone) my favorite radical face album is sooo hard to pick because i honestly think all of the family tree albums couldnt really be ranked, they're all so remarkable and special i ntheir own ways.. i feel like the roots is most iconic but the branches probably has the most hard hittign shti on it so its a tie up with those two for me, but of course i love the leaves and the bastards soooooo much too. (nightclothes is one of my favorite songs ever) in terms of favorite radical face songs a couple of mine are secrets cellar door rivers in the dust family portrait black eyes severus and stone always gold bad blood holy branches the mute and from the mouth of an injured head....I like basically all of htem so much.

i also really love the little singles he's been doing lately : ) im so excited to see waht his next project is

[kiras-sunshine]

Beside you in a blinding bliss

Tarlos. 4.4k

For: 911 couple’s retreat  (@911CouplesRetreat) day 1 “you have never looked more beautiful” + hurt/comfort

Summary:

He places it on the floor, near his shin. The fake flame flickers a little, but it is dim, and it certainly doesn’t illuminate the bathroom.

“Now it’s an anniversary,” TK remarks, softly, with a tiny sigh.

ao3

or

**

author’s note: this includes slight descriptions of puking

***

The room spins as Carlos attempts to move and he has to grab the edge of the bathtub to steady himself. He is already sitting on the floor, but even the smallest movement makes spots appear in the corner of his vision and he has to take a couple of deep breaths to get rid of them.

He feels ridiculously weak, and the bathroom smells awful. He cannot get rid of the reeking, even though he has flushed the toilet multiple times since puking his insides out, and he just wants to curl up in a ball and forget the whole day.

The nausea still wallows threateningly in the pit of his stomach, but he isn’t convinced that the guilt wouldn’t be overpowering the waves of nausea.

TK didn’t seem angry or disappointed when he found him puking in the bathroom. If anything, he was just concerned and worried about him. Carlos cannot really blame him, he would probably have the same reaction if it was the other way around, but Carlos cannot help but feel like he has let him down.

It’s their first anniversary, and they actually had plans. Nothing too fancy, but they had a dinner reservation to a place they have meant to try for ages, and he had done the reservation months ago. Sure, it is only a dinner, but it is more about the meaning the date holds rather than about the food.

TK deserves the world, he knows that much and it’s ridiculous and slightly stupid, but he just wanted to give him a nice, stress-free evening and celebrate their love, but apparently even that proved to be too difficult.  

Work was plain terrible. They were understaffed and the whole shift was filled with a call after a call, and he didn’t really have a time to sit down and eat lunch, so he grabbed a sandwich from a food truck and he knew it tasted funny, but he didn’t have time to dwell on the thought too long because the dispatch sent them to another scene.

With his luck, he ended up with a food poisoning.

At least, that is his best guess. He felt a little off when he left the precinct and by the time he got home, the nausea was too strong to keep bottled up inside, and since that he has spent most of the afternoon camping out at the bathroom floor.

Carlos sincerely hopes it is a food poisoning because it could mean he would feel better quicker and the last thing he wants to do is to pass on some stomach bug to TK. It would be a terrible gift as far as anniversary gifts go.

Carlos tries to suppress a yawn and for a moment, he ponders whether he could just lie down and fall asleep on the floor. It feels like every ounce of energy would have been drained out of him, and somehow, even sitting up seems to require too much currently.

His mind definitely feels a little hazy and he knows exhaustion is taking over, but he is almost sure he hears the front door open and close. Despite everything, it makes him smile. It helps to know that he isn’t alone.

A few moments pass before he hears the bathroom door crack open, and TK appears to the bathroom. He is carrying a grocery store plastic bag and Carlos is happy to see him again, but his stomach lurches with guilt as he sees the concern shining in his eyes.

“Your beloved car survived without a scratch,” TK tells him, in apparent form of greeting, as he sits right next to him on the floor without any hesitation. He leans against the bathtub and glances at him, but he presses a kiss on his temple.

Carlos flashes him a lopsided and quick smile.

TK’s driving skills are infamous among the 126, even if they let him drive the ambulance nowadays. Judd sent him a lot of pictures of the destroyed traffic cones when he tried to teach TK to drive the ladder truck. TK himself sent him pictures of the battered rear end of the truck.

Despite all of that, Carlos has always let him drive the Camaro when he has needed it, but still TK immediately took it as some sort of highest form of trust. Carlos does trust him, with everything and anything, so it is not unwarranted of him to think that way, but TK has developed the habit of declaring, after every time he has driven, that his car still remains un-crashed.

“And you?” Carlos asks, hoarsely.

“What?”

“I care a lot more if you survived without a scratch,” Carlos points out, kindly. It feels like an obvious thing to say, but he likes to remind him of it, anyway. He has to close his eyes for a moment because the room spins a little.

Any reluctance he might have towards letting him drive is because he only worries that TK will get himself hurt. But he has seen him drive, he isn’t that bad at it. He just has an unorthodox way of reversing.

“I did,” TK confirms with warm laughter, “I mean I only visited pharmacy and the supermarket.”

Carlos had every intention of texting TK that he wasn’t feeling well when he first got home, but he never got around to do it, and when TK arrived back to the apartment from his own shift, he gave him a full check-up before darting to buy some medicine that would make him feel better and stomach-friendly foods.

“You once got kidnapped from a parking lot,” he mumbles. Moving feels awful, but he rests his head against TK’s shoulder because holding his head up on his own feels impossibly tiring.

“True,” TK says, but his voice softens as he continues, “how are you feeling?”

“Like dying.”

It feels like an honest answer. It is only maybe a tiny bit of exaggeration, but he feels miserable. His stomach aches and cramps, and it is hard to focus on anything else except the nausea. Carlos lifts his hand a little, but as soon as he moves it, it starts to shake.

TK’s fingers immediately curl around his shaking hand and it almost makes it stop. He holds it firmly, but still gently and places their intertwined hands at Carlos’ lap.

Logically, he knows that handholding cannot cure nausea, but it almost feels like it. Feeling the touch of his skin helps him to focus on something else. His touch is almost like a concrete proof that he is not alone and that whatever he is feeling will pass, sooner or later.

TK lets out a sympathetic hum, and his hand feels almost too warm against his. “No dying on my watch, but you do look like crap.”

Carlos snorts. “I guess we’re officially out of the honeymoon stage.”

He means it as a joke, even though his voice comes out a little meek. In all honesty, he has no idea where the end or beginning of their honeymoon stage would lie. He still gets goddamn butterflies in his stomach when TK even as much as smiles at him, and he is probably more in love than ever.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful,” TK replies, and his voice is light and teasing, but it doesn’t sound like a complete joke to his ears, even though it must be.  

Carlos can imagine the way he is looking. He looked pale already in the locker room of the precinct and he knows he is drenched in sweat. Generally, he feels gross. It still feels like a small miracle that TK is willing to sit pressed next to him, kissing his head and holding his hand, without any complaints.

“That’s the spirit,” he manages to crook out before his stomach lurches and he has to puke again.

The sudden movement makes him dizzy and the taste in his mouth is bitter and awful. It sort of feels like he couldn’t breath properly and he is gasping for air, but TK is rubbing his shoulders in a soothing manner and it helps a little to keep the panic at the bay.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “just breath. You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

He isn’t sure if he loathes more the feeling of sickness or the fact that TK has to be there to witness it. If there is ever anyone in front of whom he has allowed himself to feel weak, it is TK, but he still cannot shake the uneasiness of being so helpless and small in front of him. He is also willing to bet that TK sees a lot grosser things at work on weekly basis, but that doesn’t mean he should witness it from him.

Carlos doesn’t really trust his voice to answer, so he just nods. He wants to believe that and as he catches his breath, he, at least temporarily, feels slightly better.

TK is still stroking his back.  “Have you drunk anything?”

“No.”

He didn’t even manage to drink a gulp of water when he ate that damn sandwich before they were sent to another scene.

Carlos turns around again, placing himself back to the familiar spot against the bathtub. TK studies him with his gaze for a moment before he pulls a bottle of water out of the plastic bag. He hands it to him, and the bottle feels lukewarm in his hands.

“Try to drink a little bit, okay? If it feels bad or you cannot keep it down, I can hook you into an IV bag of saline. If you want to.”  

His voice is soft and sincere, and full of concern, and Carlos cannot tell exactly how serious he is with his offer. All he knows that his first-aid kit has gone through a proper upgrade since TK started at his new job and he wouldn’t be that surprised if they had the equipment for simple infusion, too.

“I don’t think a food poisoning requires a paramedic,” he replies, slightly tentatively because he doesn’t want him to take it the wrong way. He opens the water bottle with shaky hands and takes a small sip out of it.

“Too bad that you’re dating one,” he remarks, but he watches him like a hawk as he keeps slowly drinking the water. “If the water’s fine, then you can take some electrolyte pills with it. They should help too.”

He lets out a non-committal grunt. Carlos doesn’t exactly mind that he is taking care of him. He rather likes it, and it makes him feel loved, but he doesn’t want to burden him after the twenty-hour shift he has just pulled off. “No need to bring work to home.”

TK stares at him for a moment. He squints his eyes a little as he tilts his head to the side. He opens his mouth but abruptly closes it again. “You--,” he starts, but he ends up shaking his head. “I’m not taking care of you ‘cause of some oath I’ve taken at work. I want to take care of you ‘cause I love you, and that’s really not work.”

Carlos looks down on his own hands, a little abashedly. It’s nothing he wouldn’t know already, but it is still a different thing to hear him say it. He knows TK loves him, he tells him it often enough and he shows it, too. It is almost a tangible thing that he can feel, and his love surrounds him every day, and he had no real doubts he would be doing any of this out of anything else except love. But he has lived most of his adult life alone, and it is difficult to accept help when he is used to managing on his own. He wants to accept it, but he cannot silence the part of his mind that keeps insisting that he is asking for too much.

He bites his bottom lip as he looks back up to TK. “Yeah, okay. I know. I’m glad you’re here.”

TK gives him a small smile, but it is definitely genuine one. It makes a different kind of warmth to spread in his stomach.

“Are we in the realm of possibility of leaving the bathroom?”

“Not really,” Carlos breathes out. He wants to leave the hard and cold floor, and possibly crash into the bed, but all of that feels like a distant wish. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine,” TK reassures, sitting back right next to him. “Nothing wrong with a bathroom.”

“You don’t have to stay here,” he points out, softly. He is a grown adult, and he isn’t in any sort of mortal danger. There is no reason why he couldn’t deal with a food poisoning on his own. Knowing that TK is at home would be more than enough.  “This isn’t really how I imagined our anniversary to be.”

“There’s no way I’d leave you alone when you’re feeling this terrible,” he says, without missing a beat, and he sounds determined, “and I brought something.”

TK rummages through the plastic bag and pulls out something small that looks like plastic. He presses something at the bottom of it and orange light appears in the middle of it. Carlos wants to blame his exhausted and dehydrated brain for taking it so long to realise that TK is holding a led candle in the middle of his palm.

He places it on the floor, near his shin. The fake flame flickers a little, but it is dim, and it certainly doesn’t illuminate the bathroom.

“Now it’s an anniversary,” TK remarks, softly, with a tiny sigh.

Carlos is pretty sure his heart clenches with the love he is feeling. The candle itself is a pathetic sight, but it is the thought of it behind it that makes his heart feel too small for all the love it tries to contain.

“That’s—nice,” he says, little lamely, but he appreciates more than he can tell. His mind is still too foggy to form any more coherent sentences and his head suddenly feels a lot heavier than before.

“I had to improvise,” TK laughs, but he stops quickly when he looks at him. “You want to lay down?”

Carlos manages to nod, and suddenly TK’s hands are on his shoulders and he gently and slowly steers him into lying position, but he places his head on his lap. As soon as he settles there, TK’s fingers are already in his hair and he runs them along his scalp.

“You know, I don’t mind that much that our plans got cancelled,” TK says, softly, breaking the silence after a couple of quiet moments.

“You don’t have to try and make me feel better.”

He already feels miserable enough lying curled up on the bathroom floor and using his boyfriend’s thighs as a pillow. His self-pity is already covering all the pity he needs, and he knows he brought this on himself by eating the sandwich even when his instincts told there was something odd about it.

“I’m not just saying it to make you feel better,” TK huffs, almost amusedly, “of course I hope you’d be able to stand on your feet and not to puke everything out, but we can have dinner some other time.”

Carlos knows he is right. It is already a small miracle that both of them have the evening off, and he guesses the meaning and idea of the anniversary is more important than celebrating it on the actual day.

“Yeah.”

“It’s just a day,” TK says, almost casually.

It is ridiculous, but it breaks Carlos’ heart a little. He knows it is not TK’s fault if he isn’t bothered by the cancellation or if he doesn’t see their anniversary the same way as he does, but he cannot control the pang of hurt it creates.

Carlos knows he might come off as a reserved person, but he has always liked to make a big deal of any sort of celebrations he has shared with his loved ones. His sisters’ and friends’ birthdays. Their high school graduations. All the holidays. His parents’ anniversaries. TK’s one year of sobriety.

He likes making his loved ones happy and sharing happy moments with them and showing by that how much he loves and appreciates them, and just how proud he is of them. TK has always appreciated everything he has planned for him, and he had gone out and the above with Carlos’ birthday and with that horrendous tumour cake for his dad.

And it had been nice, that he had finally met someone who appreciated that side of him, and matched with him and made the similar effort for him, but he should have guessed that at some point, eventually, he and TK would clash on it, too.

He knows TK loves him, and it is not like he would be second-guessing his feelings or commitment, but it feels stupid and selfish to hope that the day that is supposed to be about the two of them would hold more significance for him.

That it wouldn’t be just a day among the rest of them.

If there is a silver lining, it is that his nonchalant reaction is easier to deal with than plain disappointment of their plans being cancelled.

“It is,” he lies, quietly.

TK lets out a heavy sigh. “That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine,” he rushes to murmur.

It is the truth. It feels worse than it actually is because he is already wallowing self-pity, and he knows it will be fine once he manages to sleep through the night and when he doesn’t feel like his stomach is plotting to kill him.

“It’s not fine,” TK insists, accompanied by another sigh, but it is a lot softer this time. “The anniversary, it’s a big deal. Of course it is and I want it to be a big deal. And I don’t want you thinking that it wouldn’t mean a lot to me, because it does.”

Carlos quietly hums as a response because it sounds like TK has something more to say.

“You mean a lot to me, and I’ve been so—happy during this year and so obviously I want to go all out on the celebrations, but just—all I wanted, really, was to spend the day with you, and while this,” he continues softly and vaguely gestures towards the bathroom “wasn’t the plan, I’m still not disappointed. I get to be with you, and I love you as much here as I’d in some fancy restaurant.”

Carlos is certain he is so dehydrated that there is no possible way for him to tear up, but still, as he listens to his quiet rambling, his eyes start to sting. It definitely awakes a whole another twirl of emotions inside of his heart, but this time it is just raw happiness, love and plain affection.

A tiny bit of embarrassment mixes in with it all, because he misinterpreted his words and demeanour, but he wants to blame that on his own insecurities and the food poisoning clouding his mind. But he is still a little bit of in awe because somehow TK knew exactly what he needed to hear, and all of it is just overwhelming.

“The restaurant would probably smell better,” Carlos ends up deadpanning, because he is still a little speechless.

A surprised laughter escapes from TK’s mouth and he shakes his head, but he scrunches his nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And it means a lot to me, too,” he adds with more serious tone.

Carlos has known since the beginning that they share a connection that is special and profound, somehow, and he has wanted him since he saw him, but he is still a little bit in awe that they have made it so far despite their rocky start.

He wants him to know it, too, even if his mind cannot come up with anything too eloquent.

“I know,” TK replies, simply, “and you’re in no shape to go to work tomorrow, so I took a day off too.”

He sounds almost delighted as he declares it.

“You didn’t really have to do that.”

It feels just a bit unfair that TK has to use one of his day offs to take care of him, and only because he ate something that had gone stale.

TK brushes his thumb across his forehead gently. “The twenty-minute trip to the store was nerve-wracking enough, I’m not going to leave you alone for twenty-something hours. And it hardly is your fault that you got food poisoning, babe. It’s just bad luck.”

“I’m not complaining if I get to have you all for myself,” he murmurs as he shifts a little on the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, but surprisingly the wave of nausea never comes. “I don’t know about the fault, but I cannot have that bad luck, I still ended up with you.”

TK laughs, and he is pleased because that is what he was aiming for. His laughter is beautiful, and he always wants to hear it, but right now it is the most soothing sound he could imagine.

“This has nothing do with luck,” TK says, gently, “but I sure feel lucky.”

Carlos just smiles at him.

“We could do new plans tomorrow,” he continues, running his fingertip along his collarbone. “I think we both have next Thursday off?”

Carlos knows that they have been together for a year and that it shouldn’t be too big of a surprise that TK knows his shifts by heart, but it still fills him with particularly fond warmth because they both have irregular shifts, so he has to learn his rooster, on top of his own, every week, and he does it every time.

“I guess we can celebrate our 371 days together too,” Carlos caves in, and through the exhaustion, he can feel the corner of his mouth twitching into a gradual but affectionate smile.

Carlos was never too caught up on the idea of celebrating the anniversary on the exact day, but it could have been nice. He guesses the anniversary is more about what they make it out to be, because after all, it is theirs. And knowing that TK is at least as much into the idea of it, warms his heart a lot.

“Exactly,” TK chuckles, “it will be the best 371-day anniversary you’ve ever had. And we can have dinner today, too, once you’re ready to depart the toilet. I’ll come up with something.”

“Trying to give me a double food poisoning? That’s cold.”

He tries his best not to smile, but it is impossible, and a grin breaks out on his face quickly. TK pretends to be shocked and offended, but his smile persistently stays visible, too, and the softness of his gaze never fades. He nudges him gently with his elbow.

“Hey, you’re on a strict stomach-friendly diet and just for that, I’ll mix the applesauce with the rice.”

Carlos frowns at the mere thought of that.

“The other option is bananas and toast. Mint tea is supposed to help, too.”

His stomach is wallowing still, but he is rather sure that all of that would sound unappetizing, even if he was feeling perfectly fine. He is also aware that he will at least try to eat whatever monstrosity TK comes up with because it is still made by him.

“Sounds—bland.”

“It’s supposed to be,” he remarks, “it won’t be a mind-blowing culinary experience, but when anything I’ve cooked for you would’ve been. The difference is that this time it’s going to help and make you feel better.”

“Thank you,” Carlos whispers, more seriously and sincerely than the situation probably calls for, especially when TK is cracking jokes about his own cooking skills, but he wants him to know he is grateful. More than those two little words can convey.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, “are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, a little,” he lets out a sound that only half-resembles a chuckle. “I’m still sorry I ruined tonight.”

TK might not blame him, and maybe, despite his own thinking that this would have been preventable, it is one of those uncontrollable things. Yet, he thinks he deserves an apology.

“Nothing’s ruined, really,” TK starts, “and this isn’t a terrible anniversary. Little unconventional for sure, but we’re together, in love and there’s candlelight, so I think we could’ve done a lot worse.”

“I know,” Carlos breathes out, “the candle really saved this.”

It sends TK laughing again. “And if we’re being completely honest, we have a tendency to mess up dinner plans. Especially the big ones.”

“True.”

“I’m willing to bet that if we ever get married, a natural disaster will strike,” TK jokes.

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Carlos feels how TK’s muscles tense up, and he goes a little still. His fingers stop moving in his hair, but at least he isn’t pulling his hand away.

Marriage isn’t something they have ever outright discussed. Obviously, they are both in it for the long haul, and he has always assumed that marriage is something they are slowly heading towards to. He knows TK has his own baggage about his failed proposal, but it makes him happier than he could say that TK can make jokes about marriage already.

Because Carlos can definitely imagine himself marrying him. He can more than imagine it, he wants to do it. He knows there is no rush, and that taking their time is a good thing, but he would marry him in a heartbeat or in ten years. Either way, he knows it would be something that will bring immense joy to him.

“Bold of you to assume it would be only one natural disaster,” he comments, a brilliant grin spreading on his face, “it will probably be at least two.”

TK immediately relaxes. He lets out a breath and continues to run his fingers through his hair. “There should be a safety manual for the whole thing.”

“Oh, definitely,” Carlos laughs, still little weakly, “evacuation plans and everything.”

After the active volcano, it feels like nothing that the universe throws at their way would surprise him anymore, and he knows they have had their fair share of weird and ridiculous calls, and that they have survived all of that so far, but a wedding would definitely be the biggest dinner possible, and it seems like tempting fate.

“We’ll send it with the invitations.”

He still feels weak and sick, but the feeling of pure happiness is starting to overpower both of them.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Carlos admits, quietly.

“Yeah, me neither.”