#let's hope i'll get my diagnosis this time

[bloodyjuls-blog]

We are okay with you here

So guys this is the part 5, could consider it like an ending but maybe I'll do a sneak peak ⚠️

So here we go...

It is y/n's tenth day in the ICU and we are waiting for the results of the MRI to see if her brain injuries have a good diagnosis.

"Miss Alexia good morning" says the doctor entering the room. "I have good news y/n shows movement in her brain and we believe that in the next few hours she will be able to wake up with this we will reduce the possible injuries of being sedated" doctor says looking at his notebook.

"Thank you very much doctor, I'm super happy" she says hopefully. "Listen love, everything is going great, open your eyes soon, my life, I need you" says Alexia with a tear in her eye looking at you.

Leah and AnaMari enter the room with food for Alexia "Here Ale, you haven't had breakfast" says Leah handing her the bagel bag with the cup of tea. "Thank you so much guiri really, for everything you have been here with her and me and you too Ana" says giving them a hug Alexia. "You're welcome girl, as a family already? " Leah says to which Alexia says "Of course".

"Any news?" Ana says towards Alexia. "Yes, the doctor came in and said the results have come back good but time for everything and she will probably have the sedation removed today" Alexia says contentedly. "that sounds perfect, we hope to see y/n soon fighting like always" says Leah stroking the hair left out of y/n's bandage.

A few hours go by

"Love, these days have been hard but I ratify that I will be with you and the girls too all the way, I can't wait for you to wake up so I can give you some kisses and give you a cuddle of the kind we like" Alexia said holding her hand. Y/n moves her hand a little to which Alexia notices and sees how y/n is trying to move. "Honey what are you going to hurt yourself for baby, I'm going to hold you" alexia says as she takes both of y/n's hands between hers. She watches as y/n struggles to remove the tube that passes between her mouth. "I know it hurts but the doctor is coming and will take that off, don't cry my love" Alexia tells her as she notices the tears falling from y/n's face and goes over to give her a little kiss.

"But well what do we have here?" doctor said entering at the room and greeting cheerfully. "Our fighter eh" he says looking at y/n. "Good afternoon miss y/n, we are going to proceed to remove your endotracheal tube and put you on an oxygen mask" says the doctor looking at y/n who is a little agitated. "Baby stay still so they can remove that annoying thing" says Ale while stroking her girlfriend's head and holding her hands.

Okay Alexia, please hold y/n's hands tightly because it will probably be uncomfortable when we are removing the tube" says the doctor looking at Alexia and y/n.

Moments later you already find yourself breathing with an oxygen mask and trying to adjust around although very sleepy too. "Ready Miss Alexia and y/n, now it remains to wait for evolution, a doctor will be passing by every 4 hours to supervise that everything is going well" doctor said more relieved.

"Hello my love, you don't know how happy I am to see you awake" says Alexia looking at her girlfriend while kissing her hands and cheeks. "Hiya" says y/n wincing. "What's wrong love, are you in pain? Shall I call the doctor? "* She looks at her worriedly. "My leg hurts a little and my back" she says in tears. "Give me a moment baby I'll call the doctor, but you're going to be fine" she turns to head for the door to which his girlfriend says "don't go, please stay I'm afraid (said mumbled)" with her weak little hand she grabs Alexia's hand. "I'm not leaving my life, I'm just going to call the doctor we will be alright" she walks over and kisses her forehead and leaves to call a doctor or nurse.

After the doctor passes he prescribes her a painkiller that makes her drowsy and while that happens Alexia goes downstairs to get a snack and to let everyone knows that y/n is awake.

What Alexia didn't know was that the doctor had come back and told y/n the bad news.

Flashback

"The extent of your injuries are very serious and that generates the thought that you are not going to play again at a professional level, the blows you had and the internal injuries were very serious, and I don't have the heart to tell you lies or give you an encouraging report about your career, I may be telling you that yes and give you a time to expect and maybe in a year or two you're back on the courts but with pain in every moment of your exercise. And your well being is what you should put first. You have a good support system, your girlfriend, your sister and your guiris have come and taken care of you" says the doctor when he sees you crying.

End of flashback

Alexia goes upstairs and the doctor continues talking to y/n. "What's up doc everything ok?" says Alexia quizzically. "Here chatting with the lady and telling her not to play soccer" Alexia's shocked look leaves Ana and Leah in shock. Since they had come back to see their friend.

[captain----nemo----returns]

being dramatic over angst for a moment

i actually enjoy how everyone but me writes chuuya as this highly functional man. how he's managing it. pulling himself together. cool guy.

my tastes? destruction. i get my hands on you, you suffer greatly. i don't care what canon says. i make my niche in personal agony theater. i make "my little au 🌺" and i break you in every aspect of your story and personality.

the hunting dogs conflict may not exist for me. the book. all that jazz. i'm an everything after season 3 finale never happened person. but that's where i thrive. i don't need the outside world influence to let hell loose. at least for now.

talk to me when i'm on my new meds and i'll crush the world into dust

[burntoutdaydreamer]

Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

[sunkissed-zegras]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 ─ KM²⁰

౨ৎ ─ summary | REQUESTED: "Okay there's a criminally low amount of Kate martin fics like that's literally my wife 😞 buttt my idea is Kate x reader where reader plays another sport at Iowa and gets injured at a game and Kate is js there with reader and takes care of her after the diagnosis. I js reinjured my knee for the 4th time and would love sum like that 😭🙏"

─ word count | 886

─ warnings | cute teasing/banter, mentions of injuries (duh), pretty much nothing but sweet, tooth-rotting fluff!

─ taglist | my wcbb taglist is in my bio! fill it out to be tagged:)

─ ev's notes | hope you heal your knee, nonnie! hope this fic made you feel better:) MY FIRST WCBB REQUEST!!!!!!! i'm so happy, please send in moreeeee! also so happy it's for kate my love, she is so nucnuncexijizjiuncru. anyways, enjoy!!!!!!!!

"I'M FINE, REALLY." YOU TRIED TO pry Kate's hands off your hips as she led you into your dorm.

You couldn't help but laugh at Kate's concerned expression. You'd just twisted your ankle and could barely walk. You were on strict instructions from the doctor to stay off the ground and most importantly, stay off the field.

And knowing Kate, she would make sure that you followed those orders because you didn't, you'd get hurt again. You were stubborn and she knew that, but she was equally as stubborn when it came to taking care of you. She cared about you deeply, and sometimes her worry could be a bit overwhelming, but you knew it came from a place of love and genuine concern for your well-being.

As she helped you settle onto your bed, you couldn't help but appreciate her persistence even if she was a little overbearing.

Despite your protests, Kate insisted on fetching ice packs and pillows to elevate your injured ankle. She hovered around you, fussing over every detail, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

With a sigh, you finally relented, accepting her help and allowing yourself to relax. You knew that with Kate by your side, you'd recover in no time. Plus, having her around made the whole situation a lot more bearable.

As she sat beside you, you couldn't help but smile at her, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Kate," you said softly.

She glanced back at you, a smile playing on her lips. "You don't have to thank me, that's what I'm here for. How's it feeling now?"

You shifted slightly, testing your ankle gingerly. "It still hurts a bit, but the ice is helping. And having you here definitely makes it better."

Kate let out a small laugh as she shook her head. "You're such a flirt, you know that?"

"Oh shush, you love it." You teased back, a smirk playing on your lips.

She rolled her eyes with a smile, but you could see the warmth in her gaze. "Yeah, yeah, I guess I do," she admitted, her tone teasing.

You leaned into your bed, trying to ignore the pain that was still lingering in your ankle. You couldn't believe this was your second injury this season ─ at this rate, you weren't gonna play for the rest of the season.

You yawned as you glanced at the clock in your room before snapping your head back to Kate. "Kate! You're gonna be late for practice, get up!"

Kate laughed a little as she shook her head. "I told them I'm not going."

You scoffed as you raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You what? Since when do you skip practice?"

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. "Since my girlfriend decided to twist her ankle and needs me here to take care of her."

You couldn't help but smile at her words. "Kate, you don't have to do that. I'll be fine on my own."

She gave you a pointed look. "And you'll be even better with me here. Plus, me missing one practice won't kill me."

You chuckled, realizing that arguing with Kate was futile when she had made up her mind. "Alright, alright, you win. But only if you promise to make me some of your famous hot chocolate later."

Kate grinned. "Deal."

As you settled in with Kate by your side, you couldn't help but feel a wave of warmth wash over you. With her there, even the pain in your ankle seemed more bearable.

"Thanks, Kate," you said softly, squeezing her hand.

She smiled back at you, her eyes filled with reassurance. "Of course, that's what I'm here for."

She squeezed you in closer as your head fell on her shoulder. "I can't believe I'm not going to play in next week's game."

Kate knew that this was going to be hard for you, a twisted ankle wasn't going to heal as quickly as you wanted. Kate wrapped her arm around you as you leaned into her shoulder. "I know, it sucks," she said empathetically. "But your health comes first, always. And hey, you'll be back on the field before you know it, kicking ass like you always do."

You sighed, leaning into her warmth. "I just hate feeling so helpless, you know? I want to be out there with the team, not stuck in bed."

"They'd want you to recover. You can't help them by playing when you're injured and then getting more hurt ─ it won't do anything." Kate murmured, running her fingers through your hair soothingly. "You'll be back before you know it. And in the meantime, you've got me to keep you company."

You grinned, feeling a little lighter at her words. "You're right, I shouldn't worry too much."

She pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you leaned into her touch. "You shouldn't, I promise you will heal and be back in no time."

You nodded, taking comfort in her reassurance. "Thanks, Kate. I don't know what I'd do without you."

She smiled, her blues eyes soft with affection. "You'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere."

You leaned in closer as Kate reached for the remote on this night stand. "Now enough with this sappy stuff, what do you feel like watching tonight?"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[wosoluver]

To undo a mistake

Part 4/17 - previous - next

Lena x Bayern player!reader, Ana Guzmán x Bayern player!reader

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

That therapy session was... something. To say the least. Your eyes puffy once again.

We didn't talk much. I practically just dumped all my problems to her. But it felt good to get everything out, to someone who wouldn't judge you but also wasn't allowed to give too much of her opinion.

When you walked out, Ana wasn't there yet. So you just decided to sit and wait.

It took her around 10 minutes to show up.

"Hey. Have I made you wait for too long?"

"No, not at all. So do you want to go get some coffee? I'm out of practice today and you probably don't have many friends here yet."

"Your the one that looks like you could use a friend. Let's go. You drive, I don't have my license yet."

"First of all, ouch. Second of all, let's go. You'll be my passenger princess." - You said it excited.

Lena never really let you drive, you were always the passenger princess.

And you quickly tried to wisk the memory away.

You were both in comfortable silence in the car. Only the sound of Ana's music playing in the back. And yes you were forced to give her the rights to dj. Passenger princess' rule number 1.

You stop at your favorite place. It was never too crowded, which you were thankful for.

"I'll go order, what do you want?"

"Whatever your having, is fine."

After ordering and getting your coffees you go sit on a quiet corner.

"So, how are you adapting to Germany?"

"Oof- it's so fucking cold here. Not even in the coldest winters we get this temperature in Colombia."

"You'll get used to it after some time. A few jackets and coats and you're good."

"And you? Had a nice time in therapy?"

"Oh yeah. So much fun!" - you answered equally as ironic.

"I can tell by your puffy eyes.

I think today was my first time not crying in there."

"Must be hard. I've never had a bad injury. But it seems like the worse. Lena went through-" - you cut yourself off before you could say anything else. Your face dropped. Here you were again. Everything you think of, brought up Lena, one way or another.

"And Lena is-"

"My ex. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said that."

"It's fine. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." - but then you proceeded to dump everything that had happened into the conversation. - "It's just, my head is still trying to wrap around everything. She already has a new girlfriend. And I'm still dealing with my feelings.

She broke up with me, over the phone can you believe that? I never felt so meaningless, so betrayed. Our five month relationship thrown into the trash. All of that, because Munich is too far from Wolfsburg for her taste."

"Wow, you had a lot to say for someone that didn't want to talk about it." - she said that hoping it would easy the anxious face you had going on. - "It's okay. Time works differently for different people. You have the right to mourn your relationship.

Is that what has been driving you down?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't ready to see her. I'm still in love with her. I mean was. After what happened Saturday, I think it might be time to except it's over."

"You still had feelings for her? Even after what she did?"

"Yeah. I guess I was just hopeful. I felt like in some way things weren't over yet. I just- It just didn't make sense. Lena is not that type of person. She would never do that."

"But she did. Look, if she meant to hurt you or not, you'll probably never know. Unless you talk to her."

"I am not going to talk to her."

"Then you'll have to settle for the unknown."

"I think I will. Can we talk about your feelings now? I've humiliated my self enough."

"Fine. You were right when you said I needed friends." - she let out a deep breath. - "When I first got injured. I was very hard on myself. Specially after hearing the diagnosis and that I'd have to go under surgery. I stressed my self over when I shouldn't have.

I pushed everyone away.

The hardest thing, when we are hurting, is to remember others are most likely going through something too."

"But that's kind of natural I guess. To be so into your own head you forget about others. It's just- there is such a thin line between being compassionate towards people and putting their needs and feelings before yours. To be honest I've never been good at navigating though it either."

"Yeah, I've been getting better about it I think. Therapy has helped me understand a lot of things. The most important of them, I think it was acceptance.

I feel so much better since I accepted that I have no control over this type of things. I couldn't change it even if I wanted to. I just have to go through it. And soon enough I'll be back playing once again."

"It's good to know your coming out better from this one. Sometimes things happen for a reason, and sometimes it's for the better"

"It's getting late, we should get going."

"Yeah. I'll give you a ride home."

For the rest of the day all you could think about was what you two had talked about.

Maybe you could use some acceptance yourself. Of how things were, and not what you think they should be.

And stop worrying so much about what you had no control over.

That's how it works when you live right? Life happens.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Have you guys been wondering what's been like for Lena? Well next chapter is Lena's pov!

It's still an Obi fic I swear.

I think from this chapter on, it's finally going to be good writing. I wasn't liking how things the previous parts came out.

[infohazardouz]

Hello, I was just wondering, is the Demon Wally AU abandoned? And how have you been?

HI EVERYONE!

Thank you for the question anon- let's get into it. The AU isn't dead but I haven't been able to work on it since the last time I posted.

How I've been ties into that- in summary, not great :0( the past year has not been kind to me. My mother became seriously mentally ill and I had to take care of her and my college grades plummeted as a result as well as my own mental health. I went through serious relationship problems and lost (my partner's dog but I practically considered him my own) our dog to cancer within a week of diagnosis. I've been unable to find a job and things are getting a lot more expensive.

Life has not been kind and I've been in survival mode, to be honest. I still love this au and I want to work on it, I just haven't gotten the time. I'm out of college for the summer and firmly jobless, though, so I'm hoping that I'll have time to pick things back up- believe in me guys, I promise I'll deliver!

As for the au in specific, I think I might need to speed things up more than I'd want to in terms of the story. There's an OVA I was working on last that I'll post featuring a special someone you techncially haven't met before, and then I think we'll get into the final act of the story. Someone sent an ask about continuing the story on AO3- that's not a bad idea at all, and I'll answer that ask with a better response as I'm combing through my inbox.

Thanks for sticking around, everyone. It means the world. See you all soon :0)

[saltofmercury]

hi i love ur writing sm and i hope you dont mind my request! can you do one where könig has a s/o that's prone to fainting and he's the one who catches them and just wait until they wake up like it's a normal occurrence now? IM NOT SURE HOW TO EXPLAIN but im prone to fainting and just hope for a könig in my life

hi hi! omg are you my twin? I used to pass out ALL THE TIME. Especially from period pain.

Pairing: König x f!reader

Summary: König helps you when you pass out.

a/n: This was so fun to write because I have passed out multiple times because of period pain, not being hydrated, and even one time because I got my ears pierced and the pain was too much. LOL enjoy!

"Collapse"

You remember the first time it happened.

You had a weird pain throbbing against your stomach, that wouldn’t go away for some reason. You were shopping in the store with your mom. You figured it was nothing, but then you felt hot, how hot your body felt, you kept going throughout the store, when suddenly, the room started to get dark, small bubbles of black and white appeared in your eyesight, your legs felt like jello, and sure enough you woke up breathing heavy, covered in sweat, with over 5 people crowding around you. Your mom had wondered where you wandered off to, but she did not expect this.

The second time it happened it was because of not eating. You were outside in the hot heat. You were a camp counselor rushing to your next activity planned for the day. You forgot to eat something and ran over to the next group. As you started talking, you felt fuzzy. The heat pounding on your head, you started to feel hot again. Why didn't you pick a swimming activity like the rest of the counselors? You moved up the hill with your troop, drinking water excessively, when the dots appeared again. You settle yourself on the floor and let the other adult take the activity. Not this again.

Again, you woke up with the kids and adults surrounding you, covered in sweat, breathing heavily. 

Several trips to the hospital, multiple scans, and even an EKG but nothing abnormal was detected. You just passed out.

The doctor had ruled out multiple theories, just told you to keep hydrated, eat something beforehand, to keep something with you in case your blood sugar went down. There was nothing wrong with you.

Several more instances played out throughout your life, and you knew to carry snacks with you at all times, not stay out in the sun too long, if you were in pain, to reach out to someone or lay in your car until it fades away. It became regular, there was nothing to really do.

It became less scary, and just something you knew how to deal with. 

*

It was one of the first things you told König on your dates. When you told König about it, he looked at you skeptically. 

“Are you sure, schatz?” he took a sip from his coffee in front of him, “There HAS to be more tests done.”

“Nope,” you said, secure of your doctors and self. “It just happens, there's no clear diagnosis.”

“Could be because of pain, low blood sugar, heat, anything really.”

And you hadn't had a fainting episode as of lately, your blood sugar didn’t run low, you weren’t in any pain, and you drank plenty of water. It seemed fine.

“I’ll let you know if it ever happens.” you said confidently. “I can tell usually when it's going to happen.”

König looked at you like you were crazy. 

“You can tell?” he stared at you, one eyebrow raised, and his hand toying with the cup in front of him.

“I'll explain it to you, usually I get really hot when it happens.” you paused looking at him. He looked like he was mentally taking notes.

“For some reason, I get clammy, hot, and I can tell I feel a little weak.”

He nodded, telling you to continue.

“Then when I can feel that happening, I see black and white dots taking over my vision, sort of like a dark aura coming into play.”

He looked at you like you were making it up. How were you not scared?

You smiled back. “It’s not as scary as it seems, it just happens.” you shrugged.

*

The first time it happened with König he was thankful that you were so calm. You guys had been wandering around an IKEA store finding a bookshelf for your books, and a new coffee table to put inside the entrance of his house.

You hated IKEA. The place was designed as a never ending escape room, on a constant loop. You were bumping into things constantly, and lost. König felt out of place here. He was like a giant placed inside a doll house.

“Everything here is so small, are you joking?” He looked at the table for six people. He looked like he could take up half of the table.

You were leading the way hoping and praying you would find the bookshelf section when all of a sudden you bumped your hip into some weird corner of a dresser.

“Oh… OW”

You rubbed the spot furiously.

“Are you alright?” König asked. “I saw you from the table section running straight into that.”

“Yeah I'm fine. It really hurt though.” The pain for some reason did not go away, and you started seeing the black dots come into vision.

“König…” you said gently, now the spot had been throbbing. “Don’t freak out, but I think I'm going to pass out.”

He looked at you. You had suddenly become pale, your face drained from blood, and you were sweaty all over. “Schatz… you don’t look well.”

“OW ow ow, yeah just, stay calm i’ll come back to-”

You closed your eyes and tumbled back.

König could only describe it as a limp doll falling backward. He immediately took two steps to catch you, and had held you, positioning your legs up against the dresser that caused this.

He remembered Horangi telling him about fainting and helping his other teammate when they passed out from a wound. 

He was starting to freak out. Luckily there weren't too many people around, and your breathing went from shallow fast inhales, to normal, regular inhales.

You gained consciousness again, hearing König mumble in German. Your eyesight wasn’t back completely, but you could hear, and once you focused your vision it was back.

König had held your head on his lap, was fanning you with some throw pillow, your legs propped up against a dresser.

“Hi” you said weakly.

“Jesus schatz, you scared me! How are you feeling?

You smiled weakly and answered “I’m ok just sweaty is all.” You picked yourself up, König behind you insisting you sit down a bit.

The car ride home he kept pestering you,

“BUT HOW did you know it was going to happen?” He kept questioning you as if he couldn’t believe it really happened.

“I just know” you said calmly

“We don’t have to call 911, or get you to the hospital?” He questioned you endlessly.

“No, just I'll be ok.” you grabbed a small candy bag from your backpack. “It was just pain, guess my body couldn’t take it.” you laughed and popped a candy gummy fish.

*

The longer you two dated, the more König started taking things seriously and even had started packing things for you. A small bag of candy in case you needed sugar, a hydration packet, an ice pack, and sugar gum. Small things like this just to prevent what happened at IKEA.

You guys were heading out to some event in a small town, you insisted that the whole place was going to be fun.

The place was crowded, filled with food vendors, different vendors selling their items, children running around, families having picnics outside, and many other small events crowding the area.

You held König’s hand as you guys walked through the crowd, worried that it could be too much for him. He was holding your hand because it was hot out today, and you didn’t have enough water.

You had found a spot to buy food from, while he found a small spot under a tree, placing your blanket down.

The heat was awful, standing in the line, you felt the heat beat down your hair and sweat dripping down your neck. There were 2 more people in front of you, a mom making changes to her order constantly. Your stomach grumbled and you felt your mouth dry up.

Fuck not again. You could see it happening, you tried not to psych yourself out because if you did it would happen. You tried to find König, he was only a couple feet away, but you could see he sensed it. He made eye contact with you, and ran over to you.

Cold water bottle in hand, he jogged a couple feet, you barely reached out to him, before your vision tunneled. This time it wasn’t so bad, you could feel him catch you before mumbling,

“I got you, you’re okay.” He said softly, dumped some cold water on your head, picked you up, wrapping your legs on top of his arms.

Your vision, still blurry and pitch black, you could feel the wind on your face, the sun’s rays on your eyelids trying to keep you down.

A few small cries of “Is she okay?” “That was such a good catch! “Do you need anything?”

König talking back to the people “She’s alright happens more often than you think.” Walking around with you.

You regained consciousness again, your head on König’s lap, he had a cold compress on your forehead, playing with your hair, fanning your face.

“Sorry..” you mumbled. Trying to face him.

He hushed you, “It’s alright babe, I kind of saw it happening.”

You blushed, looking away from him.

He put the fan down and grabbed the candy bag out of the backpack.

“Let’s get you hydrated and some sugar back in you, yeah?

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…” 

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says. 

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Hi! This is a fic rec of my favorite fics that take place in a small town. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @100percentsassy, @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Halfway Home by itsmotivatingcara / @itsmotivatingcara (103k)

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson were improbable childhood friends, much to Harry’s dismay. They were thrown together each summer when Harry was forced to visit Louis’ grandfathers’ ranch in Black Hills, South Dakota. With each passing year their friendship blossomed into something more. When trail rides turned to stolen kisses, and tragedies turned to confessions, until they could no longer deny the inevitable draw they felt for one another.

Though life and their future plans soon set them on different paths.

Ten years later, Louis is the proud owner of Halfway Home Wildlife Refuge. Harry returns to the ranch to escape the perils of his past in London, and though their memories still haunt Louis, he won’t let that deter him from his goals. However, someone has been keeping a close eye on the refuge, and possibly Louis specifically, and Harry’s return may have unleashed more that just old passions. There’s a hunter lurking in the Hills, someone who’s decided they’ve bided their time long enough.

Apple Pie Baked Just Right by 28goldensfics / @28goldens (92k)

“You’re sweet, thank you.” Harry was speaking so quiet it was almost eerie, but his fingers squeezed against Louis’ hand again. “I already feel like I can pretty much be myself with you. I’m glad you moved here, I’ve needed a friend. I hope you keep getting that breath of fresh air you need here.”

 Louis’ heart felt like it could pound out of his chest and onto the floor in front of them.

 “I’m starting to think I will.”

Louis has to get away. The news of his father’s terminal diagnosis, the loss of his job, and the breakup with his girlfriend leads Louis to leave for a life of slower things in the small town of Cedar Hills.

His new neighbor is the Cox Family Apple Farm. Harry Styles, the oldest child of the Cox Family, might just teach him how to live life a little simpler, bake an apple pie, and breathe.

Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds / @fondleeds (88k)

“If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many friends,” Louis whispers, the blossom of insecurity in his stomach unfurling and clawing its way into his throat.

Harry is silent for a long time, and then he speaks; a soft, slow uncurl that makes Louis’ stomach shake. “I’ll be your friend.”

-

1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

(Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites (86k)

“Sir, I can help you. Just let me — “ He tried moving closer but the eldest child blocked his way. He backed off, putting his hands out in a passive gesture. “I’m a physician. I can help,” he tried again.

The man shook his head vehemently, passing the cup back to his grandchild. “Tol’ ya. Don’t need ya.” All of the fire had gone out of his voice, leaving behind a frail, sick old man with barely any breath to talk.

“I have medicines...I could make you comfortable…” Louis’ voice was still small, but pleading.

“Mountain Mama cares for wha’s ailin’ me. Don’t need no fancy city doctors.”

Louis blinked at the man, still shaking from the coughing spell. Mountain — well, fuck. That backwoods, uneducated scam artist…

“Of course he is,” Louis said curtly. ***** OR a Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

So Keep My Candle Bright by whisperdlullaby (78k)

Louis returns to his hometown after four years to find that the reverend’s son has done some growing up of his own.

That's What I'm Here For by taggiecb / @taggiecb (46k)

Louis Tomlinson is a dairy farmer on a tiny farm in eastern Canada. His wife of nearly thirty years has left him and his children are all grown up and out of the house. Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking. Luckily for him his children know just the man for the job.

Home Calls the Heart by itsmotivatingcara / @itsmotivatingcara (44k)

A series of unfortunate events lands Louis Tomlinson in the heart of Texas. After running from his life in London and a performative marriage, he leaves a scandal in his wake. Home calls the heart, as his Nana always said. Though her words couldn’t be truer when he decides to take up her offer to watch over Hyacinth ranch while she travels abroad.

He figured the worst he’d have to deal with would be the meddlesome goats, some repairs and an errant spirit or two. That is, until the gorgeous Cowboy next door makes his presence known.

or

A romcom au.

The Best Kind of Bad by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (40k)

Nobody really understood Harry and Louis. Not even Louis. But for Louis, the world began and ended with Harry, and there were certain things he just wasn’t capable of explaining.

or Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

Our Little Corner of the World by brownheadedstranger (29k)

AU. Louis is stuck in his mom's diner for the summer. Harry is the line cook with a pickup truck.

Not That Gone Series by abrighteryellow / @a-brighter-yellow

Hello My Name is Harry (2k) Louis’s 20-year high school reunion takes a turn when a celebrity classmate – who also happens to be Louis’s long unrequited crush – unexpectedly shows up. A famous/not-famous AU inspired by Chris Evans.

Not That Gone (60k)

Around four in the afternoon on day two, Harry was dropping kisses on Louis’ chest and heading downwards when he abruptly stopped. “I can move back here,” he said, propping himself up on the mattress with his hands. Louis’ eyes popped open and he looked up at him, totally lost. “What?” “For a while,” Harry continued, the idea taking hold. “Hang out with my mom. Work on my script. Be with you.” Louis had already resigned himself to the fact that this weekend was a crack in the space-time continuum that would soon close, sending him and Harry back to their respective, very different lives. It would be a memory that would keep him warm when he was an old, old man – that time one of People’s 50 Most Beautiful had kept him on his hands and knees for two days straight. He wasn’t so stupid as to hope for more. “You’re crazy,” Louis scoffed. Harry’s eyes shone. “Am I?” A few weeks after Louis and Harry, *ahem*, reconnect at their high school reunion, Harry temporarily moves back home. Louis isn’t sure he has the emotional fortitude for a prolonged fling with the man of the dreams. For Ten Minutes Straight (1k) Louis has a ritual for when Harry’s away – and a good reason for keeping it private.

[witchessrose]

Hey, if you have multiplicity could you please spare the time? I'm a questioning system and desperately need input.

I know the internet can't diagnose me, but I'm hoping people who may know more could help steer me in the right direction, or at least affirm to me whether or not I should start the process of reaching out to doctors for a potential diagnosis. I just dont know who to talk to about this. And fear talking about it to people I know because I'm so afraid that I'm,,, faking it??

What I'm looking into right now is Partial DID or maybe even OSDD? Keep in mind I was diagnosed with autism about a month ago before I finally started really noticing/growing awareness of somethings ive been in denial of.

-For example the talking to "myself" and getting immediate responses

-Talking back and forth with "myself", sometimes accidentally speaking outloud without realizing it

-I previously believed myself to by psychic because often when I ask myself questions in my head "someone" will answer me, often with information I wasn't aware of myself. I am now questioning if I've ever actually been a medium...

- I thought this was my echolalia, and maybe it is (if ur an autistic system maybe u could tell me if u relate for reference?) But often my mind will repeat different names to me. To the point where it can be very frustrating and distracting. The two names they tell me the most, is Penelope and Jasmine.

- I have different versions of myself that help with different situations. There's also a mean one, which is one of the few versions of.. Me? In my head that I don't associate myself with. I don't see that one as me, the way I can see the other ones as me.

- I was recently diagnosed with a "cognitive dysfunction of unknown origins" which is basically my neurologists way of saying she has no idea why I have forms of amnesia. While I am always... Somewhat... Present, I rarely remember an entire week, let alone parts of the day. Down to conversations I'm in the middle of having. I also can't remember most of my childhood.

- I sometimes feel like im in a video game, and the world around me will start to feel very fake, and small, like I'm everywhere. And I'll have to very manually control my body. The other day this happened when I had to perform a function on a very mentally draining day. Go to the store. To me, I want to say, someone else helped bring me to the store, because I wasn't really there. But at the same time, I was. Its this that conflicts me, but I found out that sometimes a person can be stuck in front? And wonder if that's what I'm experiencing.

-When I get in those states I often describe it as "being in autopilot" I will complete entire tasks without being aware of any of the process or fully remembering it. I'll be there, I'll know if was done, but my body did it for me. Again, because its not complete amnesia, I wonder if this could actually just be me in autopilot.

There's a lot more but I feel like I'm dragging it, I don't want it to be too long because I'm really hoping for some actual responses.

I'm afraid that I've tricked myself. Or being inconsiderate to ddiagnosed systems with these questions in anyway? Its not like I'm determined to have it, I just want to know what's wrong(for lack of a better term) w me. I haven't told anyone about this, I just want to know if I'm imagining this all in my head, or if other systems can relate to any of this?

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

2:09

Chan and Felix x reader 

Genre: 🌶️

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: what would life be without friends, when you get into an accident and your two best friends comfort you. 

Warnings: none really, just some cuteness. Friends, comfort fic. 

A/N: this was a request ☺️ I got this through my DMs so thank you my love for your message and I hope this gives you some comfort. 

All you can remember from that moment was when the bright lights flashed in your side window. You also remember the beep of the horn as the car came screaming towards you. You tried so hard to swerve off the road however, the vehicle clipped you, making the car spin out of control. 

You scream as the car comes to an abrupt stop, shooting you forward, and your head hits the dashboard. All you see before you are knocked out is a person running towards you.

You wake up and can hear the hospital monitors beeping. This brings you back to reality quickly. 

"Excellent…welcome back", the nurse said, smiling at you. 

"What happened?" You asked as a sharp pain shot through your head. 

"Well, you are a fortunate young lady…. You were in a car accident, and it looks like you've had a concussion," she said, reading your chart at the bottom of the bed.

"Oh god….was anyone else hurt?" you said, attempting to sit up. 

"Just some cuts and bruises from the other driver," she said, looking at the monitor for any changes.

"Y/N…" you heard from the doorway. 

"Hey, Lix", you try to smile.

"Thank god you are okay….Chris, she's in here," he yells down the hall. 

Chris pushes his way past Felix and quickly reaches your bedside. Grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles. "Do you know how scary it was getting that phone call?" You had forgotten you had even put him down as an emergency contact.

"I'm sorry…I didn't want to scare anyone," you said, tearing up. 

"So what happened?" Felix said, sitting on the other side. You started to recall the accident, and Felix grabbed your other hand.

"Poor thing," Felix said, brushing your face. Chan had your hand firmly in his. 

"So you have a concussion?" Chan asked, confirming your diagnosis. 

"That's what the nurse said." 

"Well then, I guess you are coming home with us," he said confidently. 

The truth is that Chan and Felix were like your only family. It warmed your heart that they wanted to take care of you. 

"Oh, Channie, you don't have to do that", you smiled at him. 

"Please…let us take care of you", Felix inserted himself. 

……

When you got released from the hospital, Chan drove you and Felix back to the dorm. They walked you up to the dorm room, where they sat you on the couch.

"Okay, so Felix will take the afternoon shift…then you and I can cuddle tonight," Chan said, kissing the top of your head. You smiled as he caressed your face and grabbed his keys. 

"I'll be back in time for you to leave, lix….take good care of our girl," he says as he walks out of the dorm. 

Felix was the most caring carer you could ask for. "babe do you want any tea?" He would reply knowing the answer and putting on the kettle. 

"Yes, please," you said, lying on the couch. Moments later, Felix comes over with a cup of hot peppermint tea. You sit up, and your head spins slightly from getting up too quickly. 

"Wow," you said, holding your head. 

"You okay?" Felix said, bending down to steady you. 

"My head is killing me" Felix got up and walked into the cupboard to give you some Panadol.

"Here, take this and water… I'll turn on the TV...we can watch a movie", he smiled, sitting down next to you. 

You lay your head on his shoulder as you cuddled up against him. He wrapped his arm around your waist, gently kissing your temple. "It's all better," he said in his silly voice, which always made you giggle. 

"I'm so tired, lix," you say, yawning on his shoulder.

"Well, you can't go to sleep yet….so we better get you up," he said, lifting your head so he could get up. 

"I'll make you some lunch," he smiled.

Felix made you some food and brought it over to the couch. "Here, have some of this", he smiled, handing you a plate of Bibimbap. 

Felix would talk to you for hours. He would make sure you had water as well as your medicine, and even gave you his hoodie when you said you felt cold. 

"Chan should be home soon… did you want to shower… I'll give you some clothes" you nod your head, and Felix helps you off the couch.

"Here, use channies shower" he gave you a towel and led you to his room. 

You walked in and turned on the hot water. "Y/N, I stuck some clothes on the bed for you," you could hear through the door. 

"Okay, thank you," you shout back.  

You walk into the shower, warm water running down your body. You stay there for 5 minutes, then turn off the water and step out to dry yourself off. 

Putting the clothes, Felix paid out on Chan's bed for you. When you walked out into the living room, Chan was sitting on the couch "hey beautiful", he smiled, putting down a bag of food.

"Felix had to go….so it's just you and me," he said, shoving chips into his mouth. He patted the couch cushion next to him. 

"Come and eat," he said sweetly. His smile lit up the room. 

You sat down next to him and started to eat slowly as, at this point, you were just super tired and wanted to get to sleep. 

"You okay?" He stopped eating and turned to face you.

“ just tired” you said yawning while looking at Chan. "7 pm... you should be able to sleep now,actually." You continued to eat and when you finished, Chris picked your bag up and threw it away. 

Your eyes start to become heavy. Chan slides his hand around your waist and picks you up bridal style. "Let's go watch TV in my room," he said, kissing your temple. As he carries you to his bed, you bury your head in his neck. 

"Sorry, we don't have somewhere else for you," he said, placing down on the bed.

"It's okay, Channie", you smile. Chan tucks you in before walking to the other side of his double bed.

"What movie do you want to watch?" he asked, turning on the TV. You move closer to him, snuggling into his side with your head on his chest. 

"I just want to sleep," you said, rubbing his stomach softly. Chan wraps his arms around your shoulder and shifts down the bed turning the TV off. 

"We can do that," he said, rubbing your shoulder.

It was quiet for a moment before Chan placed a kiss on the top of your nose. "I couldn't stop thinking about how I almost lost you today" this made your heart flutter just a bit. 

"Please promise me you'll be more careful…I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." 

"I promise," you whispered before he pulled you into his chest, and you fell asleep in his arms. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading :) please enjoy.any comments likes or rebolgs are appreciated. 

Taglist: @daceydeath @katwinchester64 @armystay89

[letsdeerintheheadlightsuniverse]

<<Previous Chapter <<

**Masterlist**

>>Next Chapter>>

Pairing: Izzy Hands x gn!reader

Synopsis: Will Izzy's guilt continue to drive him away from being by your side or will he finally accept the light and free himself from the brewing darkness within?

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who voted. I hope this is everything you want! This chapter follows the events of the Bonus Anti-Hero chapter, so if you haven't read it, you can follow the 'previous chapter' link above.

Content Warning: Knives, mention of injuries, trauma, vomiting, mentions of drowning, blood, begging for death and angst. I think that's everything. This series is 18+, so minors dni. Go away (politely).

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, REPUBLISH, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. I DO NOT OWN OFMD OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

=============================

"I can't do this, Captain." you admitted through gritted teeth, as you leaned heavily onto the bucket you cradled between your legs.

You were in Hell. Actually Hell. So sure you had died upon the treacherous waves and were now bring subjected to the worst of tortures. Perhaps that was why you were yet to see Izzy yet. Despite his own harsh opinions of himself, you truly believed that Israel Hands was a good man. Maybe even one of the best you had had the good fortune of meeting, during your travels across the seven seas. No, someone as loyal- albeit, sometimes misguided and stubborn in their decisions- would be in Hell alongside you.

The co-captain could tell you were struggling and damn it, he felt completely powerless to ease your suffering. He himself was no stranger to infected wounds and all the delightful symptoms that entailed. The fever, the shivers, the nausea- all played a part in the general unpleasantness that came with an injury. "You have to, okay? I know you want to give up right now but you can't. Just be brave for me a little bit longer, yeah?" not a wordsmith by nature, he was doing his best to comfort you. Was that not what Edward had always craved when he had fallen ill on Hornigold's ship? Just someone to hold his hand and tell him it was going to be alright. Such a simple request that had been denied to him time and time again. Of course, then he had met Izzy but that was a walk down memory lane for another time. "That's it, there you go. You're okay." the small circles he rubbed into your back, were most welcome, while to once again coughed your guts up into the bucket. "What's the diagnosis, doc?" Edward focused his attention upon the other man present in the room.

"The wounds infected. Looks like there's pus gathering. Probably going to have to drain it. Truthfully," there was a pause as the medical professional chose his words carefully. "things are going to get a lot worse before it gets better." he had seen wounds worse than the one inflicted upon your body. Though certain you would live to see your next voyage, the gentleman was still exercising extreme caution when it came to treating you. One small mistake or negligence on his part and it would be lights out for you. "I'm also concerned about the fever and vomiting but let's focus on one thing at a time."

"Captain, it'd be quicker just run me through with a sword."

"And probably less painful." the doctor joked, hoping to add some lightness to the dire situation but his quip did not garner the jovial response he had been hoping for. Instead, Ed glared daggers at him. Oh, if looks could kill, the sliver of a men would have been dead a thousand times over. "Ahem, anyway. I'll go an prepare my tools. I won't be long." he excused himself, wanting to make a hasty retreat. Ed's reputation preceeded him and the doctor just prayed that he made it out of this house all with all of his bones intact and fingers still attached to his body.

Upon his exit, you heard a murmured exchange between him and another in the hallway but your focus was on the raging fire that engulfed your entire being and the churning in your stomach, that threatened to provoke another round of coughing up your guts.

"How're ya hanging in there, kid?" though his words were good-humoured, there was a undeniable tenderness in your Captain's actions, as he brought a cool wash cloth to your fash, washing away any rogue spittle from around your mouth. It felt almost perverse to have the legendary Blackbeard dote upon you in your time of need but hey, you were not going to start counting chickens. You were just grateful to be a part of a misfit crew, who cared about one another and that you could call family.

"Just fucking kill me already, Captain." you all but begged, already struggling under the immense physical exertions of your current symptoms. Though not known to be a coward by nature, you were fully prepared to be removed from the rotation of existence, if it meant forgoing the experience of more afflictions upon your persons.

Oh, how the pirate knew the wanting of death well. How many times had he begged Izzy to out him out of his misery, during their time together on the Queen Anne? Hell, Ed had literally handed the First Mate a gun and giaded the man to shoot him right there and then, when he had been in the wicked grasps of the Kraken. "Mmm, can't do that. Sorry." he replied almost playfully, trying to lighten the mood slightly, as he aimed to pull your thought process away from such dark desires.

"Fuck you, then. I guess." you grumbled miserably, wondering if Izzy had been by your side, would he have relented to your request? Perhaps if you annoyed him enough, he may have run you through with his sword.

"You heard the doc, it'll 'get worse before it gets better'. Just gotta weather this storm and then it'll be...fuck, what's the metaphor Stede uses? Oh, yeah! Sunny skies!"

"Yeah, no offence but Captain Stede isn't the one who's about to have his arm fucking-"

====

"Drained? Oh...that doesn't sound very pleasant." Stede grimaced, nose and mouth scruching in that irritating way, that never failed to irk the First Mate, whom stood diligently beside him.

"It's not. It's incredibly painful. I'll try and administer some kind of mild sedative to help lower the pain levels but really, some decent rum will probably take the edge off better." the doctor further explained, his gaze shifting between the two men. There was something incredibly unnerving about the way the silver-haired pirate continued to stare daggers at him. What was it with this crew and having murderous expressions?

"Izzy's got a bottle of rum. Haven't you, Iz? It looked unopened too, right?" of course Stede fucking Bonnet had noticed such a minor detail. Man was a total idiot when it came to things about piracy but give him a brief insight into your lodgings and suddenly, the twat had a photographic memory. Upon hearing the doctor's prognosis, Izzy wished he was black out drunk right about now.

This was his fault. Everything you were about to experience. Every second of pain, any blood you had needlessly shed, whatever horrors you were about to face at the hands of this twatty doctor- it was all Izzy's fault, he decided.

"Get the patient to drink some. In the meantime, I'm going to go and prepare my tools and-"

"(Y/N)." Izzy's sharp tone cut across the doctor's explanation like the knife he was about to go sterilise.

"Pardon?"

Stede almost smirked at the unwarranted hostility. Izzy might have thought his was covert in concealing his feelings for you, but in reality, the man was an open book. Who else would the silver-haired pirate borderline snarl a warning at for forgoing the usage of someone's name? Well, that just proved that you were not a mere 'someone' to the First Mate.

"Their name is (Y/N), not 'patient'."

====

"Hey...hey, C-Captain?" you gasped between another round of vomiting. How was it even still possible for you to be emptying the contents of your stomach? Surely, there was nothing left to generate into...

Edward winced as you bent over the bucket once more, this time merely dry heaving. A sheen of sweat covered your body and soaked through your flimsy shirt and linen trousers- all hand-me-downs from the crew, after you had already perspired through your own attire. Though you felt warm to the touch, you shivered as if you were made of ice. In conclusion, you looked like shit. "Yeah, kid?"

Under normal circumstances, you would have been hesitant to make any kind of request to the Captain but desperate times called for desperate measures. Having been stripped of your pride and dignity, you had no inhibitions when you beseeched the silver-haired pirate to fulfil your only desire. "Can...can you get Izzy, please? I..."

====

"I'm not going." it had to be said that Israel Hands was many things but never would have Stede labelled the great swordsman to be a coward, especially when it came to matters involving you. Sure, he often- okay, always- shied away from divulging his true feelings to you but that did not make him a coward, so to speak. The co-captain understood how difficult it was to admit your innermost desires to the one you so adored. Goodness knew he had literally fled back to his wife and kids, just to hide away from how he truly felt about one, Edward "Blackbeard" Teach.

However, repressed feelings or not, there was absolutely no need for Izzy to be digging in his heels now. Especially when Stede had asked the silver-haired pirate so nicely to accompany him to your room. "Oh really? And why's that exactly?" he huffed. Whatever the excuse, Stede was not going to let Izzy off the hook so easily. His presence was required and by he'll or by highwater, Stede was going to deliver the First Mate to your bedside. Maybe he could ask Fang to carry Izzy down the hallway?

Even Izzy had to admit, his wanting to remain locked away in his lodgings was a weak excuse at best. Truthfully, he had no real reason for wanting to stay away, other than to wallow in his own brooding. The guilt of knowing that your injuries were the culmination of his past actions and the ill-judged decisions during the storm, was eating away at him. Carving a hollowed space within his chest, where the darkness liked to dwell. That obsidian black, bitter thing. Nothing good was ever born from that corrupted gloom. With each passing moment, it threatened to consume him in his entirety and honestly? Izzy was more than ready to embrace the darkness. When had men like him ever been able to freely enjoy the light? The warmth of innocence was for people like yourself. Fundamentally good and beautifully flawed, not jaded and wicked as him. He had fed another's darkness once, it was time to nurture his own.

Knowing you were alive was enough for Izzy. To see you suffering from the aftermath of your knife wound was a sight he did not need to witness. The image would surely become seared into his retinas. "What use am I going to be, Bonnet? Do I look like a fucking doctor to you?"

There was some truth to his words. What was the point exactly of him playing witness to your agony? He could hardly relieve you of whatever symptoms plagued at current and let's face it, Izzy was not exactly known to be the most...in tune with his feelings. If it was comfort you needed, you were better off with someone like Stede fucking Bonnet or even Fang. Gods, Fang knew how to comfort a person like it was nobody's business. Had the pirate not been the one to hold Izzy in his time of vulnerability? And if Frenchie had not been fighting for his life in the room adjacent to yours, well, he would surely have been first in line to offer a hand to hold.

At the vocalisation of the First Mate's harsh response, Stede's facial expression soften ever so slightly. Maybe that was it, then. He concluded, realising that Izzy's reluctance to be by your side, steamed from his inability to provide you with the level of care he believed you needed. No, deserved. The silver-haired pirate was so overly critical of his own skillset that, he truly did not see all that he could offer to the situation. Give the man a sword and he became a soldier. Ask him to be in attend the bedside of the person he loved most? The man was a bloody mouse.

And it was not as if the feelings were not reciprocated! You were so clearly besotted with the man too. In fact, Stede was in no doubt that Izzy's companionship alone, would bring some joy to your otherwise currently very bleak existence. Perhaps a smile would even be on the cards, if only he could just find a way to lure Izzy down the hallway.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. "FANG!" the Gentleman Pirate called out, much to the confusion of the First Mate. What on earth was he up to now?

====

"Okay, okay, try not to talk, yeah? I hear you, kid. Loud and clear. If it's Iz you want-" a knock at the door interrupted Ed's assurance. Hell, the co-captain was prepared to drag the First Mate by the scruff of his neck if he had to. Anything to get him to darken your door way and finally put an end to his unceasing cycle of guilt. "come in!" his focus was torn away from whoever tentatively opened the door, as your body was wracked with another gagging fit.

The circles rubbing your back in soothing circles faltered momentarily and you found yourself craving the comforting gesture. "Can...can you just get him, please?" you cried, tears streaming down your face, as you sobbed. Damn it, Israel Hands, why were you always so far out of reach, you thought, anguished. "I don't-I don't think I can do this without him. I need him. I fucking need him like I need oxygen. It's easier to breathe when he's around." you doubted your words made any sense but still, you rambled on. Needing Ed to understand just how serious you were in your appeal. If you could have left the room and retrieved the First Mate yourself, you woukd have been down that hallway in a blink of an eye but you were now reliant on the goodwill of another. "He's my Stede." you murmured, hoping the comparison would truly articulate just how important Izzy was to you. "He's my lighthouse. So, please. Please just go get him. Even if he doesnt want to see me. Even if he thinks it's pathetic how much I need him, just go get him. Can you do that, Cap-" you lifted your gaze to finally face your Captain but gone were the familiar brown eyes. Instead, replaced with cerulean blue. A oceanic gaze you had wished to drown in a thousand times over. "Izzy." you murmured between sniffles.

Countless nights had been whiled away, as you fantasised about the seemingly unobtainable opportunity to share a bed with one, Israel Hands. The scenario and setting had always changed depending on your nocturnal preference, but one element was always certain- the First Mate of the Revenge was always, always your bedfellow. Just how Not Safe For Ship the daydream was, depended purely upon how riled up the mere sight of the silver-haired pirate had made you feel throughout your morning duties. Oh Calypso, the things you had imagined doing to that man. Never had you imagined him sitting beside you, playing nurse while you were plagued with fever.

However, there was absolutely nothing alluring or desirable about your current predicament. His hands may have been upon you, but there were no burning touches that sparked a flame of yearning. The only rising temperature was your fever, which continued to climb in numbers and refused to break any time soon. Gods, you felt disgusting. Absolutely putrid. Down right dreadful. To add salt to injury, you looked equally wonderful, too. There was a delightful touch of corpse about your appearance.

You did not have much time to dedicate to your self-deprecating thoughts, as you felt another unpleasant wave of nausea take hold of your senses, forcing you to heave whatever was left within the containment of your stomach. Long gone was the clear broth and crackers. There was no sipped at water left in your system. Hell, even the bile seemed to be running thin now. Soon, you would be gagging on nothing but air and your own tears.

Still, the hand rubbing your back was nice at least.

The wretching gave away to exhaustion. With your body unable to expell any further contents from your stomach, you indulged yourself a little and leaned into your companion's hold. "You're here." you breathed incredulously and despite the agony and torment, you smiled for the first time in...goodness, how many days had you even been occupying the inn? Keeping time had seemed so irrelevant in the grand scheme of simply trying to survive. Nonetheless, you smiled at the pirate. Genuinely thankful that he was now with you. Your beacon of hope, of light. Here to guide you through your darkest hour.

"I..." though being by your side felt as natural as breathing, the truth was a little less romantic. In failing to drag the First Mate to your room himself, Stede fucking Bonnet had enlisted the help of Fang, whom had- quite unceremoniously- carried Izzy down th hallway. All while that twat of a Captain had demanded that the First Mate stop being so stubborn and for once in his life, listen to his heart instead of his head.

Seeing you now, a former shadow of your usually vibrant self, was a difficult sight to process. He had been correct in his earlier reluctance, the image of your chapped, bloody lips and bruised eyes would surely haunt him every time he closed his eyes.

Upon hearing your heartfelt admission, Izzy's mind was in a tailspin. His insticts were telling him to flee, that he should not have been here but maybe, by your beside was the only place for him to be right now. No, Izzy knew in his heart of hearts that, he should have been by your side sooner. Much, much sooner. Except extreme guilt had kept him away. That same guilt was still present, gnawing away at his subconscious like a fiendish creature of insatiable appetites. However, upon hearing you say you needed him- you needed him!- the man had experienced a perspective shift. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"It's okay." you smiled at him. Genuinely smiled at him. There was not disappointment in resent in you tone. Just pure relief that he had finally made it way to your side. Bless the gods, for answering your prayers. The road ahead was going to be one full of pain and distress but with Izzy holding your hand, maybe- just maybe- you would be able to weather the storm and survive long enough to witness those 'sunny skies'. "Just don't leave me again this time, yeah?"

As much as Izzy wanted to address your labelling of him as your 'Stede', the pirate rationalised that there were more important matters at hand. For starters, he realised it would be more productive to seek atonement for his sins, rather than allow himself to be consumed by the darkness, that threatened to drag him down into a never-ending spiral of despair. After all, how could he possibly deny such a heartfelt request from the one he was now eternally indebted to. Gods, you had called him a 'lighthouse', for fucks sake. You bewitching creature, you. In that moment, the First Mate knew, he would follow you to end of the earth, should you ask him so.

He loved you. He loved you, he loved you, he loved you!

The past was unchangeable but Izzy did have some say on how the future could play out. You had needed him that night on the ship and you needed him now. Like hell was he going to let you down a second time. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

[weezly14]

so i'm not going to respond to any individual asks - this is the blanket response to all the asks i've gotten in the past few weeks asking me when i'm going to update my WIPs, if i've abandoned them, etc. i appreciate the love, i do. i miss dust to dust, and something good and right and real, and i wanna be your boyfriend, too.

i might regret being this honest later, but fuck it, it's my blog and not enough people talk about this shit.

i'm struggling with infertility. emphasis on the struggle. i'm weepy from fertility meds, in the midst of my first treatment cycle, half hope and half fear. we're "unexplained infertility," so there's no reason why it shouldn't work, except it hasn't so far, so hope feels like a dangerous thing.

for anyone who hasn't experienced this, it's a complete and total mindfuck. i don't feel like the same person i was a year ago, before all those negative pregnancy tests. i thought i'd have a baby by now, or at least be pregnant. instead, i have a shitty not even diagnosis, and Options that are both a blessing but also invasive, and expensive, and in no way a guarantee. every month i calculate when the due date would be; think about the events we have planned for next year in terms of where i could be in a pregnancy; and every month, my period arrives right on schedule, if not a day early. i have yet to see a positive pregnancy test. it's "only" been a year, and i'm "so young," but it feels like it's been ages and like i'm running out of time.

we've been forced to have conversations about money, about how far we want to go with treatment, about when we might call it. "it's too early to think about that," you might say, but one cycle of ivf could cost $16k. we have good insurance, but are we willing to undergo more than one egg retrieval? how many failed transfers before we decide the emotional toll is too high? it's better to have those conversations now, before we have to, when we can maybe make clearer decisions. would we consider donor eggs or sperm? surrogacy? what about adoption?

meanwhile, i'm watching friends and acquaintances get pregnant with no problem, as i try not to completely isolate myself and try to track ovulation, as though timing might be the problem.

(it's not.)

i'm not the person i was before all of this, and it sucks. i'm a sadder, smaller person, i think. i'm trying my best. i'm "practicing hope" or some shit, i'm doing my best to keep my head up and stop isolating, stop avoiding my pregnant best friend, stop wallowing in the grief. because it is grief. if i get pregnant, it will be because of fertility meds and doctors, it will happen in a sterile exam room, hopefully with my husband holding my hand, if he can get the time off work. there will be no spontaneous pregnancy, no surprise. there's grief in that, in letting go of what i thought this might be like, how i thought it might go.

so yes, writing fic has fallen by the wayside. not because i want it to. i just have a hard time finding the energy to do even fun things. i miss the person who could write a lot in short spans of time, who had the energy for fic. i'd like to believe i can still be that person again. i don't consider any of those fics abandoned. i've written, i've worked on things.

but, right now, it feels like my entire life, my entire being, is consumed with this struggle to get pregnant. like my life is measured by where i am in my cycle. i look at my calendar and think, that's when i'll get my period or a positive test, so i should be mindful in what i plan. i might be very happy, or i might have a very bad day.

sometimes, the bad days feel eternal.

but i'm doing what i can. i'm trying, anyway. my therapist said i should practice hope, and i'm trying to. i'm trying to let myself believe things might work out. even though the fucking meds have made me weepy as hell, i'm trying to stay positive, and envision that this cycle could work. that on christmas day, instead of my period, i'll get a positive pregnancy test.

(because going home for christmas isn't loaded enough.)

there's an old wives tale that if you wrap a baby blanket and put it under the tree, you'll have a baby by next christmas. i'm jewish, but we're an interfaith household, so we bought a baby blanket, and we're going to wrap it in hanukkah paper, and put it under the tree. we have a hope basket in the nursery - because when we moved into this house we set aside a bedroom to be the nursery, and it's empty except for that little basket of baby things we've collected over the months, in the hopes that one day we'll have a baby to dress in the little onesies or socks. we have a running list of names. this is our version of practicing hope.

this is only our first treatment cycle. things could work. or maybe the next cycle. and then, there's always ivf. some days, i feel like it'll work for us, and we will have a baby, one way or another. other days, i wonder if i shouldn't just spare myself the pain and call it now. it's exhausting, infertility.

so, to everyone who misses my writing, and wonders when i'll update again - i don't know. i miss my writing, too. i miss being the person who wasn't so consumed by fertility shit, who could indulge in hobbies. i'd like to believe i can get back to that. but not this week.

the holidays are joyous but they're also really fucking hard, so let me be your friendly reminder not to ask people when they're having kids, or why they aren't pregnant yet, and to not tell people struggling with infertility to "just adopt" or "just relax."

happy holidays.

[dr-trafalgar-law]

Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader

3

Today was the day.

Azul had been hospitalized for two days and was ready to be discharged. The client that brought her in was coming to fill out paperwork and from that you'd find out if she was being adopted or surrendered.

You sat at your desk getting cage cards ready for the next day's appointments when Dr. Newgate approached placing his coffee cup on the marble counter.

"Chopper isn't here today?" he inquired looking around for your trainee.

"He's actually with Shachi placing a u-cath* for that doodle* thing." you answered, still busy with your task.

"Oh the brown one," he chuckled, "it looks like fried chicken-yoi."

"It has a human face," you glanced up at him, "doodles are awful."

The blonde nodded sipping his coffee, and lingered in front of you for a few quiet moments.

"Is there something I can help you with doc?" you set your pen down to give him all of your attention.

"Actually, I was hoping you could get the paperwork ready for Azul-yoi."

Your stomach dropped nervously, "Sure, I can get it together."

"Can you also highlight where it needs signatures?"

You must've looked confused as he cleared his throat and continued.

"I'm gonna go over the paperwork with her after she visits."

"You are?"

"I opened this practice, I've gone over paperwork before-yoi." he muttered quickly.

Chuckling, you began putting the packet together, "Not since I've been here."

His ears lit up as he looked away from you, "Just…"

The sound of the double doors closing shifted your attention to the client that had brought Azul to you.

Marco smiled warmly and stood up straight, "Come to see the grateful patient-yoi?"

"Yes," she glanced over to you before offering a short wave, "you said something about paperwork?"

You nodded politely and smiled back, handing Marco the folder you'd thrown together, "It's all here."

"Perfect," he praised, flipping through it and stepping away from the desk to lead her back, "This way, we'll get you back to recovery to see her-yoi."

Time passed ridiculously slowly while you waited for Dr. Newgate to come back with the paperwork. No amount of phone calls, scheduling or random self-appointed task seemed to get you any further into your shift.

It was so strange to be upset over a dog you didn't own. She was so sweet and loving, of course the client would want to take her home. For the last 48-ish hours you'd been holding on to some hope. The second Azul was in recovery and awake you'd gone back to see her -  it was love at first sight. Perhaps it was because the last dog you owned, Lazarus, was also a beautiful blue-nosed pittie. He was the best boy, but you had to say goodbye too soon due to a cancer diagnosis with an extremely poor prognosis. You saw him in her.

"I need your computer." Dr. Trafalgar declared, storming into the lobby.

You stood allowing him to take your space. He grumbled to himself and opened a form you couldn't see from your vantage point. Awkwardly you moved to the back counter to tidy up while he printed whatever he was working on.

"Here," he placed the warm freshly printed page in front of you, "fill this out and scan it into my folder on the F-drive so I can file it before the end of the day."

Your brows furrowed as you looked over it, "An adoption form?"

"She isn't taking her," he watched you process what was happening and continued, "I know you visit her during the day. You want her don't you?"

"Y-yes!" your mood shift was almost tangible.

"I'll have her discharges ready before you leave today. Bepo can go over them with you. I'm sure Newgate-ya will let you board her during your shifts so she isn't home alone."

"Right, I'll get it filled out." you beamed.

He watched your eyes fill with excitement and glanced away, "Good, I'll leave you to it."

While you filled out the paperwork to adopt Azul and changed the information on her chart* to yours, Marco had guided his visitor back up to the reception desk. To your surprise she had agreed to pay the surgery cost. You insisted that your employee discount be applied. Dr. Newgate agreed with your sentiment and with enough pestoring, she caved.

The painfully slow pace of the day continued, probably because you had something to look forward to now. There also weren't many appointments since Dr. Newgate took a half day. You tried busying yourself with tedious tasks like cleaning and inventory.

While you cleaned you made a mental checklist of everything you'd have to stop and get for Azul to be comfortable at home.

Food

A bed

New dog bowls

A harness, collar and name tags

Thankfully you still had a large kennel but you would only need that when she had to be home alone.

There was a racket in the hallway leading to the lobby - the sound of an e-collar scraping against the walls and laughter. The door opened slowly as your girl was guided through.

"There's mom!" Shachi called, leading her by the plastic cone.

Bepo followed behind with the homemade sling gently assisting her hind quarters while her tail slapped against his leg.

You immediately plopped down on the floor and held out your hands for her, "Look at you walking so well."

She licked your fingers and whined excitedly.

"She is doing really well, and we don't have a lot to go over since you'll be bringing her back in the morning." the redhead smiled.

"You'll have some gabapentin for pain, her next dose is at 8PM." Bepo handed you a small paper bag with paw prints on it, "There's also trazodone, that will help keep her calm while she recovers. There's instructions on the bottles."

"We'll do her rehab here but Law is going to email you some links to stuff you can do on the weekends with her." Shachi added.

Azul fully laid in your lap while the boys went on with the discharge instructions like you'd seen them do with every surgery patient. They also had food samples to send you home with for the evening. You'd made a plan to get things for her during your lunch break the next day.

Finally it was time to head home and get settled.

*A doodle is a poodle mixed with any other breed.

*Urinary catheter

*Chart - most of you know this - Medical file with the patient's personal information - most cases now they are digitally kept in an operating system. At a vet it is client/owner and patient information.

[spacefoxy-irl]

Another health update I guess. Female stuff etc...

So, the doctors have been searching for the inner bleeding they suspected being behind my poor blood values. I told them when I was hospitalized the first time that my periods had been unusually long and the flow had been heavy. But the doctor was like "that won't affect blood values this much." Ok then, I guess you know my body better than I do lol

So yeah I have been through several different procedures where they have been looking into my stomach etc to try and find this bleeding. Nothing came up anywhere. All normal. It wasn't until I had the gastroscopy and I told the doctor about my periods again, that he said ok we'll refer you to our gynecologist. And when I finally got sent to the place where I should have been this whole time, the culprit of my issues was found. They found 2 growths in my uterus and they said they were bleeding during my periods causing the prolonged and large periods. They also took a biopsy from both of them and I am still waiting on the results.

Now the reason why i haven't said anything has been because... my biopsy was taken on the same day Kylie found out about her mother's diagnosis. I didn't want to seem like I was doing that thing, you know the annoying thing some people do where they try to out-do you in who has it the worst? I didn't want to seem like I was doing that to Kylie.

The doctor told me these kinds of growths are usually benign but they took the biopsy just to be safe. And I guess no news is good news? It's been a while. I'm now on the pill and I'm feeling alright, not feeling anemic anymore. So on that regard, we're good. My head though, that's a whole different thing. But right now I'm feeling ok enough on that regard too. My head aches are manageable with the medication I have for those.

The only issue with the growths is that, they cannot be operated on, they will just come back. And they can get painful with time. If it gets to that, I might be facing a hysterectomy in the future. Lets hope it won't get to that because it does make me a bit nervous.

But that's it for this update I guess. I'll have to keep waiting on the biopsy results. I keep checking every day.

But oh my god I sure wanted to say "I told you so!" when I had been right the whole time.

[kdaught]

Hope you don't mind me randomly dropping into your asks but since you asked me in the tags if I've started watching Supernatural I decided to send you an update on my spn (and wincest/destiel) journey.

I've now (re)watched s1 and started s2, and some of the thougs I had when I last watched it have returned to me. I started watching it 9 years ago (quit in the beginning/middle of s8) bc I thought Destiel would be like Johnlock which I loved, but I was disappointed bc I felt that the fandom had hugely overhyped how big Castiel was as a character. I even found an old tweet of mine saying that while I do somewhat ship Destiel it's the most overrated ship I know of. I also remember feeling weirdly like the canon WANTED me to ship wincest which I, still 17 and Pure in my Moral Fandom Opinions did not want to do. I also found a tweet from me saying that Wincest is a ship I'd never ship. Anyway.

My current diagnosis is: yeah the canon does want me to ship it. I don't know what to make of it. I keep comparing it to Defan which is so interesting bc I feel like (headcanonically) Defan wants each other despite being brothers, and the brothers part just adds a level of twistedness. Wincest on the other hand wants each other BECAUSE they're brothers. Their dynamic is like, Incestuous with a capital I. And more emotionally so, like levels and levels of weirdness that is so even without being sexual, but I do think the sexual level is easy to add. But so far I'm very interested in their dynamic but I don't Ship it, more like. Observe whatever is going on. It feels too weird to read fanfics or anything about so far bc as I said, it's so deeply incestuous. Not to say I wont, but for now those are my thoughts on it.

Also I've been an outside observer of the spn fandom for years now, and I don't want to pick sides with Destiel vs Wincest, just observing the fandom is funny enough. But tbh I'm afraid sooner or later I'll get sucked into it bc supernatural fandom seems like. The hellpit of tumblr. Pun intended and all the love to the spn fans who continue keeping me entertained.

omg hi friend! So happy you decided to send me an ask and I'm glad you're enjoying yourself with spn so far!

LOL, the part about spn wanting you to ship wincest is so funny to me. Eric Kripke, the creator of season 1-5 (and cowriter of some episodes after that as far as I'm aware) once said: "Turns out I have a thematic which is tight relationships between friends/brothers with unstated homoerotic subtexts." in reference to spn, so yeah. There's that, haha.

I can definitely see the defan comparison! I think both can be equally fucked up at times but with wincest it's.... definitely more emotional. Also fun that you picked up on the emotional incestous undertones with wincest, haha. We a two whole set of tags for that:

I love this fandom so much, hah. Let yourself be dragged into the pit, ezra, we have so much content!