#life or death‚ either is acceptable. not whatever this is supposed to be...

[emstargazer]

Despite the heap of flaws in this rusty pile of wrongly tangled synapses, I could've made it work were it not for the declining autonomy of thought over the years.

[pretentious-blonde]

built to last

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington was just supposed to help you build a bookshelf. he definitely wasn’t supposed to have this much fun doing it.

warnings: none! sweet steve!!! PINING STEVE!!!

a/n: part two as promised, but can be read as a standalone.

series masterlist

Steve Harrington sat on the floor of your living room, cross-legged on the floor. A heap of wooden panels and screws spread out around him, still in their plastic bags, scattered like a mini battlefield. He couldn’t understand how many parts a simple shelving unit would contain, but that wasn’t going to stop him from building the damn thing. 

In one hand, he clutched an instruction booklet that he’d already peeked at three times, and in the other, a trusty screwdriver from the tool kit he’d lugged in from his trunk, shoved in there that morning. He really didn’t want to be caught unprepared, especially when you accepted his offer to help. And what help would he be without a screwdriver? None. It was basically furniture building 101. 

His adrenaline was finally dying down from that morning, because honestly? It had been a whirlwind day—and it wasn’t even noon yet.

He’d arrived outside Family Video nearly a half-hour early because punctuality suddenly felt like a life-or-death situation. He’d never admit that to you though, he’d probably just tell you he was an early riser, or traffic was lighter than he expected if you asked. A white lie to avoid seeming pathetic.

Truth was, he’d spent most of that time staring at his reflection in the car window, smoothing out his hair, worrying if he looked too eager—or maybe not eager enough. Telling himself not to look so desperate, then proceeding to check one more time anyway. He was just glad you could see him without the stupid company vest, that he did have some semblance of a fashion sense. Further proven when he caught you looking him up and down a few times over the course of the day. 

You didn’t know him in high school, which was both a blessing and a slight curse. He couldn’t sail by being “King Steve” and all the popularity that came with it, but maybe that was a positive thing. You were meeting just him, just Steve. You said yes to just Steve, and that was a good start. 

When you finally appeared—warm smile, eyes full of anticipation tied with that slight nervousness—Steve immediately forgot all the conversation starters he’d practised. He forgot how lovely you were up close, it threw him slightly off balance as you approached.

He couldn’t quite believe his luck: you’d actually let him help you pick out a bookshelf. Yes, it was a mundane task, but it was a chance nonetheless. He just hoped you didn’t accept because of the heavy lifting—or worse, pity.

He was hopeful that whatever this was, would put a stop to his terrible track record of recent romance. 

So, no pressure. 

He asked if you were comfortable with his car—not wanting to force you—and a wave of relief swept over him when you agreed that his trunk was indeed larger. When you both reached the passenger side, Steve—being every bit the gentleman he was trying to be—opened the door for you.

He had fully stocked the glove box with a selection of cassettes, some rock, some pop, and even some old jazz records from his dad’s study—just in case you were into that. He wanted to cover all the bases. 

You thumbed through the tapes, taking a jab at him for his eclectic tastes, which he welcomed with a faint chuckle. You chatted with him the entire drive, and it was fully welcomed, with him asking question after question, wanting to get to know you better. 

He’d tried so hard not to stare at you, but every time you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, he couldn’t help but glance your way—just to soak up the way your eyes lit up at something he said.

When you got to the store, it turned out to be bigger—and more confusing—than either of you expected, but that only made the whole thing funnier. You cracked jokes about all the weird items on display—like the life-size ceramic dog statue that looked bizarrely regal in the middle of the aisle—and Steve laughed, genuinely, relieved that he didn’t have to come up with any forced banter. It flowed out easily, like water.

When you finally found the bookshelf section, you spent time comparing finishes and sizes, your head tilted thoughtfully while you tapped your fingers against your chin. 

Steve tried to appear useful—pointing out this shelf or that one—but mostly, he just liked watching the way you beamed whenever you found something close to what you wanted. Eventually, you settled on the biggest option of all. Typical.

“I don’t want to have to buy another shelf anytime soon,” you’d explained, eyeing the tall, dark wood frame.

“Right, because buying a bigger shelf isn’t just an excuse to buy more books or anything.” Steve joked.

You’d looked at him, eyes dancing. “Obviously,” you said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

He’d grinned. Your energy matched his and his anxiety from earlier was almost entirely gone. You had a sense of humour. You were quick. He liked that.

The real task was moving the damn thing. Getting the unopened box of parts up to your place felt like an Olympic event. He nearly died hauling the massive bookshelf up the flight of stairs to your apartment—he was pretty sure one of his arms was going to give out—but there was no way he’d admit that to you. You’d offered to take one end, but he’d waved you off immediately. No way was he letting you do that. 

“I got it,” he’d insisted, heart pounding. If he were being honest, part of it was pride, sure—but the bigger part was that look of concern you kept giving him, and how nice it felt to be needed again. It had been a while since he felt that way, and it felt good. It felt really good. 

By the time the two of you managed to wrangle it up the final steps and into your living room, his arms were shaking. He pressed his lips tight, ignoring the slight burn in his shoulders, giving you a triumphant nod as if he did this sort of thing every day.

“You okay?” you’d asked, eyes flicking to the flushed look on his face.

“Yeah, totally fine,” he’d lied, trying to catch his breath. “All good.”

You’d nodded and stepped away to make coffee, leaving Steve alone with the dreaded instruction booklet. With you gone, he allowed himself a second to let out a small, nervous huff. 

He’s totally got this. It’s just like any other puzzle, right? Except it’s bigger. And 3D. And a little more complicated. But still, he’s got this... Mostly.

He spread the pieces out on the floor, still in their plastic casing, scanning for anything that looked like the logical first step. If he were honest, he’d never built anything this big before. But you didn’t know that and he’d prefer to keep it that way. 

He was so absorbed in mentally prepping for the ordeal that he almost didn’t hear you come back. But the soft clink of cups drew his attention, and he glanced up to see you standing there, holding two mismatched mugs. One was white with a blue rim; the other had some faded floral pattern along the side. 

Mismatched cups. He wouldn’t have guessed he’d find that detail adorable, but it just seemed so you—practical, unpretentious, sweet. He’d built you up in his head the days leading up to this, and now you seemed a little more human. Still nerve-wracking, but human. 

Your hair was slightly tousled from the breeze outside, or from hauling that box inside—he wasn’t sure which—but either way, you looked at home. It was a nice image. 

“Figured you might need a boost after your workout on the stairs.” You said softly, offering him the faded mug.

“You read my mind.” He picked up the coffee and cradled it for a moment, letting the warmth seep into his aching hands. “Thanks… It was honestly nothing.” he shrugged, trying to downplay how out of breath he’d been.

You lowered yourself onto the floor across from him, tucking your legs underneath you. The scene felt strangely intimate, the two of you crouched on the floor like kids at a sleepover. 

“Sure,” you said, taking a sip from your own mug, seeing through the sweet lie. “I’m kinda the one putting you to work here, so it’s the least I can do.”

Steve glanced at the scattered wood and screws, a determined look on his face. He could not screw this up. It took a lot of willpower not to glare at the instructions for a fourth time. 

“I’m happy to help,” he said aloud, his voice a touch too casual. He didn’t want you to know how sincere he was, how good it felt just to be around you—and how it had been a long time since he’d felt this comfortable with someone new. Someone who he began to click with so quickly. He could not ruin it by building this thing incorrectly.

You offered him a small smile. “Well, let me know if you need anything. I can help screw things in, or hold up the pieces, or—”

Steve waved you off, trying for a confident smirk. “Nah, don’t worry. I’ve got this covered,” he assured you, tapping the screwdriver against his palm. “You can just…supervise. Maybe read me the instructions if I accidentally, uh, if my hands are full or something”

“Sure,” you said, laughter dancing in your eyes. “I’m great at reading, by the way. Got loads of practice.”

“See? Perfect team already,” Steve replied, flashing a grin in your direction. 

He tried to stop himself from smiling too hard, not wanting to look like an idiot as he chastised himself. You're gonna scare her off.

But inside, you were fighting your own battle: trying not to show just how pleased you were that this considerate, unexpectedly funny boy had agreed—offered, actually—to spend his Saturday morning with you, building a bookshelf you could’ve probably pieced together on your own eventually. You almost felt bad for taking up his weekend. 

But you couldn’t help but think how nice it was, feeling looked after for a change, seeing him all earnest and determined to do a good job.

“If you get stuck, just say." You wrapped your hands around your mug. "Or if you want me to hold something in place.”

“Will do,” Steve promised, flipping open the manual. His brow furrowed as he scanned the step-by-step images. “I think Step One is just laying out all the pieces and checking if we have them.”

You looked around at the piles of wood. “So…do we have them all?”

“Uh…” Steve quickly counted, mind flashing back to that moment when he’d lugged the box up the stairs. He was pretty sure he hadn’t left anything behind. “I think so?”

A quiet laugh escaped you, and he couldn’t help but beam—he liked that sound. He wanted to be the one to draw it out of you again. 

Your eyes flicked down to the mug in his hands, noticing how big they looked against the delicate porcelain. Something about Steve, all broad shoulders and careful hands, handling that little cup was…endearing.

“Okay,” he declares as he puts down his drink, attention fully on the folded paper. “We got this.” he insisted, though his smile gave him away.

“You sure about that?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “Because it looks like you’re holding the manual upside down.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Listen, I’m just—this diagram is confusing, okay?”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

Still, the two of you were grinning like dorks, giggling over the supposed simplicity of what the box had promised was a “quick assembly.” The sound of your laughter mingling with his reminded Steve of an old married couple—it was playful bickering, not the tension-filled kind. And for the first time in forever, he didn’t feel that usual weight of having to be perfect.

He’d spent so much of his life chasing approval: from his parents, his ex-girlfriend, the kids—not wanting to let anyone down. But right now, with you kneeling next to him on the carpet, trying to figure out which side of a wooden plank was the top, that pressure completely melted away. He found himself bursting into warm laughter every time you caught him doing something wrong, or whenever you made a joke at his expense. He didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were just relieved you didn’t have to go through this furniture fiasco by yourself. Watching him wrestle with a piece of wood while claiming he totally had everything under control was surprisingly entertaining. His confidence, that slight puff of his chest whenever you teased him, was too endearing to ignore.

Eventually—somehow—the two of you got the shelf together, the last screw twisting into place. You both sat down in front of it, looking up to admire your joint handiwork.

“All right,” Steve declared, brushing imaginary dust off his hands. “Mission accomplished.” He turned to you with a wide grin. “You wanna put your books on it now? I could hang around—maybe help alphabetize?”

 “Yeah, no.” You snorted, crossing your arms as you eyed the imposing shelf. “That’s enough manual labour for the day. My arms will fall off if I even think about lifting anything else.”

“Fair.” He laughed, secretly glad you declined, honestly—his muscles were already feeling the burn from lugging the thing upstairs, and he had no idea how he’d look if he had to repeat that process again. Probably not cool. Definitely not cool.

Silence stretched for a second as you both looked at each other. You looked comfortable. Comfortable with him being there still. He took it as an invitation to talk to you more, not wanting this to be over just yet.

“So,” he ventured, propping up one leg, “why’d you move here, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, it’s, uh, full of character—” He shot you a grin. “But it’s not exactly high on anyone’s must-see list.”

“No one’s asked me that quite so bluntly yet.” Your voice was warm, though, and Steve saw a smile tug at your lips. “I got a job at the local newspaper. It’s not glamorous—I’ll probably be making coffees for everyone for the next few weeks—but it’s a stepping stone, right?”

He blinked. Newspaper. He was immediately impressed. Your eyes were shining with something like hope. And if there was one thing Steve Harrington admired, it was someone with hope. 

“Seriously? That’s impressive,” he said, meaning every word. “Congrats. That’s, uh, kinda a big deal.”

“Thank you.” You paused, a shy expression forming. “I’m excited to do real reporting eventually, you know?” You lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug, trying to act casual, but he could tell you were proud. He admired that.

There was a small part of him that felt a flicker of insecurity creep up the back of his neck. You’re clearly smart, and driven, but what was he? A guy who shelved videos and had questionable carpentry skills? 

The thought gnawed at him for a moment, but he forced it aside. Telling himself not to spiral in your living room, there would be time to do that after he left. 

“Couldn’t be worse than my first job,” he offered, hoping to lighten his own mood—and maybe make you laugh.

“Yeah?” You perked up. “What was your first job?”

He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… wore a sailor’s uniform. For an ice cream shop. For a whole summer.”

For a second, you just blinked, then your eyes widened. “Wait—what? Like a full-on costume situation, or…?”

“Oh God, don’t even— Look, it was a legit uniform, okay?”Steve groaned, face heating.  “Hat, kerchief, everything. It was humiliating.”

“That’s amazing,” you said, stifling laughter behind your hand. “Do you still have it?”

“Fuck no,” he burst out, shaking his head so adamantly his hair bounced, eyes narrowing in playfully. “Why? You interested in seeing that or something?”

“Maybe.” A mischievous gleam flickered across your face. 

“Wow, okay. Didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.” He gave you a gentle, teasing shove with his shoulder, trying to hide his darkening cheeks. You giggled, falling back a little, and for a moment, he thought about just closing the distance right there. 

A comfortable silence settled over the room again, your playful banter trailing into quiet. The shelf stood assembled, your coffee cups had gone cold, and the clock was ticking further into the day. He couldn’t escape the sudden awareness that this was probably where he headed home. He felt the weight of it in his stomach. You must’ve noticed his demeanour shift. 

“You okay?” you asked, voice laced with concern.

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from the door—he didn’t want to see it, not yet. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Then, softer, “I just… had a really good time today.”

“Me too.” You nodded, relief softening your features. 

“Yeah? Good,” he exhaled, fiddling with the hem of his polo. He was so close to saying something else, but the words were stuck in his throat, so he blurted them out quickly before he could lose his nerve. “’Cause, uh, I don’t want this to be the last time we hang out.”

You looked at him curiously, a small smile growing on your face. His heart hammered. Keep going, Harrington. Don’t freak out.

“I, uh—” he scratched the back of his neck. “I liked this. I like… you. And if you’d be cool with it, I’d really love to see you again. Maybe under different circumstances?”

He half-expected you to burst out laughing at him. He felt so vulnerable he could practically see his own heart beating. Instead, you just stared at him for a moment, expression unreadable, until he panicked.

“I mean, I could always come back if you need something else built,” he joked. “Like, if a table breaks or you need a chair assembled or—” He shook his head. “Sorry, that’s weird. No pressure. I—um—”

“You don’t have to make up excuses, Steve.” You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, shifting closer. “I’d love to see you again.”

He froze, eyes darting to yours. 

“Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed with a nod, and the certainty in your voice settled him.

A grin spread across his face, wide and unfiltered, and he laughed breathlessly. “Okay. Well, I’m working Monday, so…” His eyes flicked around for a second as he gathered courage. “Bring that tape back? The one you borrowed? Then I can tell you where we’re going for dinner.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tried to look nonchalant, but that pink tint gave you away. 

“Yeah, sure. I can, uh… definitely do that.”

“Sweet,” Steve said softly, practically glowing. He’s still got it. 

A few minutes later, he was slipping on his shoes by the door, shrugging on his jacket. You stood there, arms crossed lightly, eyes flicking between him and the bookshelf like you couldn’t decide which one was more impressive. 

He paused, realising this was it—time to go.

But you were looking at him with such a sweet, hopeful expression that every nerve in his body was screaming.

Kiss her.

He swallowed hard as you looked at his mouth, then back up at his eyes. A silent invitation you were too scared to initiate.

Fuck it.

In a surge of courage, he leaned in—maybe not quite as smooth as he hoped, but good enough to press his lips to yours. 

He cupped your cheek, and the second his lips met yours, a delicious, dizzy warmth rushed through his veins. It was like every nerve in his body had lit up at once—your warmth, your scent, the softness of your mouth pushing away all the lingering insecurities in his head.

You made a tiny sound of surprise, then melted against him, one of your hands curling gently into the collar of his jacket. The feeling sent a heat through his entire body, making the tips of his ears burn.

When he finally pulled back, your eyes were half-lidded, and you looked stunned. Which, for some reason, made his heart squeeze even tighter.

“Wear something nice on Monday, all right?” He told you gently, unable to help the little smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m driving.”

“I will.” You nodded, lips curving into a grin. A beat of silence before you spoke again. “See you, Steve.”

He gave a quick nod, fighting the dopey grin stretching across his face. 

“Yeah, see you,” he said as you gently shut the door. He practically bounded down the steps and into the cool air outside. Resisting the urge to shout out loud to everyone within hearing distance about what just transpired moments ago.

He made it to the car and slid into the driver’s seat, adrenaline buzzing in his veins like he’d just done something incredible—because, honestly, it felt like he had.

First thing he was gonna do? Call Robin. Obviously. Because he needed to tell someone about how he, Steve Harrington, who thought he might’ve lost his edge, just built a freaking bookshelf and scored a date in the process. Both of which he was equally proud of.

Turning the key, he let out a slow, happy exhale. Then, with a smile that refused to quit, he pulled away, your building disappearing in his rearview mirror—though the thought of you remained right at the centre of his chest.

God, he couldn’t wait ’til Monday. 

[dem0batz]

Curiosity Killed the Kitten

Sylus x MC!Reader // Love and Deepspace

Author's Note: First I was horny about Caleb's return, but catching up on the lore has me in my feelings. No smut, just emotional hurt/comfort with Sylus. All of my LADS fics take place in the same universe and is a connected story which means MC is romantically involved with ALL 5 love interests. This is just me trying to put the pieces together that we get in the game and applying it how I think makes sense in MC's situation.

Summary: After going to Skyhaven for an undercover mission and learning that Caleb is alive and well, as well as discovering some unsettling information about the Farspace Fleet and his role in it, MC returns home to Linkon City. All of the men in her life are concerned about her sudden unexpected vacation, but Sylus most of all does not accept the flimsy excuses of her brief disappearance. Content Warnings: Reverse Harem/Why Choose (MC is with all five love interests in my au), afab!MC, she/her!MC, tracking device without MC's consent, canon-typical Sylus stalking, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: ~2600 words | Read on AO3 | Chapter List

Since returning to Linkon City after your extended “vacation” in Skyhaven, you have felt an uneasiness settling in your gut. You should be over the moon that your long-dead brother wasn’t dead after all but everything about Caleb seemed… off.

There were still traces of the boy you remember. He still doted on your every need. Was still over protective in the most annoying ways and still used humor and guilt to soften your irritation. He had never been straight forward with you, always willing to do whatever he needed to protect you even if it meant keeping you in the dark. So the fact that he deflected most of your suspicious questions concerning the practices of the Farspace Fleet was not a surprise, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lied right to your face about many of the things he did answer, which was new.

He had always seemed a little haunted to you; like there were things he wasn’t saying or couldn’t say and that hadn’t changed, but the depth of it now seems insurmountable. What was it they said about gazing into the abyss? Well now, often times when Caleb looked at you, you felt the abyss gazing back. Like your caring brother was gone and the cold officer he had become was steering the wheel. You couldn’t decipher where Caleb began and the Colonel ended.

While in Skyhaven, you hadn’t received any of messages and had connectivity issues with the wifi. Initially, you had reasonably blamed the shoddy signal on the fact that you were in a city in the sky and that the near-constant storms were to blame, but after uncovering some suspicious information about Caleb’s new life, you were no longer convinced it was a mere accident. Which left you to believe either the Fleet had more of an influence on Skyhaven than anyone suspected, despite what their public policies claimed, or Caleb himself had intentionally isolated you. Both were concerning and likely had some truth to them, but the former was more painful to think about.

Your phone had been buzzing nearly non-stop since coming back to the city, updating with message after message. Messages from Xavier about hot pot and confusion about your sudden approved vacation days that you never mentioned taking; Rafayel feigning danger, saying he needed his bodyguard to come and check on him asap; Zayne concerned that he hadn’t heard a word from you after Mia’s unfortunate death and insisting you check in with him as soon as you are able.

They had been relatively easy to appease for now. You informed them all you had just returned home and would make sure to see them in the coming days— you just needed one day to sort through your thoughts and feelings about the Caleb situation. Besides, what were you supposed to say? I didn’t actually go on vacation because I went on a solo undercover mission for the Association connected to the explosion of my grandmother’s house just to find my long-dead brother/sort of ex-boyfriend is actually alive and well, and is now one of the top ranking leaders of the Farspace Fleet who may be involved in some unethical practices because I had one conversation with a little boy whom they had been searching for and he seemed to have a complete personality change in the two days after his sister’s death?

It wasn’t exactly something that could be explained in a text message.

Needless to say, your men were worried about you, but Sylus most of all. Though his messages where a lot more direct in their efforts to get to the bottom of your disappearance. They started off playful enough in their probing, but the longer you were gone, the more insistent they became.  

Mr. Crow: Mephisto reported that you packed a bag. A big one. Where are we going? 

Mr. Crow: Now he says you boarded a shuttle. Why would you do that when you have a helicopter in the N109 at your disposal?

Mr. Crow: Your return date is a week from now. Did you go on vacation without me, kitten? You never mentioned a work trip.

Mr. Crow: I know you’re a busy big time hunter but it’s unlike you to ignore my messages like this, sweetie.

Mr. Crow: Mephisto lost you. The twins can’t find you either.

Mr. Crow: Where are you?

Mr. Crow: You disappeared on me and I’m worried. This isn’t like you.

Mr. Crow: I’m very unhappy with you right now.

Mr. Crow: You can’t hide forever, kitten…

You knew without a shadow of a doubt that Sylus saw the moment you returned to the city because your mechanical bird companion was tailing you again. You hadn’t intentionally slipped his detail or left Sylus hanging during your leave. It was no secret that the Onichynus leader kept watch of you and it had actually become a welcome security over the months since you began seeing one another.

It should have struck you as odd that Sylus didn’t hunt you down during your two week stay in Skyhaven but the truth was you had been hit with near constant surprises in the floating city that you had no time to think about anything but what was happening in that moment. But now that you were away and had space to think, you were left to wonder why Sylus never came for you. Why you were able to be imprisoned on a military fleet ship against your will and your mighty crime boss didn’t track you down and bust you out.

Your phone buzzes again, shaking you from your thoughts.

Mr. Crow: Look who’s back in town.

Kitten: Will you meet me somewhere?

Mr. Crow: Turn around.

You lower your phone, eyebrows drawn together as you turn against the flow of pedestrian traffic. Your eyes flit through the decorated streets, colorful ribbons and lanterns decorating the way in preparation for the New Year. The crowd parts, making way for a hulking man in a leather jacket walking steadily toward you with danger flashing in his crimson eyes, his mouth set into a hard line. It never ceased to amaze you how Sylus was able to blend in with a crowd when he stood out to you so much. He towered over everyone and had a dangerous aura to him, yet no one batted an eye in his direction.

You gulp nervously, knowing he wouldn’t let you get away without an explanation. One you still weren’t even sure how to say. Anxiousness has your feet moving quickly as you duck into an alleyway to wait for him. You couldn’t do this with an audience. Though it’s still light out, the strings of decorations above has the alley appearing more dark than usual, allowing you to slink into the shadows and away from prying eyes. It doesn’t take Sylus long to catch up, his own shadow eating up whatever light remains as he draws closer until he’s towering above and caging you against the stone wall.

“Sylus—”

“Would you look at that? I caught myself a stray.”

His fingers curl under your chin, not-too-gently angling your face toward his. That simmering anger in his eyes softens at the sight of you, disappearing completely to be replaced with concern. He reads you entirely too well, even if he doesn’t know the cause.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

You let out a vulnerable sigh, lip wedging between your teeth to combat the sting in your eyes as the relief of this secret you’ve been holding onto is lifted off of your shoulders the slightest bit. You didn’t realize just how much you had been carrying since Caleb’s return, but if a single soft look and concerned question from one of your boyfriends was enough to make you feel like crumbling, it must be a lot.

You still hardly believed it yourself that Caleb was alive and well after all this time. Had seen him with your own eyes and yet you still felt the loss of grief from his death and the sting of betrayal at his return. A confusing whorl of emotion builds up inside your chest because along with the relief that he was alive, you felt an overwhelming sense of resentment toward him.

For so long, Caleb was the only one you saw, blinded by the tunnel vision of his affection. Then he went and died before you could navigate the complex secret relationship the two of you shared only to return from the death of a literal explosion to metaphorically blow up your life just when you had started learning how to live without him. Just when you had begun to find comfort and care with Sylus and the other men in your life. They had become your new foundation in the rubble of Caleb’s place and now he was returning from the dead to level it once again. The rebuilding process had been overbearing and painful and lonely and you didn’t know how much more you had in you to start over again.

As much as you loved Caleb, he never played well with others when it came to you. Sylus thought Zayne’s jealousy and reluctance to share your time had been a hurdle but your childhood friend was nothing compared to your brother’s jealous streak. In the handful of times you were shared between Caleb and Zayne in your youth, it was always at Caleb’s command. Nothing happened without his approval. What he said went and neither you nor Zayne ever dared cross that line to try to further explore your attraction to one another. Not until after the explosion, anyway.

A gentle thumb on your jaw brings your attention back to the present, sympathetic ruby eyes grounding you.

“Does it have to do with how much time you spent in Skyhaven recently?”

Surprise and panic flicker across your face at Sylus’s question.

So he did know where you had gone, after all.

“Please, sweetie. After all this time and you’re still surprised that I keep tabs on you?  Mephisto may well be glued to your side. And that’s not even taking the twins into consideration or counting the various tracking devices planted on you and in you.”

“Sylus!”

“What?” he feigns innocence.

“Mephisto following me is one thing but you can’t bug me! I’m an agent of the law. Not to mention, where the hell did you get plant devices that can evade government detection? And more importantly, how did you get one inside of me without me knowing?”

Sylus’s proud grin widens as a thick leather-covered arm wraps around you like a vine. He pulls you into a slow dance in the alley, no musical accompaniment or reason for it other than he wanted to and he missed you.

It soothed some of the warring emotions within you, making your irritation with his stalking tendencies dissipate. Truth be told, you were grateful that he cared so much about your safety. You know Sylus now and know that his only intentions are your safety and success. Though you wouldn’t ask it of him, he would burn the whole world down if you requested him to, for the mere purpose of pleasing you. You couldn’t same the same about Caleb, who only ever kept you in the dark about his intentions.

“You should know by now that nothing is out of my budget or reach, kitten,” he purrs.

His playful demeanor slips a fraction. To anyone else it would have been undetectable but having spent so much intimate time with the Onychinus leader, you have learned to read him nearly as well as he reads you.

“What is it?” you ask, cupping his jaw.

Sylus nuzzles into your palm, a heavy sigh puffing through his nostrils, reminding you of a mighty beast that had been tamed.

“Nothing is out of my reach,” he repeats, “except whenever you disappeared into Skyhaven. Mephisto managed to follow your shuttle all the way to the city gates but the moment he tried to cross the threshold he began to short out. He had no choice but to turn back. Once you crossed over, I also lost signal of every tracking device on your person, including this one,” his finger lightly trace a spot between your shoulder blades. So that’s where it is. “I lost the ability to track you. To keep you safe. That’s never happened before and naturally was a cause for concern.” He hesitates for a moment as if afraid to ask but does anyway. “Where did you go during your ‘vacation’?”

“I don’t know where to start,” you admit as the tightness in your chest starts to constrict to a painful degree. The cardiac event monitor on your watch begins to beep erratically, indicating a dangerous rise in your pulse oxygen levels.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Sylus pulls you close to his chest, resting your head and hand against the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat.

He talks you through the attack, his calming voice like a balm to your ringing ears. After several long moments, you feel like you can breathe again and your watch finally goes quiet.

“Yes, I’m with her right now and she seems to be coming out of it,” Sylus’s voice drifts clearly to your ears once more. His voice tightens irritably at whatever the person on the other end says. “I wouldn’t put her in that kind of danger. I called you as soon as her symptoms began, didn’t I?”

He pauses again to listen to whatever was being said, giving you a reassuring smile though he still looks annoyed.

“I can drop her off at your office tomorrow morning. Or if you’re truly concerned and thinks she needs immediate medical attention, you’re welcome to meet me in the N109 Zone in an hour.”

Pause.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll continue to monitor her and if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know. Have a nice day, doctor.”

Sylus hangs up the phone and tucks the device back into his pocket. Hearing his side of the conversation, you have an idea of who he had been talking to.

“Dr. Zayne wants you to report to his office first thing in the morning. He said he won’t clear you to return to work until you do.”

This news comes as no surprise. Since an event was triggered, you would have to answer to Zayne about the cause, yet another conversation you weren’t ready to have. But he deserves to know Caleb is back. You just didn’t know how to tell him most of all. At least Sylus, Xavier, and Raf were a degree removed from the situation. Zayne would be almost as affected by the news as you, considering that Caleb was his best friend and the odd nature of the relationship the three of you previously shared.

“You could start from the beginning, sweetie,” Sylus murmurs against your hair, lips brushing your head in a loving kiss as he reminds you of what caused your heart rate to spike in the first place.

“I can’t,” your voice croaks. “Not now. Not here. It’s… too much.”

“Okay,” he relents. “But I’m taking you home with me regardless. After spending two weeks worrying about your safety and unable to reach you, I need you with me tonight. Then after a good meal and a lavender bath soak, if you feel like telling me what’s going on, I’ll be all ears.”

The sting returns to your eyes and you grip the back of his leather coat like an anchor. You were so grateful for your dragon and the way he kept you safe, even from yourself. That when you were spiraling down a vortex he would always catch you.

“I love you, Sylus,” you whisper, throat tight with emotion.

“I love you too, kitten.”

OpaLADS Taglist: @i-messed-up-big-time

[ilguna]

☼ mixed signals (Johanna Mason) ☼

summary; it’s been years since you met Johanna, and her opinion about you has never changed. it isn’t until the night before you're supposed to be thrown into an arena, does she begin to realize her true feelings.

warnings; swearing, talks of starvation, kinda death mention, a hint at prostitution but its not explicitly said, usual hunger games stuff.

wc; 4.8k

--

It feels like it was only yesterday your name was being pulled out of the girls’ glass bowl for the Sixty-ninth Hunger Games. It’s almost impossible to believe it’s been six years since then.

You were freshly sixteen, and so very optimistic this reaping would be no different than the ones you attended in the past. Especially since you had just five paper slips mixed in, compared to the thousands of others.

If you knew what was to come…

It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. You can still remember every movement you made, every thought that passed through your mind, and every breath you took as you made your way to the stage.

The way you struggled to lift your feet, as if weights had been attached to your ankles, and you were being forced to drag them through the gravel. Your eyes were bugging out of your head, which had been displayed on the big screen for everyone to see. All you could do was wonder if you had done anything to deserve such a cruel fate. You hadn’t put your name in extra in return for food, even with how tempting it had been at times.

Was it just bad luck?

Unfortunately, it had to have been. Like how it was for the dozens of the poor girls and boys from your district that came before you. And while all of them tried to make it out of an arena alive, most of them failed to do so. No matter their background, or the head start of skills they honed, they eventually fell to another’s hand.

This made you terrified at what your future would look like. Either you would die within the next two weeks, and everything you had done to live would be for nothing—or you could win, and be forced to live with the monstrosity of your actions for the rest of your life.

Neither option seemed right to you, but it’s not like you had a choice anymore. You were going to participate in the President’s game, and you had to be smart in the way you did it to avoid digging yourself a deeper hole than you were already in.

The week you spent in the Capitol was easier than you thought it was going to be. From the outside, the events that take place every year seem to be taxing, when really there’s nothing to it. 

It’s so simple to dress up as a character for the citizens and be wheeled around the City Circle. The only miserable part had been in the Remake Center, where they ripped off every inch of hair they deemed didn’t belong on your body.

Or the Training Center, where you felt no pressure to succeed in gaining sponsors because… well, honestly, it’s not like you had any killer skills to begin with. There was nothing to hide from your peers, just too much to learn in such a short span of time. 

When your private one-on-one session with the Gamemakers came around on the third day, you spent thirty minutes trying to be resourceful by crafting items that could hypothetically help someone in an arena. A backpack, a cloth to clean water, a sleeping bag, a blanket—whatever you could with what you had at hand. 

While doing this for them, you knew it would be pretty useless to show them such a skill. Not only was it likely typical of a District Eight tribute to do so, there wouldn’t be any need for it unless there were bundles of cloth lying around in the Cornucopia in the arena.

Still, you earned a pretty six for trying. You took it as it was, and accepted the fact that you wouldn’t be lasting for very long in the arena. Maybe a week, you’d be lucky if it was any more. 

Which is why you decided not to put much of an effort into your interview, either. Why would it matter? You were just another accessory to the Games at that point. The Careers—and everyone else who had scored high—casted a shadow over the rest of you.

The truth is that even with all you had been doing for a week, you felt underprepared and at a disadvantage compared to everyone else. You had no hope.

However, while it initially felt like you were being punished for your actions in the past, it turned out that wasn’t the case at all. At least, looking back at the situation now, you don’t think it was.

The Sixty-ninth Hunger Games played out like a walk in the park.

Despite the fact you felt like you had been abandoned by the world, there must have been someone or something hovering over your shoulder, guiding you to the end of the Games. At times, it even felt like it took you over. Knowledge that you didn’t even know you had came out of the depths, saving your life on multiple occasions.

You were incredibly fortunate. You made it to the final few without having to do much of anything. All you did was survive in the trees, scavenging for what you needed, and hiding when night fell. 

And when it was time to act, the Gamemakers made sure you did. You ended up being corralled into a fight you didn’t want to participate in, and somehow found yourself the winner of it. 

Within the matter of seconds, you were announced as the winner of the Hunger Games. It was like you were standing on a stage, the lights shining down on you, presenting you to the whole world. You were their victor.

It wasn’t until you stepped off the Capitol train and you were back on District Eight soil did it finally feel like they had closed the curtains. You were no longer on display for everyone to see, and you thought that was it. You were done, forever. You were never going to be put back in that bowl again.

You weren’t supposed to be.

The rules of the Hunger Games are pretty easy to understand. First, you have no choice in the matter. Almost everyone will be put into the bowl at some point, unless there's a special circumstance and the person can’t participate. Second, you do everything your Escort tells you to do while in the Capitol, otherwise you’ll find it hard to get through the week because they’ll make your life a living hell.

Third, while you’re in the arena, don’t do anything that would make a fool of the Gamemakers. It’s non-negotiable, and you could find yourself or your loved ones in a position you can’t get out of. Further on that subject, you need to give them a show, because that’s what the whole thing is about, anyway.

Fourth, there is only one winner of the Hunger Games every year—or well, it’s supposed to be that way. This rule was broken recently by the former Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, in order to preserve the structure, but all it did was lead to an unfortunate end for him.

Fifth, you belong to the Capitol, always. While you have not experienced this one yourself, you know too many people that have fallen in the hands of President Snow and most of the elite class. And there’s nothing you can do to get out of it, unless you’re willing to sacrifice everything you love to do it.

Finally, the sixth rule, which is the most important one; you cannot be reaped for the Hunger Games twice.

And yet, for the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games, the third Quarter Quell, it was announced by President Snow that the tributes would be reaped from the existing pool of victors.

If you had told yourself six years ago that all her efforts and pain would go to waste and she would find herself being reaped to go back into an arena, you don’t think she would’ve tried as hard as she did. Or at all.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you would have done so much more. The nights you starved because your family couldn’t afford dinner for three nights straight—easily could’ve been solved with tessera. But you didn’t want to take the risk if there was even a sliver of a chance you could avoid going into the Games.

You could’ve saved yourself a lot of grief.

Instead, you’re back in the Capitol. You’re back to fake smiles and half-hearted conversations with people that are excited for such an eventful Hunger Games. As if you’re not human. As if you’re just another toy for them to play with until they get bored.

“You’re free to go.” Danika tells you, interrupting your thoughts.

She’s the newest stylist for District Eight. She was recruited a couple years after you had won your Games, the one before her had been a man. Apparently he was very successful following your victory, so he retired and opened a shop downtown to sell his clothes, or so they say.

“Anything I should watch out for?” You ask, stepping down from the pedestal she had you on.

“No, you’ll be able to move freely.” She begins to clean up the jewelry on the vanity. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thank you.” You murmur, opening the door to escape into the hallway.

Danika’s not a fan of conversation or keeping company around for longer than she has to. She’s a recluse, and there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, you respect it more than anything. In a place like this, it must be hard to keep to yourself without someone stepping on your toes, one way or another.

As you head to the warehouse, you take some deep breaths, calming your nerves. 

The idea of being in front of hundreds of Capitol citizens while wearing a ridiculous outfit is not nearly as daunting as the fact that you’re about to be surrounded by twenty-three other victors. Who all won their Games through blood, sweat and tears, while you had to do half the work and the rest was handed to you.

It makes you nervous for what this year will look like, especially considering the lineup is a killer. Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria and Brutus are the main faces of the Career pack. Finnick and Mags would be included, if it weren’t for Mags’s age. 

Then there’s Wiress and Beetee, two infamous geniuses you have heard about countless times from Cecelia–your mentor. Johanna’s here, although you’re less thrilled about her because of her attitude towards people, namely you. There’s a bunch of nameless faces in-between, but you remember who Seeder is because she mentored last year for Thresh and Rue.

At the very end of the room will be two very important teenagers who have sparked a lot of controversy as of late. Katniss and Peeta were the reason why Seneca Crane got into so much trouble. If the Twelve victors had eaten the nightlock berries, there would have been no victor, which would be unheard of. So, he saved them instead, and caused a bigger issue to come to light.

And then there’s you and Woof. 

When you step into the warehouse, there’s a line of chariots and horses, with a few people tending to them, getting ready for the ceremony that’ll take place soon. There’s not many victors and mentors down here just yet, besides the tributes from Seven, simply because their stylist has been doing the same outfit since she started the job. You’d bet she handed the costume to them and told them to get dressed on their own.

You play with the bracelets around your wrists as you make your way to the chariot to the left of them, where you’ll need to be. As you get closer, Blight takes notice, giving you a half-smile. You met him once or twice during your first year of mentoring, the next he was gone and replaced by an older victor who seemed a lot less friendly.

“(Y/n).” He says.

You give him a smile back, “Hey, Blight. It’s been a couple years since I’ve last seen you.”

“You’ve grown up quite a bit since then.” He nods.

“A little bit.” You agree, tucking your dress beneath you as you take a seat on the chariot. “Not enough, it seems. The mentoring job is harder than it looks.”

“Ah,” He nods, looking down at the cement floor. “You’ll get a hang of it. What you can and can’t control. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

A scoff comes from behind him, Johanna pops her hip out, appearing from behind her tribute partner. “Much harder for her, I can imagine. She doesn’t have anything going for her in the first place.”

You blink for a long moment, a forced smile on your face. “It’s nice to see you as well, Johanna. How was your vacation?”

“A lot more productive than whatever it is that you do.” Johanna looks you over. “Do you ever consider that your tributes would actually live if you quit?”

You stare at her for a long moment, not really wanting to engage with her today. She makes it difficult to keep the peace when you’d love nothing more than to show her the pent up frustration she’s caused within you. What you’d give to throw her down and strangle her until she turns red and purple.

Even if you were given the opportunity, you’d never actually go through with hurting her. You don’t hate her. In fact, she doesn’t bother you as much as she thinks she does. You’ve got some pretty tough skin, thanks to her. Anyone else listening to her insults would have probably crumbled from the inside out years ago. 

You’re more disappointed by how she’s taken such an aggressive stance with you, when you feel like you’ve done nothing to deserve it. You must’ve offended her somehow the first time you met her, which was the Seventy-second Hunger Games. All you did was introduce yourself and you got snubbed. It was the quickest you’ve ever been rejected by someone in your life.

You’ve tried not to take it personally, but it really is you. With everyone else she interacts with, she’s more mellow. As if she has more respect for them for some odd reason. And with you, she manages to treat you the same way she does the Capitol staff. It’s no secret that she thinks of them as lesser beings.

The saying is to kill them with kindness, but your well is beginning to run dry after dealing with her for the past three years, now going on four. 

“No, I haven’t, Johanna.” You tell her, raising your eyebrows.

“Of course not.” She looks away, taking a step back. “Cecelia was a much better mentor than you.”

Your face twists. “How would you know? You’ve never had the chance to work with her.”

Johanna’s face begins to turn a shade of red, either out of anger or embarrassment, lips pressed into a thin line while she glares at you. Blight shakes his head slightly, tired of the conversation already. 

All she does is argue with people, and while you shouldn’t be engaging, you’re tired of just taking it all the time. She treats everyone as if they don’t have feelings of their own, which she could very well be hurting. But why would she ever care?

“Shut up.” She snaps at you.

“Good one.” You murmur, looking away from her to the other chariots.

You can hear the sound of her heels clicking against the ground as she walks around Blight to stand in front of you. You stare at her boots, which have been designed to resemble the base of a tree with thick roots twisting out, before you slowly look up at her.

“I’d be careful making enemies so soon.”

“Enemy.” You correct her. “Singular. It’s just you, Johanna.”

She crouches down, getting to your level as if you’re a child. “Even if that was remotely true, I wouldn’t need help to track you down in an arena.” She tells you. “You’re so gullible and soft. Don’t think for even a moment you’ll be able to hide your way out of this one, pansy. You got lucky the first time.”

You stand, jaw set, shoulders squared. She slowly stands at her full height again, which is right at your eye level, thanks to the heels Danika has you wearing. You raise your voice, “Are you threatening me?”

This catches the attention of the Peacekeepers, who turn in your direction immediately. They hesitate, not necessarily moving quite yet, gauging the situation first to see if they really need to intervene. 

“Clever.” Johanna looks unamused. “I should’ve guessed you can’t fight your own battles.”

You shake your head. “You don’t want me to. So, get the fuck out of my face.”

—

If the Gamemakers previously thought for even a moment that the Capitol week would go as it normally does, it’s clear to see they don’t think that’s the case anymore. The way they reacted to the attendance on the first day in the Training Center as opposed to the third is telling on its own.

If you hadn’t been encouraged by Cecelia to go represent District Eight to the Gamemakers, you wouldn't have gone at all, like many others. Especially since Woof got the pass to stay in the apartment since he’s elderly, and moving him from one place to another takes more effort than it's worth.

Only about half of the victors showed up, most of them you already know. It appeared like it was going to be a waste of time being there if you couldn't make new connections. And it would’ve been, if it weren’t for the fact that Katniss and Peeta were there.

Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, residents of District Twelve. The two new fresh faces to the victor world, the reason why rule number four—only one winner per Games—had been broken. Due to a tactful last-minute suggestion by Katniss, herself.

Katniss is a skilled hunter, or well, it’s speculated that she is. From what you’ve gathered based on body language and the way she carefully phrased the way she talks about hunting, it must be incredibly illegal to hunt outside the fence. You think she mentioned in one interview the fence that surrounds Twelve is electrified, and everything she has caught has been inside.

She was very specific when she talked about it. As if she didn’t want to lie about how she survived all these years, but she didn’t want to get herself in trouble in her district and risk getting arrested. 

Either way, whether she hunted inside or out of the fence, she must’ve picked up a knack for identifying plants. She was able to navigate her way through the arena well, at one point she’d even peeled bark off of a tree to gnaw on while exploring the trees, a move that you haven’t seen before.

On the final day in her Games, the Gamemakers decided that they would revoke the previous announcement of a rule change they had made a week or so prior. Which was basically if both tributes from the same district survived until the end, they would make an exception and bring them both home. In hindsight, this was a ploy by the Gamemakers to bring Katniss and Peeta together to continue to play into the star-crossed lover look. 

When Katniss and Peeta realized they had been led on by the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, they took the situation into their own hands. Or rather, Katniss remembered she had a handful of poisonous berries in her bag. At the time of watching this happen, you had no idea which berry it was.

You would later come to find out it was nightlock, a berry you also have in District Eight, way out past the fields.

Katniss made the decision that if he wouldn’t go home, then she wouldn’t either. And right before it touched their lips, Seneca panicked, and allowed them both to win, anyway. It saved her and Peeta’s life, but you can’t imagine the repercussions that came along with it.

Especially if Seneca’s punishment was death.

So, when you saw the teenagers in the Training Center, you knew you wanted to be a friend of theirs, at the very least. If they didn’t want to be your ally, it was fine with you, but you wanted them to see you as a friendly face, before and during the Games.

You didn’t approach them, you let them come to you, one at a time. They split up after Atala, the Head Trainer, had made her usual speech on the first day. While you went to go learn first aid, they had gone off to do their own thing. Before you knew it, you had Katniss and Peeta learning beside you, having light conversation, before they went off on their own.

It worked out in your favor, because yesterday morning, as you were leaving the apartment to head to the Training Center for day two, Cecelia stopped you. She said, “I don’t know what you said to those kids in District Twelve, but Haymitch wanted me to pass along their offer of being allies. It was extended to Woof, as well.”

You would say they’ve taken to you since then, but that would be a lie. They’ve been very polite, as if they’re hoping that if they’re well-mannered, they’ll be able to convince you to say yes. However, against your better wishes, you’ve been learning towards telling them no.

And it has something to do with Johanna.

“Come on, (Y/n).” Finnick has his arms crossed over his chest, he’s leaning against one of the many concrete pillars, watching you look over the knives on the table before you. “It’s important.”

“I know, you’ve told me several times.” You tell him, pressing the tip of a blade to your finger.

“And you’ve still yet to give me an answer.” Finnick tilts his head. “We have two days before the Games, we need to know if you’re with us or not.”

You let out a sigh, lowering the knife to look at him. “Finnick, I would be more than happy to join the cause, if you can guarantee she won’t be a part of it.” You point the blade at Johanna, who’s swinging an axe in the air.

Finnick follows your gaze, and doesn’t move for a long moment, as if he’s actually considering your ultimatum. Then, he looks back at you, face twisted into a puzzled look. “You don’t like Johanna?”

“Nope.” You tell him, popping the ‘p’.

“But you like everyone.” Finnick says, eyebrows still pushed together.

“I like everyone?” You repeat, a little offended. “No, Finnick, I like people that treat others with respect and kindness. Does that sound like Johanna to you?”

You stare at him, waiting for a response. Finnick shakes his head, looking down at the concrete flooring.

It’s a shame that Johanna and Finnick are such good friends, because he doesn’t have the same personality she does. With no cameras and no strangers looking in, Finnick had a completely different persona. He’s funny, he’s talkative, he’s smart. He’s much more than the holier-than-thou casanova the Capitol has made him out to be.

While Johanna—being rude is her entire personality and it’s gotten old. 

“Johanna is a hypocrite.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Finnick, she likes to talk about how District One and Two are privileged and need to get off their high horse, and then went and called me a bad mentor and a pansy.” You set the knife down on the table, tilting your head at him. “Just because I don’t advertise my trauma doesn’t mean I’m any less of a victor. That final fight did numbers on me, I almost died before they even got me in the hovercraft.”

“I know.”

“Well, I’m glad.” You tell him sarcastically. “But she doesn’t seem to get it. And until I get an apology, I’m not doing anything that involves her.”

—

The final interview with Caesar is by far your least favorite activity the Capitol has you do before they send you into the arena. By the time it comes around, you’re always sick of the antics around you. Although, usually you’re a mentor looking in.

You love Cecelia, but she will not let the alliance offer go. You knew that it would be a mistake mentioning it to her as soon as she told you that she was going to ask for more details from Haymitch, since he’s the one organizing it. Now that she knows what it really means and what it’ll entail, she’s insisting for you to take the offer and push through your growing hatred for Johanna. 

She seems to think you’ll regret not joining, and while that may be true, your time in the arena’s already going to be miserable. And you told her this, you even asked why would you intentionally make it worse by being around her for the duration of it? And then you made the bigger mistake of saying, “Especially since Johanna only brought herself to give you a half-assed apology after Finnick had to tell her to do so.”

It’s been a miserable couple of days.

“Final touches.” Danika tells you, pulling out a spray. “Close your eyes and suck your lips in.”

“What is it?” You ask, following her directions and holding your breath for a brief moment while she sprays a cold mist over your exposed skin.

“Glitter.” She murmurs. “Open your eyes and look in the mirror.”

When you see yourself, your breath hitches in your throat. Danika really went out of her way to make you look beautiful. It’s nothing compared to what she’s done in recent years. Maybe it has something to do with the fact this may be your last. 

You run your hands over the silky dress, taking time to look over every inch of fabric that has been sewn to look like a dress that belongs to a princess. The only thing you’re missing is the crown, which you suppose you had at one point, placed on your brow by President Snow, himself.

“Thank you, Danika.” You smile, looking at her. “It really is your best work.”

“I know.” She tells you, voice soft. “I’ve been saving it for a special Hunger Games, I never thought I’d have to use it so soon.”

“Look on the bright side, if I win, you’ll be really famous.” You laugh.

She gives you a smile. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, again. It was nice being able to work with you, both as a mentor and as a tribute.”

“Likewise.”

You leave the dressing room, heading into the hallway. You’d be confused on where to go if you haven’t been down here a hundred times. It all looks the same in the Remake Center, with the white brick walls and the concrete floor. There are no signs on the wall to direct you where to go.

Since you know this place like the back of your hand, you turn to the right, and follow the straight hallway until it ends. There, you turn left, and find the gathering of colorful victors on the other side.

Finnick spots you right away, and standing beside him is Johanna. There’s a brief exchange between the two of them before Johanna hikes up the bottom of her gold dress and begins to come in your direction, determined. 

You can’t help the irritated sigh that escapes you, you come to a stop completely, letting her come to you.

“What is it?” You ask when she comes within earshot.

“(Y/n), I’m sorry.”

“So?” You ask, watching her face drop. “Johanna, what do you think an apology is going to do when you’ve decided to torment and threaten me repeatedly?” 

She shakes her head, raising her shoulders to shrug but doesn’t drop them quite yet, “I’m going to drop out of the alliance. You’ll be safer with them than you’ll be by yourself.”

Your face scrunches, “Why do you care if I’m safe or not? I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. I just…” She clenches her teeth, sighing through them. “I’m sorry, I never meant to go that far. Find Finnick in the arena, he’ll take care of you…” She trails off, turning around to leave.

While she walks away, you swear you can hear her murmur under her breath, “For me.”

[hiding-under-the-willow]

If the hermit recap team is a paranormal investigation group I wonder what everyone thinks of them, at least Ghost-wise. Are they good at their job? Or do the ghosts watch them flail?

Okay so there's this episode in the show where the main characters attempt to get the ghosts to put on a big show of haunting the house for a bunch of paranormal investigators so they can charge people for ghost tours but all of the ghosts go on strike so they have to fake a haunting in a house that's already haunted. There is a subplot in this episode where a pair of ghosts spend the entire episode presenting a fake radio show to a recording device that's supposed to pick up ghosts, only for it to be revealed at the end that it doesn't actually work and it didn't pick them up at all. I was thinking about this episode both when creating Joe's character and when I decided I wanted the recap team to be reoccurring paranormal investigator characters.

Because I think it would be pretty funny if Joe, who was a radio host in life and can be heard through radios, recording devices, and other technology in death, did this whole bit, only for the team to come back at the end to pick up their recording device, listen back to the recording, briefly getting excited, only for Pix to go "Wait a second, I know that voice, wasn't this guy on the radio back in the 90s?" And they assume that Grian and Joel just played like a rerun recording of one of Joe's old shows as part of the fake haunting, meanwhile Joe can't decide if he should be fuming because his existence is being ignored or if he should be beaming because someone still recognized him some 20 years after his death.

And then they show back up at Grian and Joel's door two weeks later like "We checked this recording, it doesn't exist. Anywhere. And according to our research this guy died on your property. This recording is real. This kind of proof is unprecedented. Please let us investigate your house again."

And so Grian and Joel once again see the opportunity for money and accept. The ghosts continue to stay wary, refusing to directly interact with them, but they tend to just. Create proof on accident as they go about their normal wacky business. And so we have this dynamic where the recap crew keeps coming back to investigate, getting some kind of absurd evidence of ghosts, getting accused of faking it because the house already has a bad reputation for fake hauntings, and the recordings they're getting are absurd, and so they keep having to come back to try to get more.

I like to think Joe starts fucking with Pix by only talking to him when there's no cameras rolling, and so the two end up with a pretty funny relationship where Pix can have full conversations with Joe and yet can never manage to get another recording of him no matter how sneaky he thinks he's being about it.

Half of their job just becomes trying to deal with this one stupid absurdly haunted house that is dragging their entire reputation through the mud. And Grian gets to be like "Ha, yeah, you should try living with them." While trying to skirt around the fact that he can just straight up see and talk to all of them. Plus there's whatever the fuck is going on next door.

Just. this should be the general state of things by the time it's all over

I think it'd be really funny actually if Pix managed to figure out down to the most minute of details what the fuck is happening between these two haunted ass properties and the people and ghosts living in them but the whole experience has run him so ragged and made him sound so insane that everyone thinks he's just lost it and no one believes him. Ghosts so fucking annoying he has to either retire or become a disgraced conspiracy theory youtuber who exclusively talks about the ghosts in these two houses. Everyone thinks he's had some kind of mental break and honestly he probably has but everything he's saying is actually correct.

[suguru-getos]

-> happy birthday toru 💗

this is mostly a very personal concept to me but i just love the idea of this. happy birthday to the loml satoru <3 and to @literallythestrongestever my angel my baby 🥹🥹

this drabble contains violence, and abuse, and a lot of healing and comfort after. it takes you through a journey of the reader accidentally switching and shifting in realities from her toxic, abusive and psychotic husband gojo to the one she lives in currently.

the squelching sound of a stabbing wound, how it feels as if you were witnessing it first hand. as if you were in the depths of hell. a man you don’t know, gutted you. the pain— why isn’t it paining— is she already dead? why isn’t the ache registering into the marrow of her bones, the essence of her soul.

no— wait! it’s satoru— he looks different, wait— where is she again? the scenaries change faster than her mind can process. overwhelmed, brain begging for mercy. satoru— yes, her husband— yes— gojo satoru— why are there so many lights— focus, she needs to focus. it feels like death, it feels like drowning in an endless dark trench of nothing. a black hole sucking her life, scraping her marrow with a spoon as she watches from outside.

sounds— spoons tinkling, smell— the smell of kikufuku, the sound of nails against a board. make it stop— satoru?

satoru…

satoru gojo…

yes, yes, he will… he will ground her. he has to, he said he will. he’s going to no matter what. yes, she should-

satoru is sitting next to her, watching her keen eyed as she wakes up from a long, disturbing, forced slumber of mind amputation. humans shouldn’t be forced to the infinite void. he knows that. but she — she’s so fierce & she’s so strong she doesn’t bend to his will. and sometimes it’s better she just shuts up. for good… not with death though, he can’t see her die. he can’t see her live either…

there is a sickening guilt that eats away at his thumping heart, when her eyes meet his, the life beneath them needs searching. buried deep. and his icy blue eyes hate the sight. he hates what she makes him… “i am so sorry, babycakes… i didn’t mean to get mad.”

when people get mad, they yell, they scream, they— depict in ways which are human. how is an honoured one supposed to depict he’s angry, disappointed…. the consequences wouldn’t be so humanly either. she wonders why are there consequences even? isn’t love all about acceptance? isn’t that why she married him…

the next thing she remembers is something that makes her scream in agony, vocal chords strained from the trauma of it all. satoru couldn’t let her get away with trying to escape now. no one could help her. especially when he has ao, aka, kyoshki murasaki at disposal. or maybe he just needs to hold her tighter, watch the audacity crumble right with her bones. fragile & weak, human, delicate….

his eyes, always expressive, show no signs of remorse, or relent. “what? can’t face the consequences after what you do?” why does she dare to run— and challenge— and go against him, the god? gods don’t punish with a slap across the cheek now do they?

she knew, whatever their souls were made of, satoru’s soul didn’t belong to her. “i would be gouging your eye out, an eye for an eye. hmm? don’t you think it’s fitting since you want to hurt me by wanting to die?” the scene shifts, that’s all her life has become. a series of scenes… of shifts… until one day, she did choose death. chose to beat the hollow purple and the infinite void and everything else that comes with it if she were to escape.

watching the blood drain out of her body, with such an eager desperation & passion to lose herself. the sense of what made her alive. the heart. the stupid heart that fell for satoru gojo.

it felt like the sweetest slumber, the one that lulls you into silence when you sip on a little sangria, or when you eat something sweet. or when you live in a world without worries.

only… when she woke up, something had changed. she was in a different room. shit—

“hey- fuck she’s awake!” her heart sinks, the melted honey like voice was much too familar. she glanced over the man, who was grinning ear to ear. the deep, rubble akin chuckle escapes from his parted, beautiful lips. “champion really!”

satoru hates that this girl he doesn’t even know, but saved from a curse — looks so akin to wilted petals…. meanwhile, she doesn’t know where she is, this reality feels different, something intangible about it. to him, she looks around. pursing her lips, eyeing satoru’s fingers for the familiar marriage band, eyeing hers… she doesn’t have it either.

“my name is gojo satoru.” he spoke again, watching her flinch. yes, yes, she knows. she has brandings of satoru in several forms in her body, in her psyche. “i am… y/n.” she mumbles, she doesn’t know if this is just a plot by satoru to pretend that nothing happened.

“are you married?” the next question takes the man off guard. there was no sense of anticipation behind those eyes— just, dread. “jeez i know i’m pretty!” he giggled, headpatting her gently. “nope, single as a pringle. but don’t worry, we could go on a date once you get better pretty girl.” that was smooth, very unlike her satoru… there was no pressure she felt.

maybe she was choosing a familiar hell than an unfamiliar heaven all over again. maybe she’s dying and these are the last few memories in her head. her eyes are heavy again, this time satoru holds her hand. the touch so different, it’s satoru… but it’s different. “sshh~ it’s okay, go to sleep.” his voice balms.

and she’s awake again… definitely not dead… “i don’t know why i’m keeping a watch over you honestly.” he hums, the eyebags visible from strain. he doesn’t look like he has slept in days. “but i want to.” he expresses. and like it was second nature to her, a fool’s nature— the nature of a broken heart of being the more loving one, the words just come out in a silent plea. a desperate attempt of an abused child to apologize hoping there wouldn’t be any consequences. “sorry— m’ just a bother— toru.”

satoru has never heard anyone call him toru. the gentle tone, the submissive venom he wants to suck out of that. “hey— i’m not complaining.” he pouts, looking at her, easing into her frantics by a smile. “besides you’re just so pretty i couldn’t keep these eyes off ya!” he doesn’t know why he’s behaving like this, women… don’t really mean much to him. he has a job, a busy schedule. he doesn’t understand how this woman he found during a mission, enclosed in a curse’s womb, is making everything stagnant.

she blinks at him like a nervous cat this time, until her tummy decides to roar and make hungry noises. the holds onto it, pouting softly, a tender flush spreading across her cheeks like butter on warm toast. “heh, s’ okay little one. what would you want to eat mhm?” satoru asks, noting that her brain didn’t have the capacity to think. maybe being enclosed in a curse does that to you. “i think.” he clicks his fingers, “you’d loveee a nice nutritious sandwich.” he croons, leaning in. again, not missing the flinch.

he is quick to lean back, the flinching hurts. it hurts like his person was harmed. it hurts like he trusted his pet with someone and found them injured later. it hurts like battery acid in his throat. “yeah?” he smiles again, just wanting her to say something.

tears sprawl across her cheeks. “m’ sorry satoru. please don’t be mad.” she says it with such conviction & confidence that satoru is mad. he isn’t. he would never be… she says it like she knows him. “hey— sweetheart, what’s your name?” he knows it’s too much, too soon— but his hands feel like they’re corroding in acid and she’s the only thing that could stop it. he has to cup her cheeks softly, “i’m not mad at you, why’d i be mad at you?”

she doesn’t answer, heart racing, a bead of sweat forming at her forehead. “satoru please-“ she wants him to stop playing with her. lips wobbling at the grief, the fear and the crumbling anxiety rising with every moment. she leans in, like a toddler hugging their caregiver if they’re caught doing something naughty to escape the consequences. clutching at satoru, bawling, again — akin to a toddler. “please toru— didn’t think- much— please it wouldn’t happen again i’m sorry—“

satoru doesn’t understand anything, and also understands something. “do you know me?” he asks, voice low, calm, careful. strong arms caging her in a tight, yet kind hug. delicate…. she’s so… fragile and delicate, like a precious ornament.

“i don’t know what’s happening—“ she exclaims, tears irritating those beautiful eyes. reddening up. “it’s okay—“ satoru coaxes again, gently rubbing her back. “you’re okay, i’m not mad at you. i would never be mad at you.”

“….i promise y/n.” that is such a big promise to keep if he wants to actually see his entire life with her. something he just decides on immediately. no questions, or doubts… or discrepancies… he knows he would keep his promise. “even if you do hurt me, i wouldn’t be mad at you.” he says it with the matching conviction of her beliefs of satoru’s rage. it calms her down. and satoru has never felt happier. he has never felt this exhilarated…. not even when he won over special grades.

one thing about satoru gojo, he always walks the talk. he means it with the heart. even when he said he would keep her happy, even when he hugs her through nights she can’t sleep, even when she repeats endlessly about what happened to her, with her. with an alienic version of him from a different reality, even when she rejects him & he lets her exist while still flooding her life with unbounding love. even when he confessed about wanting to marry her, and wanting to love her to excruciating happiness.

what’s a man ready to move mountains against trauma? an unstoppable force.

“s’ less sweet!” her five year old daughter makes a face. she is the perfect dna copy of her father. gorgeous blue eyes, silky white hair. the same gentleness with the way she treats her mommy. it’s all learnt from daddy after all.

“oh honey is it?” she tastes the cake batter, shuddering. both her daughter and her now husband have such a sweet tooth. “daddy’s birthday needs to have sweeter cakes uh nu!” she chuckles, kissing her forehead and adding a generous amount of sugar. “daddy’s gonna be so happy mama!” she gleams again, at her mother. who was nodding happily, just remembering what life used to be and what life is, now.

she married satoru again, although this time it didn’t come with insanity and violence. satoru was patient, didn’t touch her for two years, just sweet lovesick kisses and nothing else. she knew he yearned but the smile on his face would almost make her think he’s happy with just what he gets…

her phone buzzes with a call, immediately rushing and picking it up. “toru!” the gleam of her voice and the intensity of her is back.

“princess!” he whines over the phone, “i miss you soooo much oh my god—“ he hums, chuckling when she giggles, “you are just out to get candies, not even five minutes are gone—“

“i missed you!” satoru repeats again, “take me seriously i am dying here!”

“happy birthday toru, come home so i could kiss you, then you’d decide if the candy’s sweeter or the cake.”

the moments these words parted from her throat, she feels a familiar gust of wind, satoru is impatient and would teleport sportingly over shorter distances. “mm~ my lady, m’ here for the kiss.”

his hand wraps around her waist, locking her body against his. delicate… his fragile little princess. she gets on her tippy toes, brushing her lips against his with a hum, whispering gratefully. “happy birthday toru.”

“thank you, my present.”

a familiar tiny foot stomping is heard, “where’s my kissies?” their daughter tugs at daddy’s pants. satoru picks her up as if she weighs nothing, (she does not) and peppers her entire face with kisses. the sound of child like giggles fill the room, followed by the soothing aroma of baking satoru’s favorite cake.

satoru.

satoru gojo.

yes, yes, he did… he did ground her. he had to, he said he will & he did it! he’s going to no matter what. yes, she should— she should just live now. she doesn’t need to survive anymore. <3

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 7/30

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words. Tags will be added as the story is written.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: This part will tell you exactly what happened between Jungkook and Doohoon. I also had to add a little dirt. Did't ya? 🤭😏 I hope you still like it 🥺💜

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: Dedicate this work to my darling @myjungkookthighs I so appreciate all your love for my story and your endless support. This story is for you.💜🥰

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 7. A good student.

The kettle you put on makes a characteristic sound to let you know that it is boiling. You hear the sound but don't pay attention to it because your attention is focused on your friend.

You hear your blood pulsing. You're shocked, puzzled, and maybe a little angry that Jungkook knew about Doohoon's arrival and didn't say anything to you. Whether he should have, you don't quite know. On the one hand, the three of you were friends. And before Doohoon isappeared, you were also on good terms with him, so you think Jungkook should have told you.

You look at your friend and he doesn't look at you. You ask him, but you don't hear an answer.

"Jungkook, why aren't you talking?" - You start again. You're so tired of having to get everything out of Jungkook bit by bit. "It's so annoying..." - You were angry. "Why don't you ever tell me anything? What could have happened between you two that I can't know?!" - Jungkook clutched the TV remote in his hands. You could see his jaw tense.

"Did you kill someone? Or were you caught stealing? Did you sell drugs? What? What happened? What did you fight about?" - You speak in desperation. Whatever they did, you accept any version. The main thing is that he talks.

Jungkook finally looked at you. He hesitated, wondering if you should know what happened then. It was a matter you couldn't possibly know about. Because that incident was no longer just a childish sparring match for a place in the competition. Things happened then that led to Jungkook working where he does now. And you're not supposed to know that either.

But your eyes are so angry, your expression is tense. Maybe to calm you down, he should tell you what really happened four years ago. He does, but not the whole truth.

"We didn't kill anyone or sell drugs." - Jungkook said, reassuring you. "But there was something illegal we were involved in." - You felt your heart pounding in your chest. Something illegal? You were glad that Jungkook was finally talking. It hadn't even been a century...

"What exactly are you talking about?" - You ask cautiously, trying to steady your tone so that Jungkook doesn't stop talking.

"Doohoon came to me one day and said we could make some decent money." - Jungkook says, looking at you. "By fighting illegally. They were organized by some small company that ran a casino and a nightclub. He told me that the owner had noticed me and him at one exhibition fight we participated in. He will offered Doohoon and me good money if we both fought in him club." - You tried not to open your mouth when you heard what Jungkook said. Oh my God, were they really involved in illegal fighting?

"I didn't want to at first, but Doohoon persuaded me. He said that he was a very influential person, and if he paid attention to us, we shouldn't refuse. Besides, the money was really crazy for us at that time." - You blinked your eyes and remained silent. Jungkook continued.

"I performed there more often because for me was paid more. Doohoon didn't mind, although I was afraid he'd act like he did in school. But he seemed to be okay with it. This man paid me 2 million won (almost 1.5 thousand dollars) for one fight." - You couldn't help but open your mouth when you heard the amount of money Jungkook earned. His scholarship at the time was 900 thousand won (about $640).

It was pretty good money because Jungkook was a good student and had a high ranking at the university. But 2 million won, how much did those who organized it earn back then? To say you were shocked is an understatement. Jungkook noticed your expression and laughed nervously.

"Yes, I'm rich." - He joked. Or not joking.

"Jungkook..." - You stopped and tried to ask the right question. "You really earned that kind of money?" - You couldn't believe it.

"Yes." - He said. "Doohoon earned less, but it was decent. I almost never told him the real amount of money I was paid, but lied to him that I was getting the same. I did it so he wouldn't go crazy again. In short, we did this to a certain point. I was offered to perform in a "super fight"" - Jungkook put the last words in quotation marks. "It was a series of fights. If I win all of them, I get almost 10 million won. They also promised to sponsor me and help me start my career in the UFC. It was a tempting offer. I thought about it for a few days, and Doohoon put a lot of pressure on me. Because he was also promised mountains of gold for bringing me to them." - You listened to Jungkook without interrupting and wondered what was going on. Your hair was standing on end. "I agreed. Although I don't understand why at all. I didn't want to fight in the UFC, I wanted to be a professional taekwondo fighter, not a UFC fighter. Maybe the easy money played a role here. On the day of the "super fight, Doohoon was with me. I had beaten 3 opponents and had 2 more to go. I felt bad. I didn't have the strength to fight two more. But Doohoon was constantly bothering me, telling me every time what a big prize awaited us both. When I was almost exhausted fighting the 5th opponent, who was twice my size, I thought I was going to be beaten to death." - Jungkook admits, and you gasp in horror. Jungkook laughs sadly as he recalls what happened.

"Oh, my God, Jungkook, why did you agree to this? Could they really kill you? Doohoon s a piece of shit. Why didn't he agree? Stupid, weak-assed coward!" - You were angry. You were calmed by the fact that everything must have been fine, because Jungkook was sitting with you now, safe and sound.

"Yeah!" - Jungkook agreed. He continued. "I would have been killed if it wasn't for the police who came to the club that day. Someone ratted the place out and the police arrived in. Doohoon escaped, and I was taken to the hospital, and then I had problems with the police for a while. I took the blame because Doohoon asked me not to tell anyone that he was involved. I didn't talk about him, but when we met at the university, because when I was in the hospital he didn't come to see me once, I couldn't help but hit him. Because he came and was like, ’My friend, I'm so glad to see you, it's good that you're okay.’"- Jungkook impersonating Doohoon’s.

"Did you hit him first?" - You asked. "But he told me he attacked you first." - Jungkook looked at you, because almost the entire time he was talking, his head was down and his eyes were elsewhere.

"Really?" - Jungkook laughed. "He said the same thing to the university rector. I hit him because I didn't care anymore, I knew I was going to get kicked out, but this asshole wanted to play the hero and took the blame. When the rector said he would be expelled, he humbly agreed. We left the office and he said to me: "Now you and I have no debts to each other. You took the blame before the police, and I took the blame before the rector." I wanted to hit him again but restrained myself. I never saw him again."- Jungkook finished.

He lied about the last part. Because it was not the last time they met. After a while, they met again, but in completely different statuses and on different sides of the barricades.

"Gosh, Jungkook is some kind of shit!" - You swore. "I called you almost every day then, and you lied to me." - You complained.

"I didn't lie to you, I just didn't tell you." - He justified himself.

"Your voice was as usual, why didn't anyone know you were in the hospital? Did you stay there for a long time?"

"Yes, almost three weeks. I needed to let the wounds on my face and body heal. The main thing is that I didn't have any fractures." - He says. You're clicking your tongue. What kind of an idiot is he? Was that money worth his health and, most importantly, his life?

"Your parents didn't know either, because if they had, I would have known." - You say. Jungkook nods his head in the affirmative.

"Yeah, I tried really hard not to let them know." - He says with a smile.

"You're an idiot, Jeon. There's nothing funny about this. I'm shocked. Sometimes you act like super an asshole." - You get angry, glaring at your friend. He smiles even more.

"So did you get the money?" - You ask out of sheer curiosity.

"Yes. I got the money on a card from some sports foundation." - Jungkook replies.

"Didn't the police find out about the money?" - You continued to ask.

"No, they didn't, because I got it when Doohoon was expelled, and that expelled after the police let me go." - Your friend said. You think it's just some kind of horror story. How could he get into such a story. Also made so much money. He could easily start a business, but he works for some people.

"Now you know everything." - Jungkook summarizes. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew how angry you would be with Doohoon. But now it doesn't make sense, it's long gone and everything is fine now. Besides, I didn't know how you'd react to me fighting illegally..."

"You're wrong, now I'm even more angry with that asshole. And if he ever catches my eye again, I'm going to smash him against the wall." - You threatened. "And about the illegal fighting, you killed me. I never thought you would be involved in something like that. If your mom found out, she would die." - You complained. "But it's not as bad as killing people or selling drugs. That's why I'm glad you got rid of it." - You finished. Jungkook is tense at your words, but he's good at hiding it.

You don't know the whole truth, and you never will. Because the things you just said are part of his current life and work. He has to protect you. You will never know who Jungkook has become. And the fact that Doohoon has shown up now doesn't sit well with Jungkook. If he's up to something, and he's going to use you somehow, he'll wipe him out.

Jungkook looks at you when you look at what's on TV. So beautiful, so sweet and so innocent. You have no idea what Jungkook has to deal with every day. Now that you're even closer to him, he's paralyzed with fear. What if someone can harm you, or you accidentally find out about his work. He needs you because you're the only thing that keeps him sane.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" - You suddenly say, bringing him out of his thoughts. He smiles slyly.

"You're so grumpy and angry. Do you want to kick Doohoon’s ass on my account?" - Jungkook reaches for you. He pulls you close and strokes you. You smile.

"Yeah. He's a piece of shit. When did he get like this? Or was he born this way?" - You wonder out loud.

"He's probably always been like this. We just never noticed." - Jungkook says. He kisses the top of your head.

"We should have learned our lesson back in high school. Because you made up with him, he put you through this shit." - Jungkook's voice vibrates with laughter.

"Stop swearing." - He laughs. "It's okay..." - Jungkook is silent for a moment and then speaks. "Y/N. Promise me something." - He says. You turn your gaze back to him.

"What?"

"If Doohoon wants to get close to you, don't let him. If he calls or texts you, don't answer." - Jungkook says. You're about to speak up when he interrupts you. "You don't have to stand up for me and talk to him about it... I really appreciate it, and I've already heard what you think of him, but please don't see him again. He could be dangerous." - Your friend says seriously.

You think about it and decide that he is right. It doesn't make sense, you really should forget about Doohoon. He hasn't been a part of your life for a long time. So this time, you're going to listen to Jungkook for sure.

The only thing you don't understand is why he could be dangerous. Maybe Doohoon is doing something similar? It doesn't matter. You're going to do what Jungkook says.

You sat and hugged for a while longer. You remembered that the kettle had boiled long ago.

"Shall I make you some tea?" - You ask Jungkook, and you pull out of his arms.

"Yes, please." - You go to the table to make two cups of tea. Jungkook turns off the TV and comes over to sit next to you and drink the tea.

You sit at the table and talk. Mostly about your project. You told him about your work as if you were on an exam. This will help you perform well tomorrow. When it was almost 12 pm, you finally finished, and Jungkook almost fell asleep. You were talking with such enthusiasm, but he was almost bored to death. He woke up in time and encouraged you, telling you that you had prepared well and that tomorrow you would be the best at the exam. You thanked him sincerely and said you were going to take a shower.

You went to your room to put your laptop and papers away, grabbed your night clothes, and went to the bathroom. On the way, you tried to find Jungkook, but he was nowhere to be found. He must have gone to bed because he looked very tired.

You went into the bathroom, thinking that you needed to get cleaned up quickly and go to bed. Tomorrow is a very important day for you. You brushed your teeth, washed off your makeup and washed your face. After taking off all your clothes, you went into the shower stall and turned on the water. It was so warm. It felt so good under this stream of water that enveloped your entire body, making you feel blissful.

You never closed the bathroom door. There was no need to, because Jungkook never came in when you were washing. There were maybe a few times when he didn't know you were there. But that was okay, too, because the shower stall was made of frosted, thick glass. So when he came in, he could hardly see anything. You always closed the door to the stall.

You were enjoying the warm water, completely absorbed in your thoughts, so you didn't hear anyone enter the bathroom. Jungkook came in to take a shower, but he noticed that you hadn't finished yet. He should have gone and waited for his turn, but he did the opposite, deciding to join you.

He completely undressed and opened the shower door, scaring you. You didn't expect to see Jungkook, that why you squeak. He ran his eyes over your naked body and smiled slyly. You noticed that he was naked too and squealed.

"What are you doing here? You see I'm taking a shower here!" - You shouted indignantly. Despite your protests, he went inside and closed the door behind him.

You looked down at him, trying not to look at his crotch. The smile did not leave his face and he approached you.

"You've been here a long time, so I thought it would be faster if we both took a shower." - He stepped closer to you under the stream of water, which instantly soaked his hair and body. You watched him without moving. What was he doing?

"What are you doing in such a hurry? You should have just waited your turn." - You complain, watching as he steps away from the stream of water and runs his hand through his hair.

This movement fascinates you. He's so sexy when he's wet. His body is completely perfect. His broad shoulders and strong arms attract you more than you would like, you want to touch him, but you continues to stand where you is.

You feel yourself getting aroused by the fact that you are both naked in this cramped shower stall. It is obvious what is going to happen between you. He smiles and picks up the shower gel. Not his, yours, and pours it into his palm. He looks at you without shame, and you see desire in his eyes. This boosts your self-esteem.

"I'm tired. I want to sleep, and you're here pamper oneself in the water." - He says, lowering his voice. "Come on, baby. Want that I’ll help’s you take a quick bath and we'll go to bed?" - He stands next to you, turns your back to him. You do not resist. You wonder where this is going to go.

Jungkook comes so close that you can feel his cock touching your ass. It's not hard yet, but it's getting there. You can also feel the moisture between your legs. Jungkook presses his chest against your back and then rubs a little with his hands. He mashes the shower gel and finally touches your breasts with his hands.

He gently runs them up and down, pretending to wash them. You feel even more excited when his big palms squeeze them with a little force. You moan softly and feel the pressure of Jungkook's cock getting stronger. He seems to be aroused by these movements too.

You want to watch him do it. You look down at Jungkook's hands and see. Knotted fingers, playing with your nipple. The tattoo on his right arm moves with his movements. You catch a glimpse of the veins on his wrist as they rise up his arm, intertwining. They were both rough and attractive. You wanted to touch them. You put your hand on top of Jungkook’s and exhale slightly. He squeezes your flesh harder and presses even tighter.

With his other hand, he strokes your stomach, and without waiting any longer than necessary, he lowers himself to the most desirable place.

You lean your head back on his shoulder and close your eyes as he spreads your folds and caresses your clit with his fingers.

You feel pleasure. Once again, those hands work wonders. When he plunges a finger into you, you feel a slight pain. It still hurts, and you don't know when it will heal. But you want those fingers to change into Jungkook's big, hard cock.

Your head is pressed against his shoulder, and this is a good opportunity for your friend to kiss your neck. He notices the light hickeys on the skin and smiles. That's his job.

"How do you like my help?" - Jungkook asks against your cheek. This is not help, this is your death. Because the desire for him to fuck you as soon as possible is burning red in your head. You exhale a moan and laugh. His fingers are deep inside you, pushing against the walls, and you can't wait for more. Should you tell him about it?

"Your help is so wonderful, I should take you with me every time!" - You say. Jungkook laughs and you know he is pleased with your answer. He grabs your head and turns it so that he can kiss you. When his tongue penetrates the inside of your mouth, and his fingers, which have already returned to your clit, caress you there, you can't hold back. It's all pure ecstasy.

He's going to drive you crazy with these caresses. You kiss Jungkook with as much desire as he kisses you. His smooth, not funny movements make you feel like you're about to come. You want to tell him, but you can't. Because your mouth is completely occupied by Jungkook's lips and tongue. You come on his finger with a long moan that turns into a whimper. You squeeze your hips and Jungkook's hand, which is still holding your clit, feeling the bliss spreading through your body.

You feel its length literally bursting into your ass.

"What a good girl. You did it fast." - He says somewhere above your head.

You turn your whole body to him and see his cock needing attention. Jungkook follows your gaze and understands what you're thinking.

He does not expect you to gently grab his length and make a few movements with your hand. He literally hisses with pleasure. You smile at his reaction. So it's good.

You make a few more movements and then Jungkook takes your hand and places it a little higher, closer to the head of his cock. You move a little closer than you were standing and reach for Jungkook's lips because you can't help but kiss them. They're like a magnet.

You want to do it yourself, because for the first time in all your moments together, you're taking the initiative. You press your lips to his, and your tongue immediately runs inside. You want to lead this kiss, but it's easy to give up when you feel the pressure of Jungkook's lips, who has already taken the initiative. He intertwines your tongues the way he wants, he sucks your muscle, and then grabbing your lower lip, he bites you, pulls the skin and lets go.

Jungkook's gaze just kills you. He looks at you so lustfully that you feel like you're shrinking inside. He suddenly stops your hand and you freeze.

He reaches for the water tap and turns it off. The water stops running. The stall is hot, and it's not because of the warm water.

"Don't you want to be released?" - You asked. Jungkook smiled and touched your lips with his thumb.

"Yes, I do. But I want to do it in your pretty little mouth the most." - He plunges the finger that was on your lips right into your mouth. Not abruptly, but carefully and slowly. It's as if he's trying to check how warm and moist it is. You don't take your eyes off him and suck on his finger. Jungkook's eyes grow even darker. You suck a few more times and then let go of his finger with a clunk.

"I can help you." - You say, licking your lips. "I want to swallow your cock." - It's hard for Jungkook because your words make his cock twitch. He pulls you in for another greedy kiss. He almost makes you dizzy.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can just jack me off. You don't have to do this right now." - He says into your lips. You want to please Jungkook the way he did you. That's why you're determined. You're also going to learn how to give blowjobs.

"You want to come in my mouth, that's your wish. Consider me good fairy." - You joke. Jungkook's laugh vibrates on his lips. "And I want to do it." - You say. Jungkook gives you a light kiss and reaches for the foot towel. He grabs it and folds it several times.

"Get on your knees and put it under your feet." - Jungkook orders. "It's to make it more comfortable when you have to stand for a long time."

"I have to stand for a long time?" - You are surprised. You didn't know how long it would take for Jungkook to cum in your mouth. And the fact that he gave you a towel made you a little scared. You stood on the towel and waited for him to approach.

"I don't think it will be that long, but you don't want to have bruises on your knees. There's tiles here." - Jungkook worries. It makes sense now.

"Fair enough." - You reply.

Jungkook finally makes his way over to you and your eyes are right next to his swollen cock. It's so big you're scared. He probably notices your frightened look and asks.

"Are you sure you can do it? We can stop if you want." - He offers. You fix your wet hair on your head.

"No, I want to. I'm just a little nervous. I've never done this before..." - Jungkook grabs your face and pulls you up to look at him.

"It's okay, baby. You don't have to worry, you're a good student. You will do well." - He says gently. You smile gratefully at him. "You may have a gag reflex, so swallow gradually. Also, take as much as you can. You should open your mouth wider so you don't hit me your teeth." - Jungkook gives us the guidelines. He looks like a fucking professor. You smile at the thought.

"What?" - He asks, not understanding why you're laughing. You shake your head.

"I understand you, professor, can I get to practice?" - Are you joking this is making Jungkook laugh.

"Of course, girl!" - He says, mockingly.

Jungkook let you go and you take his length in your hands. You pull back the skin on his cock, freeing the head for you to suck. You see cum dripping from it and first run your tongue around to taste it. It's salty, and it doesn't taste as bad as you expected.

Jungkook reacts immediately, he inhales sharply. You look up at him and stare innocently. Fuck, he will never forget this picture. You're on your knees in front of him, licking his cum from the tip and looking so innocent. Fuck.

You go back to Jungkook's cock and finally open your mouth to take the length. Jungkook puts his hand on the top of your head and holds it. You pump his cock a few times and feel your saliva mixing with his cum. You hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You hear Jungkook moaning above your head. You're pleased that you're giving him such pleasure. He twisted your hair and squeezed it in his hand. He gently began to move your head and hips to feel the best friction.

"Fucking that mouth is so good" - Jungkook moaned, you tried to smile, but it didn't work because your mouth was full of his cock. You felt your jaw start to clench in pain, and saliva mixed with cum flowed down your beard and onto your chest.

Jungkook got carried away and pushed his cock further into your mouth, and you panicked for a minute.

"Breathe deeply through your nose." - He instructed. You looked up at him and it was the sight of him on top of you that calmed you down. He knew what he was doing and wouldn't hurt you. You were aroused by his orders. He was setting the pace and you were grateful because you didn't really know how to do it right. But right now, Jungkook closed his eyes and threw his head back once. He seemed to be enjoying the way you were sucking his cock.

But it was getting a little hard for you. Your eyes started to water and your jaw hurt more. Jungkook looked at you and pulled his cock out of your mouth.

"Are you okay?" - He asked, forcing you to look at him. You were glad to have a chance to catch your breath. You smiled and answered.

"Yes, darling, I can't wait to make you come in my mouth." - You were already grabbing his length. It twitched in your hand. You took his head back into your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. Jungkook looked down at you and couldn't get enough of the way your looked and your mouth felt.

You swallowed him again as far as you could and continued to move back and forth. Jungkook grabbed your hair again and helped you with your pace and that's when you felt him breathing heavily and moaning. That meant he was about to come.

His cock throbbed inside your mouth and then he ordered you to stick out your tongue. You obeyed. When you stuck your tongue out, he pumped his cock a couple of times and finally released it. White fluid fell on your tongue and you tasted that salty flavor again. Some of the semen got on your breasts, and when Jungkook stopped ejaculating, you swallowed the rest. His cock went limp and you could hear his heavy breathing, which was already returning to normal.

You tried to wipe away the rest of Jungkook's cum, and you felt him grab you and pull you to your feet. You saw him smiling happily.

"Are you sure this is the first time you've given a blowjob?" - He asked curiously.

"Yes. Didn't you like it?" - You finally want to know. You wanted Jungkook to evaluate your work.

"It was fucking awesome. I'd never have said it was your first time." - You smile. Your friend appreciated your blowjob.

"I told you I was a good student." - You joke. Jungkook laughs and kisses you. He can still taste his cum on your tongue.

"It's good that we're in. Let's get showered." - Jungkook says and turns on the water. A stream of water envelops your body. This was actually the primary goal from beginning.

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

[lillaydee]

I'm Right Here Part 8

BFF!Joel Miller / F Reader

Sometimes the person we've been looking for has been right there all along.

@copperhalfcent, @demonsasss, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @peelieblue @liciafonseca @ultra-nina-bella @joelmillerpascal @kirsteng42 @heartpatch @capnjaket

Let me know if you want to be tagged or removed from the tag list

WARNINGS: BFF Joel Miller, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Angst, Love Triangles, Miscommunication, Past Child Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Joel is a Clueless Idiot, Jealousy, Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced/Supposed Sexual Assault

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 7

You stood outside your late aunt Esther’s old house, waiting patiently for the lawyer to arrive. Even after all these years, you were still extremely uncomfortable standing there, looking at the house as it loomed over you, feeling like you were a teenager again. You had always felt small when you see the house, even when you were living there. It had been 20 years since you and Eddie left that house, and you still remembered what it felt like every time you stood there waiting for your aunt to open the door for you. Seven years you and Eddie lived there, she never trusted you with your own set of keys, and you had to wait for her good graces to open the door for you every single time you came back. Your eyes landed on the now broken and rusted metal bench you had to sit on, sometimes sleep on every time she locked you out because you were a few minutes late, waiting for Eddie to return from his shift at whatever job he was doing at the time so you could go in when she opened the door for him.

Seven years you did the housework for her. Seven years Eddie kept the yard for her. The day you left was the last time you saw her. She never took interest in your lives since. She didn’t even go to Eddie’s funeral. Didn’t call, didn’t initiate any form of contact with either of you.

Which was why you were so shocked when her lawyer called and told you she had left you the house when she passed. You wondered why she was being so generous. She could have donated the house, she could have willed it to a friend, but no, she left it to the niece she kept reminding everyone she didn’t want responsibility for throughout the seven years she had custody of you and your brother.

But when you saw the state of the house from the pictures the lawyer sent you, you understood why. She died a lonely, bitter, penniless hoarder. The house was shockingly neglected. Once the most handsome house on the street it now looked like a junkyard, the interior filled with garbage she had collected over the years. It was as if she was giving you the middle finger from the grave. Clean this, unwanted niece.

You were still her maid, as far as she was concerned.

So you made an arrangement with your boss. You would work with the Austin office for a few months while you settled the house, be back in Bangkok once you were done. Olivia had rented an Airbnb for you for the stay, but you would be staying in a hotel for the first ten days or so due to the lack of availability.

It was strange, coming back to Austin. The city had changed so much, yet this town somehow felt the same. You felt like a young woman again here. Like someone who didn’t belong again. You just wanted to get it over with and go back to your life in Bangkok.

You didn’t want to leave. You made sure to tell Eric and Benny that the day they sent you to the airport. You didn’t tell anyone you accepted the overseas assignment. You didn’t want anyone changing your mind. You didn’t want anyone trying to get you to stay. So you told Eric and Benny you needed help moving and then directed them to the airport before telling them the truth.

None of them understood why you wanted to leave at first. Benny practically got on his knees begging you to stay. He was worried how Joel was going to take your leaving. You coaxed him, telling him you would be gone a few months at the most, only telling Eric the truth once you had left.

The truth was you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t look at Joel without feeling hurt. Hurt that he would think so low of you, even after knowing you all those years. Hurt that he lashed out at you instead of Jen. Hurt that he chose to leave you alone in the house he begged you to stay at when all you wanted to do was be with him, support him and love him.

He didn’t call you at all after he left. Didn’t contact you in any way. He just disappeared. You received a bouquet of daisies when you got the job, a card saying ‘congratulations’ amongst the flowers, but there was nothing else. You knew it was from him, but the lack of personalization on the card hurt you.

You had initially opted to stay in Austin, thinking that things would settle once the law was involved. That you and Joel would find your way to each other again. That you could begin again. Get to know each other again. You even decided to move in with Olivia for a while, seeing as you wouldn’t really be able to afford to rent an entire house to yourself with your starting salary. It was perfect. Her roommate was getting married, you would move in to the vacated room.

But then Jen emailed you, begging you once more to leave so she and Joel could have a real chance at raising the child together.

You sneered at her delusion, but that email brought a thought to your mind.

What if the child was real? Could you do it? Could you raise an innocent child borne out of such an atrocious act with a man so traumatized he was considering murder and suicide to get out of that life? A man so affected he accused you of wanting to do that same, inconceivable act to him? So shaken he couldn’t look at you without remembering what happened? Without thinking of the night Jen told him the dreadful news?

And what if he couldn’t move on from this? What if this was the man he would remain to be forever? Could you take being his punching bag for the rest of your life? And if you never got back together, could you stand seeing him around town? Could you watch him move on with someone who was not you? Could he watch you move on with someone who was not him? Were the two of you supposed to be single forever? Could the two of you just pass each other by and not acknowledge the great friendship you once had? What you almost became? Were you to never see his friends and family again out of respect for him and his trauma? Could you stay if that were to happen?

No, you couldn’t. And from the events that happened those few weeks, you knew he couldn’t have you stay either. Not unless he agreed to try. But he was refusing help. Refusing to report Jen. Refusing to talk to you about it without raising his voice. Refusing to see someone, a therapist, a doctor, a friend, or anyone at all about it.

Just… no.

So you decided to leave. Was it the best decision you’d ever made? No, not really. But was it the decision you needed to make? Yes, it was. You couldn’t afford to take a chance without much certainty. You could always come back if things worked out. But you couldn’t stay and only leave once or if things got worse. It wasn’t worth the heartache. Not to you.

So you left. As predicted, everyone tried to coax you to come back. You had changed your number, but they had all emailed you, found a way to contact you. Everyone, that is, except him.

That first month, he got worse, apparently. Started drinking, taking pills just to sleep. Then, Jen reappeared in his life, just as the court date was approaching. Hounding him, begging him, threatening him. He spiralled. Tommy found him unconscious, foaming at the mouth one morning, getting him to the ER just in time. Tommy called you then, and when you asked to speak to him, he told Tommy to “Tell that bitch to leave him alone.” You heard Tommy tell him it was you, not Jen, and he doubled down, telling Tommy all women were the same. Can’t trust them worth a shit. You hung up then.

The family stopped asking you to give him a chance a week after that. He told them what he had said to you, and that seemed to hammer in the message home that you would be better off without him in your life. They did, however, beg you to stay in touch with them, and you did, with the condition that none of them ever mention Joel to you ever again.

And so it went. You remained in touch. More so with Eric and Olivia, and by extension Benny and Will. You, Anita and Aunt Tina texted every now and again, Jake and Tommy joining in when they could. Birthday and holiday greetings every year. Eric, Benny, Will, Olivia all came to visit at one point or another, you even flew out for holidays with them, meeting them in countries in between.

Joel was no longer in your life. You didn’t even ask what happened with him and Jen. You wanted to, at first, but you knew you would be crushed either way. If the child was real and he remained the man he was then, you would be crushed. If the child was not real and it was all just a temporary drama that led to all the decisions made, effectively destroying the beginnings of a life you hoped to have with him, you would be crushed. So why bother?

You did know, though, that he was never the same again. The funny, joker of a man Joel Miller was, was gone. Died the day Jen walked into the living room announcing her pregnancy and never returned.

And so life went by. For 15 years, until you returned to Austin to settle the hoarded estate left to you by your absent aunt, the one family member you had left, not that she was ever that present anyway.

You finished your run a little bit later in the evening than you’d like, the jetlag still affecting you. Not to mention you hadn’t run in the evening in forever. The sun was not helping. You just needed the run to get the jitters of sorting the fucking mess your supposed aunt left you out of your person, tire yourself, get an early dinner, get to bed as soon as you could, start early the next day, get on Austin time. There was much to do. The house needed to be cleaned out. You had contacted several cleaning services for quotes. The house also needed repairs. A lot of repairs. At least you thought so. You couldn’t even enter the place without fearing it would endanger your life. So that would need to be dealt with later. And then you would put the house on the market and go back to your life in Bangkok.

The park was full of teenagers. Was there a school around here? You didn’t recall there to be one back when you lived here, but hey, it’s been 15 years. You crossed the street to start walking back to the hotel, taking your other air pod out of the case for the walk as you did.

Before you could do that, something orange trotted along out of the drains, mewling as it made its’ way onto the street. A kitten. Alone, wobbly, looking so confused your heart melted. A teenage girl rushed past you, squealing at the kitten, stopping in the middle of the street, scooping the little orange furball into her hands.

A truck came barrelling out of nowhere, loud music blaring out of its’ speakers, the driver looking as if he was staring at something in his hands rather than the road. The teenager froze, the tiny kitten in her hand.

You rushed over to her and wrapped your arms around her, pushing her out of the way, the momentum and whizz from the truck whooshing past practically pulling you along the road for a good few yards. You could feel your clothing scrape and burn onto your skin as you came to a stop, a searing pain enveloping you. You continued holding her until you no longer feel the truck being near, lifting your head slightly, asking her if she was okay. You got up, checking her for injuries, just as a small crowd of people came running towards the two of you. She got up, the kitten still in her hand, squirming uncontrollably, trying to get away from the havoc that was the situation. She passed the kitten on to another teenager, telling you her wrist hurt. You were about to bend over to check her wrist when you realized you couldn’t move your left hand.

The teenagers around you started murmuring, pointing at your shoulder. A man came running up to you, asking you if you were okay. You looked at your own shoulder, realizing that you had dislocated it, yet again.

“I think I dislocated my shoulder. Again,” you muttered, surrender in your voice. The man raised his eyebrow at you, before asking if you feel pain anywhere else, could you move? Stand? Walk? You told him you were fine, except for the shoulder, maybe a few scrapes and cuts. He checked on the teenager, who told him about her wrist, and he told the surrounding teenagers to get on the bus, helping you to sit on the sidewalk.

“Stay with her,” he told the teenager, “I’m gonna get my truck, take you two to the ER,” waiting for the teenager’s response before running off.

You laid there on the small bed in the much too familiar ER, breathing in slow, deep breaths, trying to get your mind to think of anything but the searing, throbbing pain in your shoulder. This was bad. You knew this was bad before they brought you to the hospital. You knew this was bad before they took you up for an x-ray an hour ago. This was not the simple dislocation you’d suffered through sporadically throughout the years since you were six. This was something more serious. Your body shivered and trembled from the pain, elevating it, making it impossible to ignore. Your heart was beating uncomfortably fast, your head was spinning. Your whole body felt cold and hot at the same time, the pain unbearable.

The wait for the results seemed to take forever. You later found out it was an hour. But to you, it might as well had been an entire day. The man who took you and the teenage girl to the ER reappeared from behind the curtains after a quick ‘knock-knock’. He had stayed with the teenager when you got taken for treatment.  

“How is she? Is she okay?” you asked him, anxious to know, but at the same time trying to do anything other than think of the pain you were in.

“She sprained her wrist. She’s okay otherwise. How are you feeling?” he looked worried, his body language anxious, as if he was trying to find a way to comfort you but feared touching you in any way would break you.

“Do you know her?” you distracted him, not wanting to talk about your pain.

“She’s one of my students. We were on a school trip. Her parents are on their way. My colleague is staying with her now.”

Worry and guilt must have been clear on your features, and he must have noticed. “Hey,” he said, quickly sitting down on your good side, “You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved her life.”

“She’s still injured,” you murmured.

“She would have suffered a lot more than a sprained wrist if you hadn’t stepped in,” he coaxed, wiping the tear that fell off your eye without you realizing it. “You saved my life too, if I’m being honest. I don’t even want to imagine what her father would do to me if something worse happened to her.”

That little joke produced a small smile out of you.

“There you are,” he said, smiling himself, wiping the rest of your tears with his fingers. “Much better.”

That earned him another smile from you. Your body involuntarily trembled from the sudden searing pain you felt when you tried to turn towards him.

“No, stay still,” he said, getting up to wrap the blanket around you tighter. “Are you from here?”

You nodded. “I moved away for work. Just back to settle some family thing. A few months. I haven’t been back in 15 years.”

He whistled, “Long time,” he said.

“What about you?”

“Moved here for work. A few months now. I’m just here temporarily. Just until the art teacher comes back. She’s on leave for a year.”

“You move around a lot like that? Teaching the masses where you’re needed?”

He smiled, nodding, “You can say that.”

You smiled back at him. There was something about this man. He made you feel calm. He even looked sort of familiar, but you couldn’t really place where you had seen him before. Then again, he was new in town, and so were you, relatively speaking. You put that thought at the back of your head and just enjoyed his company.

The curtain opened and the young doctor who took you in for an x-ray came in with an older doctor.

“I’ll just be outside okay? Give you some privacy,” the teacher said, starting to stand up.

“No, please stay. I don’t want to be alone,” you begged before you could stop yourself. You were scared. Alone. And you knew, you just knew something was wrong, even more so than usual. You wanted to have someone there with you, and this teacher man was the most familiar of the three faces in front of you. “I hope that’s okay,” you added, hoping he wouldn’t find you creepy.

“Of course,” he said, sitting back down.

“Well, Miss Stevens, the bad news is I’m afraid your x-ray showed something a bit more serious. Your clavicle is broken, so you’re gonna need surgery. But the good news is we could fix that shoulder of yours for good now, since we’re already going in,” the older doctor told you.

The teacher man placed his hand on your good hand, squeezing it a little. You simply nodded, surrendering to the situation. Fuck, this was gonna be a problem. How were you supposed to settle what you needed to settle in time? Shit. The doctors asked if you had any questions before they begin processing your check in, only leaving once they answered them.

“You okay?” the teacher man asked, seeing the troubled look on your face.  

“Yeah… I just… I have some things to settle. And I need my stuff. I need to call my friend,” you told him, looking around for your phone. He took it from the plastic bag next to your bed and gave it to you, waiting as you dialled Olivia’s number.

“I’m Mike, by the way,” he told you once you hung up, “Michael Parks.”

“Daisy. Stevens. I’d shake your hand but even speaking hurts right now,” you told him, cringing a little from a sudden pang of pain you felt as you adjusted yourself to place the phone next to your pillow.

“You just relax. It’s all good. You have someone to take care of you?”

You nodded.

“Mr. Parks?” a young girl’s voice came from outside the curtain.

“Yeah.”

The teenage girl you rescued appeared from behind the curtain, her left wrist bandaged. She tentatively approached you, looking so apologetic your heart clenched.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, looking as if she was about to cry.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your wrist?” you asked her.

She lifted her bandaged arm and told you she’ll live.

“I’m so sorry you got injured to save me,” she pleaded.

“Hey, you saved a kitty, I saved you. It’s all good,” you assured her. “Where is that kitty by the way?”

“My friend took it home for now. I’m gonna ask my Dad if I can keep it. It’s so cute,” she said, laughing a little.

“It really is,” you agreed.

“They said I can go,” she told you and Mike. “But I just wanted to thank you for saving me. Is it okay if my parents come in here and thank you too?”

“They don’t need to,” you said, but she insisted.

“Please? They were so worried. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t pushed me away. And they know you’re injured because of me,” she really was about to cry this time, seeming desperate for you to let her parents thank you.

You took pity on her and nodded. She seemed relieved, peeking her head out of the curtain to call them.

A woman about your age came in, looking worried. Her worry seemed exacerbated when she saw your shoulder in a sling, the cuts on your face, the scrapes on your arms and legs.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

“She has to have surgery on her shoulder,” Mike told her mother. The woman clamped her hand on her mouth.

“I’m so sorry you got so hurt. Thank you so much for saving my daughter. They told me it would have been so bad if you didn’t. Thank you so much!” she said.

“You’re more than welcome,” you told her, “Your daughter is a lovely young woman. It’s my pleasure.”

“Oh, but you’re hurt so badly,” she said, peeking outside the curtain, waving someone over. “Did you introduce yourself properly?” she asked her daughter.

“Well, she was in so much pain,” the teenager said, “We didn’t think of it.”

“That’s true,” Mike assured her. “We were all a bit preoccupied. I myself had just introduced myself to her.”

“Where are our manners, I’m Annie, this is my daughter Sarah,” she said. The teenager gave you a little wave.

A man walked in through the curtain. Your insides turned cold. He stopped as soon as he saw you, his worried face turned into one of shock and disbelief.

“And this is my husband Joel.”

Part 9

[liketwoswansinbalance]

What would Rhian do if Rafal started having a panic attack and just could not calm down?

The scenario seems unlikely, given Rafal's relatively unflappable, impassive temperament and how he doesn't seem to exhibit PTSD symptoms, but this scenario is also very interesting, and I would really like to know what could possibly trigger a panic attack of that intensity in him. It'd probably have to be something unimaginably horrible? (Literally, I don't have a good answer at the moment for possible hair-raising stimuli to him, as much as we joke about Rafal vs. pirates.)

If he did have a panic attack, I feel like it would be most in character of him to dissociate/undergo depersonalization and feel like a third party observer to his life or a singular event, whether it's unfolding or oncoming. And he would only stand still with bated breath in abject dread at some kind of figurative tidal wave he's about to be bombarded with.

It would probably be a silent panic attack, not an outburst or a weepy/breathy one—and he might have the blue-screen-of-death type of feeling/expression, during which nothing new on the outside is being registered and processed because he's gone numb and detached. Like, his eyes would be open, and he'd look, but he wouldn't see or comprehend. He may as well have been gazing at the backs of his lids, or at a blur, or feel dark/reddish pulsing.

Ok, brace yourselves—

This is the worst-case scenario in relation to this fascinating ask:

Rafal falls into a fugue state and wanders away from home (and Rhian doesn't stop him or think to stop him because Rafal's left without any prior notice before. He has a history of it. And, he literally just disappears and reappears at will, seemingly well mentally, like it's a magic trick. So, whatever Rafal does, wherever he goes, if action is needed at all, it must be some practice of self-regulation, given his unwillingness to rely on anyone else. And most unsettling of all: again, no one would be able to distinguish the panic attack from every other time Rafal's casually left.)

And while I'm sure this isn't canon, we could make the leap that he could have been hurt enough by Rhian's jab at his pride at the start of Rise that there is, I suppose, a non-zero chance of this having happened when he first struck out on his own (during the time gap, pre-meeting Hook).

Actually, a lot of Rafal's behaviors align with schizoid personality disorder, antisocial personality disorder, autism, paranoid personality disorder, anhedonia, and obsessive compulsive personality disorder—I don't necessarily think he's affected by any one of these conditions alone. Any kind of comorbidity is possible. And yet, oddly enough, I can't see PTSD as likely because: either his trauma is invisible or he's more likely to be the one inflicting trauma on others than ever experiencing it or irrational fears himself.

Anyway, as for my answer—first, Rhian would probably try to ground Rafal in the world and keep Rafal responsive.

In the case of Rhian not knowing how to deal with panic attacks, perhaps, he could try to shake/slap some sense into Rafal.

If both of these tactics were to fail, the "kindest" solution would probably be to sedate or safely render Rafal unconscious with magic before his feelings escalated any further or he lost consciousness due to hyperventilation. So, if Rhian could keep a clear head while all this were going on, I suspect that's what he would do.

And let's face it: This is entirely conditional—it would only be so if Rhian were even there, as, the possibility of Rafal just up and leaving, (and not accepting any help, if anyone even notices anything off about him) is still firmly on the table.

However, Rhian's anxious tendencies could interfere with taking an appropriate or any course of action for that matter. He could freeze up at the sight of Rafal in this state as it could very well be a novel occurrence. And, if he didn't know what to do, his mind could go blank out of stress, fear, and/or shock. At best though, he could get Rafal medical assistance/psychological attention, whichever services exist in the Woods.

In fact, I think Rhian would try to "fix" the feeling/reaction itself, only what's being presented to him, that's observable, not the situation or root cause of Rafal's panic attack. And, ordinary words/gestures of reassurance would not be enough, if he can't be calmed.

There's even a chance Rhian could be afraid of touching or attempting to hug Rafal in a state like that, due to a fear of disturbing Rafal(?), even if he could hold the instinct to do so.

I'm not sure it would ever cross Rhian's mind to deal with Rafal's panic from the outside, as in, directly removing the distressing stimuli or dealing head-on with some source of trauma or approximation of trauma, if the stimulus is adjacent to but not the exact thing which would set off Rafal's response, or "under-response," knowing him.

There's also an off-chance that certain behaviors of Rhian's are triggers to Rafal, but that neither of them know it. The opposite is also probably true, considering Rhian was set off, in a way, at the end of Fall by the weighty/selfish but relatively innocuous offer Rafal extended to him.

Thus, I think there's a definite, non-zero chance they've each traumatized the other and cannot recognize it because they're so entrenched in their relationship and cannot view it objectively.

Lastly, keep in mind that I am not an expert or an actual psychologist. I have only tried to not misinform. I invite you to correct me if anything is wrong.

Thoughts or reactions, anyone?! I'm not sure whether my answer is predictable or provocative.

[ammy246]

Demon Ciel Phantomhive

Back when the filler season 2 aired, it had an ending where Ciel became a demon. This was seen as controversial, because not all fans were happy about this, while some thought it was a good idea with potential. I was always intrigued by the concept, and I think it could work just if it happened differently then it did that season. The main problem I had was that it essentially forced Sebastian to be with Ciel as his butler for all eternity.

For it to work in canon, I would want Sebastian to choose this. Have him turn Ciel into a demon in order to save his life. This would be great character development for Sebastian who once only saw Ciel as food to turn Ciel immortal. If that did happen, what would become of the contract? Ciel would have already accomplished his vengeance, therefore the contract would technically be voided. I like to think that Sebastian would choose to continue being Ciel's butler. He has grown to love his young master after all their time together, and does not want to part ways with him to the point of willingly turning him immortal. Sebastian will gladly sacrifice his freedom as a demon for the one he loves.

Ciel on the other-hand, has a dilemma. He had finally caught his parents murder(s) and got the vengeance he sought for so long. He had planned to die for that cause and rejoin his family in the afterlife, but now, that opportunity is seemingly gone. What is he supposed to do now that all he worked for has already been accomplished? And, what is he supposed to do with infinite time? Does that mean he will remain his current age and be Earl Phantomhive forever?

Then of course, there is Sebastian. The demon who had changed the fate he had long since accepted when he first made the deal. The demon had every opportunity to take his soul, but chose not to in favor of keeping him alive. At this point, Sebastian's love for him is undeniable. The real question is what Ciel is going to do about it. If they are going to spend eternity together, he can't exactly ignore it, and he doesn't want to spend all that time alone watching loved ones die either. So, he decides that whatever happens going forward, he wants Sebastian there by his side. Sebastian can teach him how to be a demon, and how to live now that he finally got the closure he had searched so long for. And maybe, just maybe, he can find happiness along the way.

I headcanon that Ciel & Sebastian would eventually fake their deaths. Ciel would change his name so he would no longer be a Phantomhive, and escape his duty as the Queen's Watchdog so he could try to live a normal life (as normal as you can while being an immortal demon). He would spend his time traveling with Sebastian throughout Europe and eventually the rest of the world as time went on, but try his best to avoid becoming a high ranking demon or anything, because he no longer wants that kind of spotlight on himself- he had more than enough throughout his life. Sebastian, meanwhile, is just happy to be by his love's side (he calls him 'my love' instead of 'my lord' now since Ciel is no longer a lord).

[argisthebulwark]

I'm Glad I Get Forever

summary: Asking your partner if they'll fall for someone else after you've died. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Teldryn, Balimund, Mercer, Farkas, Vilkas, Miraak, Arnbjorn, Brynjolf, Cicero warnings: non graphic mentions of death/grief obv masterlist

Yes

Teldryn ponders the question, feet propped comfortably on your lap. He enjoys evenings like this; sharing a bottle of wine miles from the nearest town, nothing but the stars to keep you company. For weeks you'd swapped stories until there was nothing left to tell - you knew each other too well. Asking each other questions became an easy way to stave off boredom. "I suppose." He sighs, watching your brows raise. "We both know you'd give me some deathbed speech about how you want me to keep living, cursing me to seek a new patron willing to drag me across Tamriel. Can't have my talents going to waste." He's right, of course. Teldryn's always right.

Balimund knows he will never seek out romance - he hadn't even sought you out, merely a series of happy accidents that led you into his heart. A blacksmith made a fair partner for a warrior, romance blossoming over years spent haggling over his forge. "If it happened organically, don't think I'd sabotage it." He muses, stretching out the sore muscles in his shoulder. The thought of you passing makes him feel a bit ill but he brushes past it, trusting in armor crafted by his own hands to keep you safe. "You'll always be my heart, but I've got a feelin' you wouldn't want me to end up alone."

Mercer says yes, the lie slipping easily between gritted teeth. He's already let you get too close and he can't pass up the perfect opportunity to force a bit of distance. He refuses to let you know the horrible truth he harbors deep in his chest - he cares for you. Rolling his eyes he pointedly ignores the cute divot between your brows. "Of course." He lies, panic clawing at his throat at the mere thought of losing you. "Maybe I'll find someone who bothers me less."

Farkas has to sit with your question, rolling it around in his mind. His gut reaction is to refuse - no one else could capture his heart as you have, right? Though, he hadn't expected to fall for you either. It could happen again. "Maybe a few decades later, after I've mourned and all that." He offers, though he simply cannot see a future for himself without you; your home built together, your family growing with age, your hands healing every little wound. It is only you. "Seems unlikely for you to go first, though."

No

Vilkas declines without a second thought. He doesn't even look up from his book, apparently unfazed by your question. There's a cute flush creeping up his cheeks, though you bite back the urge to comment on it. "I know you'd haunt me." He mutters, kissing your knuckles. "I'll keep an eye out for your ghost, though. Don't think that would count as seeing someone else."

Miraak is disgusted by the thought. He cannot fathom living life alone once more, the idea of another partner taking your place making him feel sick. You'd carved out space in his old heart, no other could fill the void left by your absence. "Each of my days would be too heavy without you, my love." Intense as always, he clutches your face. "You are the sole resident of my heart. I fear that I would not last long in this life without you - I would soon follow you into whatever afterlife will accept my tainted soul."

Arnbjorn rolls his eyes at your question. It's quite fun getting under his skin, though you keep that thought to yourself. Even if you know he will never harm you, he is sharpening a freshly formed dagger. "I didn't even want to fall for you, I'm not doing this again." He grunts, pointedly ignoring your excited gasp. "You're it for me." "I had no idea you could be sweet." "Shut it." He snarks, the blunt edge of his blade swinging toward where you're perched on his workbench. "Or your death will become more than a hypothetical."

Brynjolf's heart cannot withstand another, losing you would be too much. Your words remind him of those awful days he thought Mercer had stolen you from him - the pit he'd fallen into, the despair sitting so heavily on his chest. He cannot imagine living with the gnawing, ceaseless pain your loss would create once more. "Never." He doesn't find the humor in your question, holding you a bit tighter to his chest when you fall into bed. There is no one else for him. Brynjolf's known this for ages, you are the love of his life.

Cicero giggles at your question - how silly! His funny Listener, no one else can ever measure up to you. Only you understand him. Mother's chosen, his most beloved Listener, you are love to him. "Funny Listener, don't make Cicero laugh." He sighs, pinching at your cheeks. "Your jokes have gotten better - it seems you're taking after your favorite jester!" "I was serious." "Never, ever, ever, ever!" He sings, planting a kiss on your nose. "Only my silly Listener, forever and ever."

[mvltisstuff]

Could i request for a Conrad fisher X reader where reader has a younger sibling who gives her a hard time and her parents favour her younger sibling more. It's the reader's bday on the same day as belly's and her family doesn't get her anything and they don't bother with an excuse either and say they don't really care abt her so it doesn't matter. So Conrad comforts her later and if u don't mind u could include some smut at the end?

(this is my situation rn lololol but without Conrad to comfort me😭)

matilda - c.f

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: i’m so sorry love, sorry this is a few days late but you are so loved and appreciated no matter what, hope this makes you happy today <3

it’s been a recurring theme for most of y/n’s life. the overheard quotes about the older sibling had eventually become a reality. they didn’t even wait for y/n to try and live up to them. instead, they just accepted that their daughter wasn’t as good as the rest of their children.

as upsetting as it is, kids experience it too much. y/n experiences it every day, so when she realized it wasn’t normal, that’s when it started to hurt more every year.

this day was supposed to be different. she was so excited, turning 18 and finally being an adult. free of her parents if she wanted to be. she thought that maybe, just maybe, her parents would think of her for a day, and make it about it. alas, the second she woke up and walked into the kitchen, y/n’s hopes were shut down.

“y/n, can you take y/b/n to practice? i’m going out with sharon today,” her mom said, barely even looking at her.

“uh, i’m leaving in a bit, remember?” she speaks, trying to sound as polite as possible. “the fishers invited me over for today.”

“hon, we get it,” her dad talks next, peering up over his glasses and newspaper of the town. “but, to some point, it’s just another day. just do what your mother asked.”

y/n looks at her little siblings at the table, messing around and receiving no repercussions. she still remembers when that was her. playing with her parents, happier than she ever was again. she loves her siblings to death, but she loves herself, too. y/n deserves more than she’s been given, so she confides. she drives her brother to whatever practice, wishing him luck as he whispers a happy birthday, then jumping out of the car to see his friends.

she’s already dressed up for the party for belly. the fishers had welcomed her with open arms, even having decorations and sweets for her on the table. everyone figured she’d have something going on at home, but oh, they were so wrong. she didn’t receive a single birthday message from the people who gave her life, so did it matter? even if she didn’t believe it, at least the fishers knew she was worth it. she was dressed in one of her best outfits, a simple dress with small flowers printed over. she had small wedges and her hair was done neatly. she felt pretty, she is pretty.

she walked into the house, belly hearing the door open first. she skips toward, engulfing y/n in a huge hug. “y/n!” she squeals. “happy birthday!”

“oh, belly! happy birthday to you, you look so cute!”

“are you kidding? your man’s gonna go wild when he sees you!” she whispers, making y/n blush toward the end.

“belly, stop!” she nudges. “he’s not my man… yet.”

they giggle together before moving back into the kitchen where y/n greets susannah and laurel, along with the rest of the boys. conrad stands up first, in a heartbeat. he walks over, almost lifting y/n off the ground in a hug.

“hey! happy birthday!” he tells her, excitedly as he pulls away. jeremiah comes piling in next, saying his words to the person he considers a sister.

“didn’t y/m/n have anything planned?” susannah asked from the pure kindness in her heart.

“oh,” y/n mutters. “we, uh, we did something yesterday.”

conrad can tell when y/n lies. he can read her like a book at this point. he’s spent so long fanboying over her that he knows what she’s feeling. when she’s sad, excited, pissed, he knows. it pulls at his heart when he can sense the disappointment in her voice. he starts to get more alarmed with every drink she takes throughout the day. she’s not even a big drinker, never really taking an offer. now he’s positive somethings wrong.

if y/n’s parents didn’t care about her, they don’t care if she drinks, right? she’s with her friends, she’s allowed to. plus. it’ll take the edge off of the internal wounds her parents have left her with. her feelings on the whole matter start to disintegrate for a while, until belly’s cake comes out and is handed to her. it’s so nicely done, perfect detail and so much love. they put time into her cake and party, and y/n can’t help the jealousy rising up. she vividly remembers every one of her younger siblings birthdays. all of them having their friends and a party, while y/n was just locked in her room on her birthday. the presents and the cheesy grins from everyone were overwhelming every year. she couldn’t help but think about what it could be like with her real family. maybe they could love her as much as she deserves, but in reality, they won’t. they can, but they chose not to, which hurts even more.

y/n stumbles around on the balcony, around people while carefully savoring every last drop of whatever is in her can. she’s probably had too many, but she doesn’t care. it’s almost like it’s reversed itself now. she watches belly open all of her presents and receive hugs and kisses, and the lump in her throat becomes thicker. she thinks of the alcohol as her enemy now, just bringing back the thoughts in her sober mind.

it’s not until everyone hears the clicking of y/n’s heels on the pavement that they notice her walking away. her hand is swiping away the loose tears and everyone looks at conrad. if there’s anyone y/n wants to see, it’s him. they’ve been in love for so long, it’s almost painful to watch. as she walks away, blurry vision from the alcohol and the tears, she tries to grab another can from the box before a hand stops her.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” conrad says, gently taking it out of her hand and landing it back in the box.

“oh, great. more fuckin’ judgment,” she retorts, making conrad’s face contort.

“hey, what’s going on? you’ve been off all day.”

“i am, perfectly fine,” y/n slurs. conrad places a hand on her shoulder, and takes them to sit on the steps. his arm is wrapped around her, the other one gripping her hand.

“i know you’re not. it’s ok to not be ok,” he looks at her nose scrunch and her cheeks turn red again. “hey, hey, don’t cry, you’re alright.”

“no,” she weeps out, putting her head in her hands. “i’m a mess! i don’t know what to do, i cant make it any better and i’ve been trying for 14 fucking years!”

“hold on,” he keeps his voice low. “what do you mean?”

“my parents don’t give a shit. they haven’t since y/b/n was born and they didn’t even bother about me anymore,” conrad pulls her into his arms, leaning back as her teardrops soak into his shirt. “i didn’t do anything for this, and belly’s being loved unconditionally without having to fight for it. and i feel like a bitch getting upset over it but-“

“absolutely not. don’t say that ever again. you don’t deserve anything they’re giving you. anything they’ve said to you is a fucking lie. i know who you are. you’re the most perfect, beautiful person i’ve ever met, inside and out. you don’t have to prove anything to them, because they don’t deserve your amazingness,” he speaks to her. it’s nothing but the truth, and nothing he would ever hesitate to say. “and i will spend forever trying to prove to you that you’re nothing but beautiful a beautiful person.”

y/n looks up at him, only bursting into more tears as he laughs a bit. “oh, my god, conrad. i love you, so much. i know i’m drunk but i mean it more than anything.” she’s felt nothing like she does now. she’s never had someone accept her so quickly and with so much appreciation. she feels like she can do nothing but cry and just love on him.

“i’m glad,” he begins again. “because i love you, too. no matter what your parents say or do. they don’t define you.”

and in this moment, for the first time in a long time, y/n knows someone loves her. and he’s not just saying it for comfort. she doesn’t need her parents to be loved. if they can’t do that, there will forever be someone out there who loves her just as much. she knows she’s enough, and that’s enough.

[avifaunaa]

how the world spins without you [ n.r. ] [ pt. 5 ]

Authors Note: forgive me for how late this is. It wasn’t intentional and I had meant to get it out sooner. But I’m running on caffeine, bitterness of my breakup, and whatever’s left of the chemicals my ADHD meds gave me before i ran out so . . . 🧍🏻‍♀️

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART SIX

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has found you and it is time to bring you home. The Black Lotus as a threat has been eliminated but her employer has not — which leaves more of a mess to clean up later. But that could wait . . . Natasha did not think she could bare to part from you for a moment.

Content Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, emotional turmoil, aftermath of torture, medical treatment [ r!recieving ], Rio makes an appearance then dips, early symptoms of PTSD [ r ], cuddling, injuries, anxiety attacks, outward expressions of reassurance, love, and safety [ Nat —> R ], Natasha has some sort of mental disassociation about coffee when it’s actually about almost losing R.

Word Count: ~3.8k

5 . . . 4

“She’s crashing!”

“Blood type is —“

“We need to restart her heart!”

1 . . . 2

Electricity jolting through you and echoing into your ribcage, reaching the organ that pumps life giving blood into your veins.

“I will debrief when my partner isn’t lying on the table bleeding out!”

3 . . .

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three.

Something warm envelops you and you knew nothing but the radiating heat within whatever surrounded you. You did not feel as though you were within your own body anymore, but a spectator to what was being done to save your life.

It changes someone when, you decide, when they have to see their own body lay prone upon the surgery table split open and stitched back together, blood soaking into surgical gloves as wires and tubes kept you somewhat alive.

It was ironic in a way — watching yourself get a blood transfer as you bled almost as quickly as they gave back.

No wonder you were near death. Death?

A feminine form joins you at your side with a ghostly silence, arms folded in front of themselves. They wore a ragged dark green hood that went with silky emerald robes, brushing the floor of the surgical room but didn’t seem to collect dirt or mess.

Waves of cold floated from her and yet — yet you had this primal urge to stay very still.

Like prey attempting to keep itself hidden form a narrow-sighted predator in the brush.

“You’re lucky,” the being finally said, voice echoing in the room. No attention was brought to either of you by your team of nurses and surgeons who worked around you. One of your monitors wailed.

“I think I see myself about to die,” you retort, but it’s sort of an accepted stance on the matter. What can you do? You’re in no state to stop them.

“No,” mused the feminine voice, laughter cold and brutal in the bitterness echoing its edges. “No, you’re about to live. Yet another that I am unable to reclaim.” A pause. “Perhaps it is just not your time.”

“Who can know?” you asked, unflinching as one of the nurses throws another blood soaked rag into the growing pile. “I suppose only gods and celestials.”

“Oh, sweet thing. Not even they know until it is their time.” A chill crept up the back of your neck, the hairs standing up. You turned, expecting to find the being there, but they were now by your head at the surgery table. “But I do.”

“What are you?” you asked as they slowly crossed the threshold of the surgery room in a way that was inhuman.

“Guess. I’ll give you three.” They were more amused by the entire situation than they were annoyed, apparently. She started humming a soft tune as she circled the doctors and nurses surrounding your body.

You watched them further and tried to think, but the tune of their humming was like a throbbing to your soul.

‘nothing satisfies but your soul.’

‘well I am Death, and none can excel.’

You began to open your mouth, but even doing so had resulted in nothing of value.

They did look up at you, though, like they heard whatever you had wanted to say and allowed a smile to curl at their lips, finger going to their lips.

They lifted a dagger and pressed the tip delicately against your forehead as one of the nurses brushed a hand over the spot at the same time.

When you finally managed to catch a glimpse of their face, all you saw was a skull.

You feel so heavy, brain foggy and mouth full of cotton. But you were waking, you think. Or perhaps dying was like waking from the worst nap ever imaginable.

There was an annoying beeping somewhere on your left side that was nagging at your brain. You wanted it to stop — did Natasha forget to turn the alarm off when she woke up early? You’d kill her for it.

But trying to reach your arm up was met with no success. You could hardly find energy to wiggle your fingers even though you threw effort into it.

Then warmth danced across the back of your hand and the sound of screeching on floor. A chair, maybe. Yes.

“Oh, my love.” Natasha, your lovely Natasha. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Open your eyes? That was a simple ask for one such as you, the great apprentice of Tony Stark. Yet as you made the attempt, you were sure your eyelids were glued shut and were met with a sting when you blinked them open slowly.

It hurt — oh everything hurt. The light was much to bright and blinded you instantly, the edges of your retinas felt like they burned, and the watering that begun was like boiling water.

“You’re doing great, just keep trying,” Natasha coaxed gently, stroking your hair with a heavier hand than you’d like.

“Lights,” you moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut again and turning your face toward the darker section of the room.

“Okay, yeah. They’re not on a bright setting but if you need them off, yeah.” You heard her scrambling and moving around the room, and the pressure on your head lightened after a few seconds.

“Try now?” she murmured from farther away.

You slowly turned your head back and hesitated. You were in so much pain already — why did she insist on adding to it?

Still you made the attempt, blinking slowly open until you saw only the lights coming from outside of the window and cracked door outside of your room. It was considerably less harsh and you didn’t feel like vomiting as much.

“Gnarly.”

Natasha let out a large breath she had apparently been holding. “Gnarly,” she repeated as she retraced her steps back to you.

“I think I died.”

“If you did, sweetheart, I’m glad you didn’t stay dead,” your girlfriend said with conviction. Your hand was scooped into both of hers as she sat back into the chair at your side and pressed her lips against your palm. “So glad.”

“There was a skeleton woman there.”

Natasha releases a shocked, watery laugh. She squeezed your hand so tight you were sure she was doing it for herself rather than for you. “Oh yeah? Was she hot at least?”

You tried to shuffle through your memory of being around your own body, of the cold woman who had you wanting to run away. But that was a fading moment of time and it was fading fast. You hardly even seemed to remember that it was a memory at all.

“I don’t know. Probably not as hot as you,” you decided to respond, eyes hazily flicking to her face. Natasha was crying, lips still pressed to your skin, hair in the messiest updo you’ve ever seen the perfectionist don.

When she didn’t give you anything else in words, you used your free hand to try and get some movement back. Wiggled your fingers and dug them into the hospital grade blanket covering your body, feeling again.

Wetness collected on the back of your hand and you blinked. “You’re leaking on me.”

She sniffled loudly and moved her head up, turning to wipe her nose on her upper arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“It was a joke, but at least you leaked on both of us now.”

Natasha didn’t laugh, so you stopped trying to create more humor. A high pitched, one beep signal from the machinery alerted you both to glance over.

“It’s just the automatic dispensary of your painkillers. It’s fine.” She set your hand down and started wiping at her face. You wished she wouldn’t — Natasha was the only thing keeping you believe you were truly alive right now and not in some purgatory hell.

“You almost died.”

You blinked sleepily at her. Her jaw was clenched tight and her knuckles were so white with how she clenched her fists together, chin resting on them.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp. Because what else can you say? You wouldn’t do it again? You’ll do better?

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Natasha whispers, “I want — I need you to get out of this. You were almost gone, you couldn’t even . . .”

It’s a fickle thing, the brain. It’ll do what it has to do to protect itself and the host — the body — and in doing so may create a lapse of memory, a struggle to recall certain things of importance.

And then those things may crop up later in life and cause a whole shit ton of trouble.

You don’t remember much of what happened — you remembered the woman, the dark room, feeling cold and tired. You don’t remember Nat finding you, or anything beyond some hushed voices of the woman as she spoke to you during your captivity.

In the end wouldn’t that be the better result? Your trauma would be limited even if the damage done to your body told an entirely different, more profound story that you couldn’t remember and maybe wanted to make the decision not to.

Whatever had happened to you — you knew it was severe. You knew it paid a hefty price from your entire being. But the look on Natasha’s face and the blacked out corners of your memory that are just as unreachable as your body is broken, it tells a story of its own and you never want to read it again.

“I’m going to get through this,” you vowed in the quietest voice. Your throat still hurt, and your tongue was dry. “We both are. You and I. Me and you.”

“I haven’t tried a new flavor in weeks,” the redhead confessed, leaning closer until she lay half down in your lap. Exposed and vulnerable, yet she allowed it here and now. “Losing you destroyed what it meant to try and be kind to myself, to step outside of a box that contains my comforts and my knows. I couldn’t risk getting hurt if I didn’t try at all.”

You lifted a weak hand, covered in IV’s and monitors, then dropped it non-gracefully into her hair and stroked.

“Are we . . . Talking about coffee? Right now?”

Natasha leaned into your hand, the weight of it, as though begging for it to never leave.

You obliged and kept the pressure, adding to it as you carded your sore fingers through the tresses of hair that were loose enough in the bun she had. You were tempted to undo it entirely, but your fingers may not work well enough and you were growing sleepier by the second with the release of medication.

“I didn’t sleep well without you, and I cancelled the reservation to that Thai place you’d been begging me to try. I couldn’t do it without you,” she blurted out. You paused, fingers dug into her scalp.

“Did you get your money back from the short notice seating?”

“No,” Natasha said dully, and you sighed. “I forgot about it until the night of and they texted the reminder of the time.”

“I always tell you to put reminders on top of reminders in your calendar.”

Natasha whines in response.

“Natasha,” you slurred out, determined to stay awake long enough despite the drugs clawing at your nervous system, “this isn’t about any of that, is it?”

“No, Mayshka,” she whispered so softly you nearly asked her to repeat herself, “I find that I can’t — I can’t do anything new or scary without you by my side. I am one of the most powerful spies in the world and I have defeated likes bigger than most will ever have to face.” A pause, and you wanted so terribly to reach your entire body down and curl over her, “But before you I did not feel human nor did I think I had the need to. I knew what I knew and had what I had. You unravel the worst of me and find that scared part of Natasha that I’ve tried so long to bury away and make her apart of me again. And without you I’m not entirely sure how I can manage it. Because you make me brave. You make me feel again.”

“No,” you murmured, putting enough pressure down so she was forced to lift her head and meet her gaze. “Nat, you met me because you were doing those things. Getting out of your comfort zone, and trying to unravel what you think is the worst of you. Don’t you get it? You were already doing it.”

“With one thing — at one place.” Her chin rested on your clavicle and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “You did what Clint and Steve couldn’t quicker, easier — and all of it . . .”

“I love you,” you said, cutting her off effectively. She didn’t need to have a spiral right now — because that’s what this was turning into and Natasha needed to understand that your role in her life was not changing because of this. “I love you and we’re making it out, do you hear me? If your fear is that I’ll walk away then you can let that go right now.”

She stared at you, blinking the tears down even though some escaped. “I love you too, but sweetheart none of what you said after that was legible.”

It didn’t matter, you were out.

Doctor Cho was a woman of terrifying excellence and extraordinary character. You had never met her in person beforehand — a fact you proudly wore like a pin due to your incredible safety standards in the lab.

But once you started becoming more alert over the next few days, you managed to stay awake long enough for you to meet her at her daily check-ins.

This time your babysitter was Tony. You almost vomited your breakfast on him when he came to relieve Natasha so she could get some rest and TLC at the Compound. You would never protest her actually agreeing to go and take care of herself, but Tony, as deeply as you adored him as your boss and the man you’ve come to see as a friend, would not stop talking.

He had brought one of his miniature holographs and had removed your bedside table, “Oh sure, I was entirely done with my food, Tony,” you said as he wheeled it to the end of your bed, food still half eaten and fork still lifted in the air and in your hand.

He placed the gadget on the table and began fiddling with the settings before pulling up blueprints.

Specifically, your blueprints. Of the project you’d been so busy with for the last two years that it had taken its own team to continue progress on.

These looked different than your designs however, and the math was not correct in the corner of your work.

“Tony,” you started, patience ebbing by the second, “did you steal my project?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, his eyebrows shooting into his slicked up hairline as he crossed his arms and glared at you, “I was bored one evening —“

“— you don’t get bored —“

“ — and I found your project. And I should have, I admit, placed more interest in it with how often you helped me with my arts and crafts.” He rubbed his goatee, then snapped his fingers and started playing around with the holographic designs now activated. “I figured out why your prototypes weren’t working out.”

“Oh, gee,” you said glumly. “What did I miss?”

“It’s not that you missed anything, my young apprentice.” He started zooming into one of the corners of the blueprint. “Do you check your work?”

“Multiple times. Daily.”

“Are you sure?”

You squinted at him. “Yes.”

“Wonderful to hear, because you didn’t on this occasion of this design.” He pulled up the mathematics and pointed to your work. “It’s one of your first ones, and I think you’ve been grazing over it instead of going back to it.”

You trailed your eyes over each mathematical equation, and when you saw the mistake you made you groaned loudly. “Fuck.”

“Not a problem!” Tony replied cheerfully. “I fixed the math, thus fixing your big issue of not producing the right product. When you return to work, there will be the correct blueprints and a 3D printer ready to create a prototype.”

“You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid,” you said, again glumly. “Natasha has informed me that my return to any sort of work is forbidden until Cho signs off on it. Strictly.”

Tony rubbed his goatee again, contemplating. “I can perhaps talk her into allowing you to work from home?”

“That may actually be great. I fear I may go insane if I have nothing to do for six weeks outside of my physical therapy and checkups.”

“Bah.” Tony waved his hand at you as he turned off the hologram and pocketed it, flopping down on the visitors chair next to your bed. “You’ll be right as rain under Cho’s careful guidance.”

“You’d know?” you needled, quirking a brow at him.

He shrugged. “Avengers get hurt.”

You fell asleep sometime into his visit, waking up to Natasha having replaced him once more. She had scooted the chair next to the bed closer than Tony had had it and was reading through some paperwork. She wore a green jacket and her hair was done in a braid down her shoulder.

“Wow, I may go blind from just how pretty you are.”

Natasha let the page in between her fingers drift back down as she looked up and rolled her eyes, ensuring you saw such action. “And I may just cry from how low hanging fruit that was. Even for you. No, especially for you.”

“Leave her alone,” a deeply accented voice drawled from your left, startling you a greater deal than you expected, “she’s likely maintained some brain damage after Stark’s prattling today.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Just Yelena, unfortunately,” Natasha corrected, throwing the paperwork on top of her bag next to the chair as she leaned over to fix your wires after they nearly ripped from your skin.

The blonde in question was leaning against the windowsill, nearly shadowed out from the dipping sunlight and staring at you with a smirk on her face. “Oops.”

“Oops,” you mocked, Russian accent pronounced.

“Twist the IV, Nat,” Yelena says without looking away from you, “make it hurt.”

“Don’t you have some American politicians to terrorize or something?”

“Ha.” Her nose wrinkled in amusement as she pushed herself off and walked closer to you before collapsing at the end of your feet.

“Yelena,” Natasha scolded, though it went ignored. “Get off the bed.”

“Yeah, get off the bed.” You stared at her as Natasha flicked your wrist. “Ow.”

“You’re encouraging her. Enough. Both of you. I need you in almost an entire piece if we want to get you home, and that means Yelena shouldn’t be riling you up,” your girlfriend expressed, shooting daggered glares at the younger of the two.

Who proceeded to throw her hands up like she did nothing wrong in the slightest. “I am entertainment. For funnies.”

“You’re loads of funnies,” you agreed, smile rising up on your face. Natasha grabbed your chin and turned you to her. “And you’re so pretty.”

“She’s dosed,” Natasha concluded, releasing your chin after you leaned in for a kiss. “That’s why she’s entertaining you right now.”

Yelena seemed to find this aspect to be incredibly enticing, and she started trying to ask you questions about weird things like Kate’s favorite bar, and where she liked to go on dates, and —

“Yelena.” Natasha’s tone was sharp. “Stay and turn on the television, and watch it, or leave. I’m serious.”

“You’re always serious.” Yelena frowned at the redhead but skulked over to the free chair, away from you, and requested you turn on the TV.

The three of you watched the television in silence for about thirty minutes when Yelena asked you, “Did you tell them anything about Natasha?”

Natasha was silent, but you could have sworn you heard her inhale a sharp breath from your right.

“I don’t remember a lot,” you admitted to the blonde, finding the courage to look her in the eye. You found an intensity there of a sort — not angry or cold, but curious and questioning. “But I remember that I never said a word about Nat. I refused at every turn.”

Yelena flexes her fingers behind her head, then turned her gaze back to the television and was seemingly satisfied with that answer.

Natasha, however, was not.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you give her what she wanted, if it could have saved your life?”

“Well, I signed an NDA,” you started casually, glancing over to gauge her reaction. When she didn’t give you the response you sought, you close your eyes. “Natasha, why the fuck would I give you up? Explain to me in simple terms, like I’m stupid.”

“I’m not going to insult your intelligence,” she quietly answered, in that dangerous tone you knew from her. “But if she asked you for something — it could have —“

“She was going to kill me anyway,” you said. “She even said she wanted to do it sooner. But my torture — as it was — was prolonged so that you’d have a better chance at getting to me. Seeing the damage. Reacting to it.”

“She wanted to do it sooner,” Natasha echoed, cold.

“She mentioned an employer. I don’t remember much of that conversation,” you said with guilt seeping into your tone, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Natasha enveloped your hand in hers and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Don’t be sorry. Nothing you went through is your fault, or worth and apology from your end.”

“Maybe not,” you agreed, still unconvinced. “That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for what I couldn’t stop her from doing.”

“That’s my line,” Natasha scolded, shaking her head. “But you’re sweet.”

“Get a room,” Yelena muttered good-naturedly.

“We’re . . . We’re in my room.”

“I never asked,” you said tiredly once you got out of the hospital. “Did the cats . . . They’re okay?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” Natasha said as she drove you home, hand on your thigh, or your hand, or leg. Touching you was more common than it had been before you were taken and tortured. She couldn’t seem to let herself let you go. “They both managed to hide under the bed — though Sam got his hands mangled when he tried to grab them.”

“Oh no.” You smiled a little. “We should write him a card.”

“I think that would piss him off more, honestly.”

Natasha and r will return in part six

PART SIX

[alpaca-clouds]

So, some theories about Coyote and/or Mephistopheles

Alright, I will throw my proverbial hat into the ring in terms of trying to come up with a theory about this. Because I am not exactly sold on the most popular theory right now that old man Coyote and/or Mephistopheles is a new manifestation of Death. The main reason for that is, that Coyote is a bit too important in regards to indigenous mythologies. So having Coyote be Death, who is a fairly one-note villain, would definitely feel quite a bit disrespectful.

Well, y'all know where you are. So of course we will talk about some history. Duh.

Mephistopheles

I think most of us will know that Mephistopheles originates with the Faustus myth. So let me talk shortly about Johann Georg Faust, who was a real person, who lived in Germany around the change from the 15th to the 16th century. (From all we know, he lived from 1466 to 1540, though the dates are not fully certain, as it often is the case with older dates.) Details about his life are really hard to construct, because he became such a popular character in fiction very shortly after his death, that it is just super hard to differentiate fiction from reality. We know, however, that he was an alchemist, astrologist and magician - whatever the latter is supposed to mean at the time. Later people also claimed he was a con man. From all we know (though again, this is not certain) he died by blowing himself up with an alchemical experiment, which definitely is on brand.

If it was just that, we would probably not really remember the guy. Sure, he might have a Wikipedia article still, but hist name would not be recognized by thousands if not millions of people. No, this happened because in 1587 a book was printed, called "Historia von D. Johann Fausten". We don't know the author, just the publisher (Johann Spies). And this story then caught the attention of the Englishman Christopher Marlowe, who made something of a rewrite and translation of it a few years later as the play "Doctor Faustus", which a long while later would then serve as inspiration for Goethe and his interpretation of the story.

The rough outline however is always the same: Faust is a theologist, who wants to acquire knowledge and finds himself limited by the at the time slow advance of science. A devil Mephistopheles shows up, who serves Lucifer, and offers Faust a lot of knowledge and magic in exchange for his soul. Faust accepts. Depending on which version you read, what follows is either tragedy or a lot of magic hijinks, though the moral of the story is always: "Do not be too greedy with knowledge."

Since we do not have any sources referencing Mephistopheles prior to the printing of the Historia, we are fairly certain that whoever wrote that book made Mephistopheles up. Meaning: This figure was not based in prior myths or historical believes. Or to put it differently: Mephistopheles goes back to 1587. He did not "exist" in the real world - not even as an idea - prior to this date.

After the Faust story got so popular, though, other stories definitely picked up on Mephistopheles and put him into a variety of other stories as a trickster demon, who would often seduce good men into doing back things - often with the goal of gaining power or knowledge or both.

Old Man Coyote

Meanwhile, Coyote is a character who shows up throughout indigenous North American mythology, and - as someone has rightfully pointed out - somewhat also in Nahua mythology (Nahua = Aztec, I am trying to use the endonym rather than the exonym).

See, in Nahua mythology there is a god called Huehuecoyotl, and as you might guess: Coyotl indeed means coyote. To be exact the name translates to "Old Coyote", which indeed is quite close to "Old Man Coyote". ;)

Huehuecoyotl is (according to Wikipedia, because I still have not found a good book on Nahua mythology - please, someone, recommend me something) the Nahua song of song, dance, mischief and also of uninhibited sexuality. Because of this, he was - like so many trickster gods - also technically genderfluid, as he could take whatever form he liked. He would often play tricks on other gods and on humans too, at times even cause wars. But like with other Coyote stories, these often would fall back on him.

Which brings me to all those other versions of Coyote.

While Coyote does not show up in every North American indigenous culture, he certainly shows up in many of them. The most well known Coyote myths are obviously of Navajo origin, bout the Navajo are not the only culture featuring Coyote.

Coyote is pretty much always a trickster, and like many tricksters he is generally a positive figure, but also morally grey. While in many myths he is responsible for some creations of the world, he will usually also often cause misery to others and also himself. He also often dies gruesome deaths, but finds then ways to come back from them.

In some myths he will also take up the role of a culture hero, meaning that he will be responsible for bringing the human certain things, like fire or language. Even as Coyote he does at times appear as a shapeshifter of sorts, though this is not always a given.

Coyote shows up in more than 20 different mythologies that we know off. While his general role as a trickster is often the same, the finer details will definitely differ a lot.

So, the Theory

So, the Spanish conquest of the Nahua happened in 1519. And we also know that in general around the turn of the century the genocide in the Americas was so bad that it possibly created a fucking climate change! (It got colder because so much CO2 got sucked from the atmosphere.)

And so my suspicion here is, that Coyote, the trickster (I am not fully sure if it is specifically Huehuecoyotl, or a generic Coyote), went over to Europe after the indigenous cultures were genocided, to exact revenge. And when he went over to Europe, he took up an identity that worked better with the believes of the people in Europe: Mephistopheles.

He might also have taken some other identities in some other cultures.

The reason I do not really think it is Death (even though timeline wise it could obviously also match up, given that the entire Faust thing mainly happened just after the events of the first four seasons) is really that Death was a very one-note villain. And it just would not feel right to me to make Coyote - who is definitely not one-note - as Death.

[tuliptic]

My Way: Finding My Place in Adulthood

Don’t be afraid, dreams are everywhere, just keep going as I always have, this is my way.

Henlo adults here, this is another reading for y’all. This reading is specifically targeted to all adults: young adults to ease their minds; regular adults to get used to adulthood. Adulthood is really… Something… And this is coming from someone who’s turning 30 soon. I still have no grasp about what I’m doing, how I’m living my life, etc. Adulthood is still scary to me, though I have to say I’m seeing myself getting better and better day by day. Taking baby steps is important, as we all grow from what we experience.

Close your eyes, meditate on this topic and ask yourself the question: How am I supposed to move around in adulthood, being an adult? Breathe in and out, make sure your mind and heart is calm. Then, open your eyes to see which pile talks to you the most/draws you in the most. Once you’ve found your pile, scroll down to the respective parts to see what are the messages for you.

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

Disclaimer: This is solely for my entertainment purposes. Take only whatever you feel like it. If it doesn’t resonate, it’s okay to just drop it. Also, I do not consent to my work or images being used by third parties on this platform or other websites as well.

Decks used: Luna Cat Tarot Deck (Major Arcana), Linestrider Tarot Deck, Sweet Dreams Oracle Deck, Starcodes Astro Oracle Deck.

Pile 1: Don’t be afraid, dreams are everywhere

One card to represent you: The World

I feel like there’s some sort of fear and enlightenment here. Some of you have an idea of what you want to do or achieve in your life, some of you know your life purposes, most of you are content with how your life is right now and are just going with the flow. However, all have a certain discomfort in common, which is fear of uncertainty. Most here may have earth influence in your chart, where stability is needed, where you are able to hold certain control over your own life. What if I do this and I could no longer go back? What if I give up my job and pursue something else? You have the answers to these questions, but you’re not ready to take the first step because of how certain you are that things will not go as you planned and hence, you’re in a standstill. (PS: Some of you may be into spirituality as well, and you might be called to use this gift to achieve enlightenment for yourself and the people around you.)

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - Four of Wands rx

For some reason, I feel that… You expect difficulties. You don’t expect or believe good things can come to you without lessons or pain. You believe in fairness and balance, that amazing things can only come to you if you put in the effort and work hard. Hence, you tend to not take certain opportunities either because you think you don’t deserve it or you don’t think you’re capable of it. In a sense, I’d say that this way of thinking has caused quite some conflict and tension, not allowing you to enjoy the peace and security you usually like. What has brought you comfort in the past is now hindering you to accept new happiness in.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - Seven of Cups rx

Seven of Cups is a card of illusion, but with it in reverse, it is a card of choice. This relates back to the first card pulled, the card to represent you. You know what to do, you are capable of doing it, but there’s fear holding you back. Or maybe, fears. To you, you’re not only jumping out of your comfort zone, but into a danger zone where you have no idea how to manage the risks. Accept your fears, let yourself fall, let yourself fail. Have courage, believe that you’ll still be able to stand up after the fall and grow better from it. You’ll be surprised with what you’re capable of.

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - Death rx

This card here is very self-explanatory: You fear change. That’s it. You prefer stability over anything else, and you fear losing control over what you have. What is yours needs to remain yours. This may stem from insecurities that were caused by traumas when you were younger, may it be people leaving you, or being disappointed by others, or something else. It has definitely affected your thought process, your understanding of the world and your way around it. The first thing that came into my mind was therapy, because there are some deep-seated issues that you may have. You’ll need to identify your fear, the root cause of it, work it out, and step out to try something new, constantly regenerating yourself on the way.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Nine of Wands

You’re resilient. You may not think so, thinking that how you function is just the norm and everyone else does the same. No, you’re different. You have gone through a lot of things and those experiences help you manoeuvre yourself around the present issues, and you learn as you grind through the challenges presented. People may see you as an inspiration with how you manage to not dim your lights through the darkest nights. You need to know that you have a side like this, and that you’re able to encourage others through you being you. Shine. Accept yourself and shine brighter, be the inspiration you’ve wanted to be. You’ll be surprised with how things will fall in place and come to you.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - Eight of Wands

I’d say building connections would help you in the long run. Eight of Wands is a card that talks about action, which is… Again, self-explanatory. But what sort of actions should you be taking? In what field? Connections and networking. I’d say most of you have a way with words, or some may even have 3H or 11H placements. By building a web of connections, you’re able to gather information and help from various parties that will help you to get on the right track. Some may even push you towards the direction that you want to head to. Be proactive in making friends, talking to people, and taking the first step. Once you throw yourself out, people will know you and will be able to provide the support you need. And then you can vroom your way.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Five of Pentacles rx

One comforting message here is that difficult times shall pass. You may think you overcame something but there’s more to work on, which you’ll realise that the issue you face is still affecting your decision making as of current. You’ve got to review your past and learn your lessons, know that you can’t afford to stay in this mindset for long. This card acts as a sign that it’s time for you to move from feeling insecure to a more adjusted mindset, which will be prompted when you see new perspectives. You will be receiving messages from your guides and higher selves in various forms. Trust your gut feeling, believe in every reason that makes you feel better.

Overall energy: The Tower, Five of Cups rx

The themes of lesson, growth and replacing things and values that no longer serve you. Liberation will come to you when you move past that phase that’s holding you back. Hmm… Lemme reword myself. This pile gives me the feeling of something promising is coming, but you’ll need to go through the lessons (aka accepting that good things can come to you without your expected cost, it’s alright to fail, the need to find out the root cause of insecurities, etc). Life will present opportunities to learn, and will bring in new people for you to grow together. You know you are loved. If you don’t know it, now you do. Believe it.

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Pile 2: Finally we begin

One card to represent you: The Empress

I would say that you have a gentle energy, you’re the person others go to when they’re feeling down or when they need some advice. You radiate a warmth that’s calming, providing a space of comfort for the hurt and wounded to rest and heal. You are intuitive, tho I have to say that your wisdom outshines it. It’s not just wisdom, it’s not just gentleness, but also a sense of belonging, a place where one returns to. Your intuition is what gives you the ability to see through things, people as well as the unknown. Some of you may have clair abilities, especially claircognizance. 

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - Ten of Pentacles

I would say that you expect to build a life, build a family of your own, to be your own source of whatever you want. You do not want to rely on other people for things, especially financial abundance and happiness. You want to be your own provider so that you would feel secure with it, and that you’ll be able to contribute or give out what you have without needing to be conscious of how others look at you. There’s a hint of family themes among this, so it could also be you wanting to be the provider in your new found family without losing your own independence, if this makes sense.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - Ace of Swords rx

It’s doable, but it’s difficult. I feel that there’s quite some conflict between you and your family, resulting in you wanting to build a new family or to have your own found family. There’s this tension in you that is blocking a lot of blessings, I’d say. There’s a lack of clarity and undefined goals, preventing you from achieving success and happiness (depending on what you define them as). You will need to review your expectations, to set clear and measurable goals, only then you’ll be able to see your progress and further decide on how you want to proceed or to make changes along the way. Do not try to cover up facts or find excuses. You know that it’s not going to help you in the long run. Face it, accept it, work with it. 

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - The Sun

Optimism is great, but being overly optimistic is not good. You tend to see the good side of things and may end up beautifying them, exaggerating them, or even fabricating them unconsciously. For some reason, I’m also seeing that you may be beautifying self-sacrificial tendencies, or attempt to attract people with your pain. You want to shine, want others to pay attention to you. Some of you may be prideful, but some would use whatever they’re “lacking” to attract attention. Example: Your friends use iPhone, and you use Android. Instead of saying you want to be different, you probably will go with the approach of “people who use iPhones are just keeping up with the trend and thinking that’s the higher end”, when in reality you can’t afford an iPhone. This is just an exaggerated example illustrated here for you to have an idea.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Death

Change is your forte. Some of you may not know it, but some of you do (and perhaps do not accept it). It’s not flexibility that we’re talking about, but more of an open-mindedness along with acceptance. Once you’ve overcome your weakness, you will be more open to listening to what others have to say, and forming your own opinion based on whatever information you’ve gathered (from others, from your own research, as well as updating outdated data). The transitioning phase will be smoother during then, when you shift from the old to the new. Right now, I’d say that there’s still a part of you who’s unable to accept that you’re wrong, or incorrect at certain things. There’s no fault in having pride over your knowledge, but if it is hindering you from improving, then you may need to work on that. 

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - The Emperor

Focus on your goals and what you want to achieve. For you, I’d say, one of your goals would probably be something that’s legacy related, may it be inheriting something (finance, career, skills, connections, etc.) or starting a new legacy (starting your own company, building network from scratch, starting to take up a very specific and niche role, etc.). I would also say that you’ll need to look straight ahead. The Emperor can’t afford to look around, only focusing on the path that’s in front of him where he tread carefully but boldly, carving the steps out for his people to follow (somewhat a legacy too). Do not be distracted, do not easily give in to temptation.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Eight of Cups rx

First thing I’d like to say is that your journey is going to be lonely. It’s not just going on that journey alone, but it’s something akin to a burden or a mission that you can’t tell anyone. You may have tried telling a family or a friend about it, and they don’t think it’s a big deal, resulting in you swallowing the pain alone, no longer willing to trust. The disappointment and disillusionment has uhhhh thicken around you. Think of them as fogs around you, and as they thicken, the more difficult it is for you to see your path. That. Communication with boundaries is very important for you right now, where you can put a balance between the socialisation and exposing yourself thoughtlessly. It’s difficult for some people, where you unknowingly overshare too much. Learn from it, find out a way that works for you. Open yourself to things, allow yourself to be open to inspirations from things and people around you.

Overall energy: Strength, Six of Swords rx

You’re strong, knowing where to go and how to reach your destination. Just that whatever that’s happening around you is preventing you from moving forward. You’re holding a lot of things back because whatever situations you’re in, but your passion and faith in life is strong enough to support you. You are doing your best with whatever you have right now, looking for opportunities in life’s challenges and learning the lessons. It is a difficult time, but have faith that things will turn for the better. Prepare your boat, and once the wind blows, set sail.

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Pile 3: No matter what I’m going my way, to the place I’ve dreamed of every night

One card to represent you: The Chariot

I would say that you’re someone who’s goal oriented. You know what you want and you'll work towards it. I would also say that you may be impatient at times, wanting to achieve things in a short time. It feels like you feel that you're running out of time, especially when you compare yourself to your peers. For example, people your age have been talking about career advancement while you're still figuring out what to do, or your friends are married with kids and you're still single and feeling miserable. You know you're on the right path at your own pace, and you appreciate your days and blessings, but sometimes you just feel anxious about being “left out”. 

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - Three of Swords rx

You expect yourself to be healed from your wounds and traumas soon. You want it quick, you want it urgently, and you’re pushing yourself far more than you can deal with at the moment. You probably may have gone through some childhood traumas and you’ve left them as they are. It may be due to the society or environment you grew up thinking that whatever you experienced was normal (Asian families, perhaps?). You thought vulnerability was a fault until recent years, where you learn to accept and honour them, and from there you proceed to heal your inner wounds. You may have thought that once you’re done with Phase 1, you can immediately complete Phase 2 of your healing, and… Sorry to break it to you, it’s not gonna happen that way.

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - Two of Swords

It feels like you’re asking yourself the question: Am I healed or not? And your answer to it is either yes or no. Which… Is not how healing works. Healing is a process; a journey, not a mathematical equation which is either right or wrong. You may think you’ve been healed but in reality, you may not have achieved that yet. You’re not seeing a lot of things yet, which is why you need to rely on your senses, especially hearing. You need to learn to listen to the whispers of others, may it be your friends or your guides. You are not alone, you have people accompanying you through this journey because you are loved. Healing is not linear, so take your time.

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - The Fool rx, The Devil

I would say that you have expectations and you may think you’re living up to that, believing that you’re better and you live like it. … Lemme rephrase myself: You think you’re alright and that you’re living as how you expect yourself to be when you are not. It’s like you’re putting on a mask to deceive yourself and to show others that you’re doing fine. There’s this saying that you’ll need to fool yourself first if you want to fool your enemy. That’s you. You’re pretending and putting up an act, which will eventually cause your downfall to be greater than what you’ve experienced. Your insecurities are devils in disguise, which you probably know of. Now that you know of this side of yours, you will need to think and use your brain to figure out as you go. 

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Four of Swords rx, Eight of Pentacles rx

I would say that you’re very action based, and you think a lot. One thing that’s special about you is that you know when to stop thinking. Unlike most people, once they start thinking, they spiral into their thoughts and have no way out. You, however, know when to stop and how to pull yourself out from that headspace. From there, you then use that energy and time to focus on earth-themed items, such as career, work, fame, building something, etc. You’re basically the healthy combination of brain and physical energy, making sure both of these aspects are taken care of, working on them when others are still trapped in their heads. If you think that you do not have this trait, maybe you can try it out. I believe all can achieve this, but your pile is able to tap into it easily as compared to others.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - Four of Pentacles

Learning to focus on yourself, to put yourself first before others. I’m not sure if you’ve been called selfish for putting your needs above others, but you’re not. You can only share when you have extra/excess, and that’s when sharing becomes something comfortable and meaningful. Remember, you are not supposed to burn yourself to warm others. Let yourself have your own time, build connections with yourself and with others. Collaboration is something that you can work on, may it be work related projects or personal projects. Passion projects are things that will help you redirect your energy, and for you to keep yourself occupied when you realise your thoughts are jumbled up again with the excess energy.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Three of Cups

I would say that you will need to build your own home with people you trust in, with people you’re comfortable with. You may have gone through quite some family trauma, and your safe space may no longer lie with it. Remember, home is where the heart lies. As long as you feel comfortable, comforted and safe, you are home. For some reason, you may have been seen as the black sheep of your family. You have been told that you have great communication skills (may also have 3H placements), and it would be great if you know how to use that skill to its full potential. There’s more you can do with it, may it be drawing people to you, or drawing people away from people who harmed you. 

Overall energy: Judgement, Wheel of Fortune rx

I feel that you tend to judge yourself a lot, or people may have passed their biased judgement onto you when you’ve decided to not go their way. There are also some… Remnants? Of feelings of unjust? You have felt that life was unfair and things have not been going your way. Though you may have put that thought aside real quick cuz you believe in yourself more than what the stars or fate has said. You prefer to take things into your own hands instead of whatever higher beings there are out there, and I’d say that you’re doing a good job with it.

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.

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Pile 4: I admit it now life is a long marathon, the difference is that I set the course

One Two cards to represent you: The High Priestess, The Lovers rx

The first word that came to me is intuitive. You know you’re intuitive and you have used your intuition on a lot of things that came into your life, may it be making decisions or using it to discern those who come close to you with agendas. But still, you probably have some… Troubles with love? Not necessarily romantic ones, but platonic and love towards yourself as well. For some reason, I feel that you may feel called to be a lover. It can be self love, but personally, I feel that the energy here is more outwards, where you are supposed to love others, and yet there’s no one out there deserving of your love. Some of you may have 12H or Pisces placement as well, which may give others an impression of being dreamy or drunk in love. (My logical head thinks so, but for some reason I’m feeling that heart-clenching feel, as well as a sense of loss. Not sure how to phrase it well tbh.)

1. What are the expectations I have for myself? - The Moon rx

Weirdly, for some reason, I’d say that you expect yourself to be… Different? You know you’re different and that you may sometimes feel that you are unable to align with how this world functions. Hence, when you feel you’re becoming too “earthly”, you may feel torn, because you expect yourself to do or achieve “unearthly” things, eg: to be a spiritual guru, to do reiki healing, etc. You are definitely one pile that is more prone to the spiritual side of the world, where you’ll often have a nagging feeling at the back of your head when you’re not doing anything of that sort. 

2. Feasibility on achieving those expectations? - The Empress

It is definitely something achievable, that is, if you focus on healing yourself as well as creating meaningful bonds with the people around you. One of the main themes of The Empress is to nurture, which you are called to not only nurture the people around you, but also to nurture yourself. You will also need to be with the right group of friends who will be able to help you flourish (and of course, you helping them as well, as this is a mutual relationship). I honestly don’t know what else to say about this because the message is repetitive, and I think you know it as well. 

3. What are my weaknesses and how do I compensate? - Two of Cups rx

This card in this position talks about tension, deception or even lack of trust between you and your spiritual side. For some reason, I’m feeling that you are holding too strongly to a certain thought or a belief. It causes stress and fatigue, making you lose hope in the process. Instead of taking a forced “temporary” approach, it would be better for you to reflect on what it brings you, and to let go of past beliefs that no longer serve you. Two of Cups is supposed to be a card of joyful celebration, a union between two parties. You will need to turn the card upright. It’s time to release the old and embrace the new, only then you’ll be able to grow into your very best self.

4. What are my strengths and how do I get better at them? - Six of Swords rx

I would say that one of your strengths is special, because it is not so to a lot of people. You do not let your problems push you, but you work your way with it. See, most people’s first reaction is to solve the problem or to run away from it, but you choose to live with it and rebuild your life around it. There’s a part of you that is unwilling to make your life a mess by running and avoiding the problems. You surrender. Not in a negative way. You surrender the pain and stress, you abandon the old, limiting beliefs, and you live in the present. The best way I can describe it is… It’s like you’re a monk, where you live with whatever that is happening around you. Waves (troubles and challenges) are around you, and you’re on the boat, keeping yourself calm, not bothering with what the world is doing, keeping your calm. It's like you know there's a life after death and that you're working on it right now instead of being present in the current earthly life.

5. What is it in adulthood that I should focus on? - Ace of Wands

Ace of Wands is the first card in the Minor Arcana. What I’m picking up from here is that you’ll need to create a new beginning for yourself. I wouldn’t say it’s The Fool kinda journey, because The Fool’s journey is of meeting people and learning the lessons on the way. Your kind of journey is understanding what you want, seizing opportunities, and turning your enthusiasm into actions. You have an idea of where you want to go, when you want to reach there, how you’re going to move, with whom you will want to travel on this journey. I would also say that it would be a great time for you to filter your circle so that you’ll be able to go on this journey with the least distraction.

6. What are the directions and advice that I need to know/hear? - Four of Pentacles rx This is a time where you should consider relaxing your mind and remember that you cannot control what others are doing or holding. You know you have enough, and instead of focusing on the action of others, focus on yourself instead and how you can block out the noises. With this done, you will be able to move from a period of control and fear and anxiety to a stage of being more open (and blank). It’s like… Once you are able to clear your mind, those noises no longer mean a thing to you, and you’ll be able to focus on yourself and what you want to achieve. I’m also picking up words like “zen”, “calm” and “enlightenment”. … Yeah the word “monk” too.

Overall energy: The Devil, The Chariot

I am feeling some self-sabotaging themes here. It may sound difficult to accept but I do think The Devil here talks about you, where you’re embodying some traits, thoughts or beliefs that you’re unwilling to let go. Y’know how some things turn toxic when there’s excess or if you hold onto it for too long? That. It’s burdening you and you probably are actively trying to run away from it. I’m having the image of you being annoyed at how you’re not progressing, and you end up flipping the table, scattering all the plans you’ve made for yourself. Probably some big changes are bound. Clear up the space and welcome your spirit guides to show up in wondrous and unexpected ways.

[deityoftherain]

redhot anger - Snowbugs Wild Life Session Three Fanfic

there are wild life session three spoilers because it takes place then

Rating: Gen

Relationship: M/M

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 2,028

Summary: It's Wild Life Session Three, and Tango is (rightfully) frustrated, stressed, annoyed, and angry- everything was going wrong and he could only contain himself, his emotions, his /fire/, for so long before everything boiled over... luckily, Scott is there to help (takes place around the time Tango is GRAJFHDSJKHFSDJ-ing as his base burns)

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Tango saw red.

He did! Promise!

And Tango didn’t mean that he saw red in the metaphorical way, like people often claim to when they are very angry, though, well– he supposed that interpretation wasn’t necessarily wrong either, but still! He was furious and stressed, and he was having to pierce his tongue with his fanged teeth to bite back the long string of swears threatening to escape his lips. 

Ugh, why did Grian insist that they attempt to stay PG while playing a death game?

He knew the answer, but that didn’t mean he cared for it, but Tango tried his best to not argue and abide by them anyway. It was a small price to pay to be included.

Tango was a blazeborn, and because of his heritage, his vision literally became tinted with red the more extreme his emotions became. Doc theorized that it was something related to how red his eyes were, but seeing how very few blazeborns even attempted to live a full life away from the nether and their birth Pyre, there was little information on them in the overworld, and the goat-creeper hybrid hadn’t gotten around to attempting in-depth research on blazeborn anatomy or culture before getting to know Tango.

Anger simmered violently in his stomach, threatening to boil over as he tried (and failed) to manage his stress and frustration. Everything seemed to be going wrong for him, and it was all piling up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate it all! His hair grew in both size and temperature as he stalked away from his murder snail and complained about the actions of others. Even while actively moving and talking, it was difficult to think clearly, difficult to focus!

The extra energy and adrenaline that pumped through his veins were the result of territorial instincts every blaze had ingrained in their code, aiding them as they protected whatever they thought of as theirs. If Tango lived his life like most other blazeborns have the last who-knows-how-long, then perhaps he could have cultivated his fury to be a mighty asset to his Pyre, likely tasked to guard a nether fortress from invaders, but that life wasn’t for him. Tango knew that for a fact, and even if he wasn’t as sure, he doubted his old Pyre would welcome him back with open arms after functionally deserting them. 

Even if they would accept his return, Tango didn’t plan to crawl back to his old Pyre and prove them right, that he would regret leaving his home. There were times where he grew uncomfortably needy, desperate for a Pyre’s connection, but he’s learned to soothe himself by seeking out his friends. They were his Pyre now, even if he hadn’t expressed such a concept to them yet. They didn’t need to know the exact reason why he was suddenly clinging to anyone who would let him after emerging from working on redstone the past two weeks.

If the involuntary response had any uses for the life he led now, he didn’t know them. All Tango could see were downsides, his genetic coding maladapted to the world he was currently living in. Whenever his emotions got the best of him, he attempted to control himself, he really did, but it wasn’t like the fragility of the overworld could handle any margin of error like the nether could. Tango struggled often to tame the fire and bloodlust within him when every fiber of his being itched– screamed– to destroy, destroy, destroy!

Such an instinct may have been a strength to his ancestors, but it wasn’t to Tango, and he learned to despise this part of himself over the years. The willpower he had to gather in order to hold himself back– to prevent himself from becoming as hot as a dying star– was astronomical, and maintaining it was sickening. 

When Tango’s vision went red, he would make senseless choices and take irrational risks, but there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t like he had a say in the coding of his genetics! It wasn’t his fault that he was hardwired for a much warmer climate, one where he could let off steam when it got this bad without causing irreparable damage! It wasn’t–

Do it, a voice in the back of his mind tempted. Burn bright and fierce. Show them how dangerous you really are. Make them fear you, Tango! Don’t let them view you as weak.

Tango shook his head as if to physically dismiss the thought, trying to bring himself back into the moment. If his friends were speaking to him, he wasn’t registering a thing they said. He knew that he needed to calm down, but the quickest way was to burn off steam, but it was too risky, it was too much! Too much, too much, too much–

He could accidentally hurt someone, which may have been fine if he was permitted to kill, but he wasn’t a red name yet, and he couldn’t break the rules like that without consequences, and he didn’t want the others to hate him or kick him out of the game... Tango didn’t want to lose his friends, his Pyre! He had worked too hard to get to where he was just to let it all slip through his fingers like grains of sand!

Smoke and fumes billowed off of him, unable to prevent their existence any longer. The rational part of his mind ordered him to jump into the water, to extinguish himself before this whole section of the map looked more like a meteor landing site than a base, but his body refused to obey. His body seemed to move without him consciously aware of what he was doing, and he could hear himself talking, but he couldn’t make out what he or his friends were saying. Focus, Tek! Focus!

Tango had to stay calm– try to stay calm– the normal way, even as his body was trembling with the effort. Even as he jumped around the base he hadn’t even managed to finish before someone (cough, Scar) took a flint and steel to it, attempting to outrun Tangastrapod, his snailificatior of death! Even as various snarls, growls, and irritated cries spilled out of him…

Everything was just building, building, building, and he braced for his will and spirit to finally Snap! under the pressure, and, and– it never came. 

Instead, something pleasantly cold took Tango’s hand in their hold. The contrasting sensation seemed to snap Tango out of whatever funk he had entered, the red that flooded his senses clearing up as his consciousness was fully returned to his body. Tango blinked rapidly, encouraging his eyes to focus on the owner of the cold.

“It’s okay, Tango, just breathe,” Scott instructed serenely, tone even and touch soothing. “Big breath in, deep breath out, just like that. Good job, firefly, you’re doing great. Just like that, keep going, keep focusing on breathing and the sound of my voice.”

Tango did his best to match Scott’s exaggerated breathing, though he couldn't bring himself to maintain eye contact. As the blinding irritation eased, shame and self-consciousness took its place. Tango’s gaze fell to his right palm, the hand Scott was cradling gingerly.

Using his ice abilities, Scott traced designs made of ice on his up and down Tango’s arm. Because of Tango’s abnormally high body temperature, the ice designs didn’t last long, melting and then promptly turning into steam, but Scott didn’t complain. Instead, Scott simply acted as if the evaporated ice just gave him more of a canvas, replacing the designs as soon as the previous ones dissipated.

As Tango surrendered to the tranquil and pacifying nature of his boyfriend’s chilly touch, his emotions settled and his body temperature lowered enough for the flame on his head to shrink. Tango’s code prevented his fire from charring anyone or anything under a certain degree, which is part of what made his raging emotions so hazardous to those around him. 

The ice designs Scott created began to last longer, Scott’s magic able to hold itself together against Tango’s typical range of heat. This meant that Scott’s canvas wasn’t renewing itself as fast, but that didn’t deter him. Instead, Scott expanded his canvas, trailing the artistry from Tango’s arm over his shoulder to spread the ice to his chest and then down his other arm. 

Tango may have described it like a warm hug, but, well, it was quite the opposite, and it was fantabular, just so everyone was aware of that fact. He cracked a weak smile at the silliness of his mind, but it dropped after only a heartbeat of time as embarrassment took over as his primary emotion.

He slumped forward into his boyfriend, resting his forehead against Scott’s shoulder and sighing heavily. Scott wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer to his chest. His boyfriend was so pleasantly cold that Tango wanted nothing more than to curl up in a comfortable bed and allow Scott to small spoon him, but that wasn’t an option right now… It wouldn’t be until the games were over. They were a part of different factions, and the session was still running, meaning they couldn’t stay still much longer or those stupid jerks would catch up, even though they seemed to have moved a decent bit away from their snails.

“Thank you,” Tango murmured, breaking the quiet peace sooner than he wanted, but he had already taken enough of Scott’s time. He knew it was important to Scott to play these games fair and by the rules, and the rules instructed against outside-the-game-earned favoritism, and Tango hadn’t done anything to earn Scott’s favor since Wild Life started. With how things have been going for him and his team, Tango was sure he’s done the opposite and he doubted that would change anytime soon.

“Of course, lovebug. It’s the least I could do.” Scott continued to rub gentle circles on Tango’s back as he pressed a chaste kiss against his forehead. Void, Tango loved him. “Feeling any better?”

Tango raised his head so he could look up at his boyfriend, forever grateful that Scott loved him back. Instead of a verbal answer, Tango reached up to cup Scott’s face with both his hands, gently guiding him down a few inches so Tango could kiss him. Scott allowed Tango to take the lead with the kiss, though he pulled away before it became too deep.

“I would love to stay here and kiss you breathless,” Scott started, sneaking in the flirt with a teasing gleam in his beautiful blue eyes, “but I don’t think our snails will leave us alone for much longer. I don’t know about you, but I would love not to go down a life when I could have prevented it.”

Tango’s tail straightened in alarm, spinning on his heel to look at where Scott had glanced. As expected, Tangastropod and whatever Scott’s snail was named were crawling dangerously close to them. 

Scott interlocked Tango’s fingers with his before breaking into a mild run, pulling Tango behind him. “Come on! If they get too close, they will leap forward!”

Tango squeaked in surprise as he stumbled after his boyfriend, struggling to gain his footing at first, but he refused to let go of Scott’s hold, not yet. An amused laugh escaped Tango’s lips as he and his boyfriend ran away from their snails of death together, the humor not lost on him now that he was feeling better, and Scott joined in on his laughter, which was always music to Tango’s ears. 

Scott hadn’t magically taken away his all-consuming emotions, of course… and Tango was sure he would become victim to them again, that much was to be assumed, but, well… Scott had been there for Tango when he had needed him, when he had needed an anchor to ground him to reality and help him regain control of himself, and that was more than enough for him. Tango knew it would all be okay, as long as he had his friends, his loved ones, his Pyre by his side.