#lukewarm baths that I still have to climb out of and lay on the floor because I feel like I could faint?

[beazt]

I wonder if there’s any way I can get my Medicaid to cover a shower chair :/ or if there’s any local resources that would donate me one. Unlikely but I should explore it. I’m sick of taking a shower so short I don’t even get to clean myself as well as I’d like and still coming out of it feeling like im dying and exhausted for the rest of the day/night

[disasterofastory]

Newlyweds Part 3 (Uhtred x Reader)

Newlyweds Part 3 Uhtred x Reader Warning: smut

Y/N and Uhtred’s marriage will be fine.

The Great Hall is empty and silent. The air is cold without the fireplace warmth. Candles burn here and there to give you some light in the darkness. Your steps are slow and steady like the first time when you looked around in the building. There are cups on the table and abandoned pelts on the floor.

You never saw this place so deserted since you are here. Somebody is always here. Servants clean after a long day or, warriors sit down for a cup of ale before they go home to their families. Even when you wake up in the mornings, someone is already in the Hall. At first, you found it irritating, but slowly you got used to it. Finan's loud laugh wakes you up from your dreams, and you can’t sit down to drink your tea because you always have things to do.

And now the loneliness makes you sad.

You speed up your steps to reach the closed door of the bathing room. You push it open and see Uhtred lying in the wooden bathtub with closed eyes. His arms flex on the edge as he sits up, hearing your movements. He is clean from dirt and blood, unlike you. He reaches out one of his hands without a word, and you grab it for a few seconds. The skin of his palm is hardened from the sword and hard work. You draw his palm line with your thumb before you let it go and start to undress. The fabric is stick to your skin because of the blood and sweat.

The herbs-filled, steamy air settles down on your lungs as you step into the bathtub with the help of Uhtred. You sit down before him, your back against his chest, and his arms hug you for a little while. His lips peck your neck and shoulder as he frees your hair from the messy braid. He grabs a small bowl to fill it with water and pour it on your head. Your wet locks stick to your skin, and soon the herbs and flowers fill your nostrils, suppressing the steely scent of the blood.

You were full of thoughts the whole day, but now you think nothing. Feel nothing. The emptiness of your head is comforting, and you sigh when Uhtred starts to massage your scalp.

“Are you okay?” Uhtred whispers after a while. He was worried about you the whole day. When he heard about the trap, his heart stopped beating for long seconds. He thought about you and your vulnerability. You were there not so far but far enough from him. His men tried to calm him down but the whole way, he imagined your dead body so many times, he almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you. You looked like a little shield-maiden. Clumsy and afraid but shield-maiden nonetheless. Your soft skin was bloody, and your eyes almost burned from adrenaline and anger.

“Yes,” you answer quietly. “I just want to be close to you,” you confess.

You never thought your marriage would be like this. The man, the Dane, the monster, you feared so much now means comfort and safeness as his arms hug you again from behind.

“I’m here,” he says, kissing your head.

You sit there with him till the water gets lukewarm.

“Come, you will get sick,” he says, stepping out from behind you. He wraps a towel around his waist and helps you out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel too. He caresses your shoulder for a moment, looking down into your eyes.

“I’m proud of you,” he says. “You saved a lot of lives today.”

“I was terrified,” you confess, looking down on your toes because of shame.

“And that’s why I’m proud of you,” he replies, grabbing your chin to lift it up until your eyes meet. “You could have hide, and I wouldn’t blame you, but you stayed and fought.”

You place your hands on his bare chest to support yourself as you stand on your toes. You feel his breath on your lips before he leans closer and kisses you fully. His lips are warm and soft. He moves slowly in sync with yours. His arm hugs your waist, pulling you closer to himself.

“Come,” you say to him, breaking the kiss. You wrap your fingers around his wrist to pull him into your bedroom.

“I take care of the fireplace, you go and lay down,” he says, and you do as you told.

You hear his shuffling behind you as you drop the towel onto the floor and climb on the bed. The pelts feel ticklish on your skin as you make yourself comfortable. Your hair is still wet, and small droplets run down on your bareback.

The fire illuminates his tall form. His muscles are more outlined, and you can’t believe you ever thought of him as a monster. He is handsome, and he didn’t show you anything else but kindness and patience since you are married. Of course, he is cheeky and loves teasing you, but you can live with it. You always imagined your marriage as lukewarm bathwater with an old man, who you don’t love, but now your whole body burns and hurts from desire.

He smirks at your lying form on the bed as he turns around. He let loose the towel around his waist till it falls at his feet. He is already hard, and you have to force yourself to pressure the blush on your cheeks.

You saw his naked body before, but you weren’t brave enough to look at him really. His thighs are muscled, and you make yourself blush when your gaze goes up to his V line, and your first thought is that you want to lick him there.

“What are you thinking?” He asks you slyly, walking to the end of the bed. His length bobs with his steps, and you can’t force yourself to look away.

You know this look. Uhtred is teasing you, he waits for you to be the prude Christian woman he thinks you are. You stare into his eyes with newfound bravery as you climb closer to him. As you kneel on the bed before him, his cock is at the perfect height for you.

“I thinking about me,” you start. His eyes become hooded as you touch his V line. “Licking you here.”

His hardness jumps at your soft touch, and it’s your turn to smirk at his reaction.

“You can if you want,” he says hoarsely.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” you tell him more seriously, and he smiles at you gently with a nod.

Your fingers wrap around his manhood carefully. He is hard and warm under your palm, and you lean closer to him to trace his V line. His skin shines after your tongue. His muscles tense at you curious caresses and a low moan burst out of his throat when you move your hand on his length.

“Harder,” he says, and you look up at him under your lashes. “Like this,” he nods when you grab him more firmly, moving your hand up and down on him. He closes his eyes from the pleasure, and you take the opportunity to look at him better. He is long and hard, and you can’t help yourself but to lean down and lick a vein on his cock. He moans your name in answer, and you take it as a good sign. You play with him like this for a while. You lick him here and there before you take the next step, and you open your mouth for him. He moans again, you feel his fingers on your hair, but he doesn’t force you to do anything. He is patient even if he wants nothing else but devours you this instant.

“Lay down,” he says, nodding to the bed.

Your jaw hurts, but you are satisfied, and you got goosebumps from the waiting. Uhtred climbs above you, his body lays on top of yours as he finds your lips with his. His kiss is wilder than before, and you mewl into his mouth. Your stomach is in burning knots, you have to press your thighs closer to get the friction you want most. You feel the slickness between your legs, and you moan at the feeling of his finger on your mound.

“Open your legs,” he orders you, and you spread your legs to give him access.

Your body arches under his fingers. He plays with your folds and finds every pleasurable spot to make you moan and chant his name. His mouth nibbles on your neck, and he bites into the soft skin as he pushes his finger inside you.

“Uhtred,” you pant, grabbing his shoulders.

Your mind is cloudy and heated from impatience. With his every move, his cock touches your thighs, reminding you, what you want the most.

“I’m ready,” you tell him, caressing his bearded chin to pull him closer to you for a kiss.

“I will be slow,” he promises, pecking your nose as he positions himself.

Your walls aching from his push, but otherwise, you don’t feel pain. You feel full and hot, and you need more. You need him to move.

“It’s okay,” you stutter out, placing your heels on the bed to give you support. You fidget under him for more friction until Uhtred starts to move in and out of you slowly and steadily.

“It’s still okay?” He asks you after a while, looking down on you.

“You can be faster,” you nod. You push yourself up a little to nibble on a bruise on his pale skin.

His movements become more rapid, and you fall back to the bed. You caress his sides and his chest, kissing his neck as he moans from the warmth around his cock.

The burning feeling in your lower body becomes too much to bear, and you let out a small scream from the new feeling. Your muscles tense, turning into a soft tingle as you calm down. Your hands still on the man's shoulder, and he still moves in and out of you. You become sensitive after your orgasm, and his every move feels like a bolt of small, pleasurable lightning in your body.

He cages your body as he stays still inside you, reaching his high. His chest vibrates against yours, moaning your name. You feel his cum leaking out of you as he calms down and lays down next to you after a few minutes while you caressed his back.

His body shines with sweat like yours, and you move closer till you can lay your head on his chest. He hugs you, playing with your fingers on his stomach. Your breath and heartbeat are still rapid. You can hear the blood pumping in your veins.

“Am I still a monster?” He asks you cheekily after a while, and you smile, pecking his skin.

“Yes,” you nod. “But you are mine,” you continue, looking up at your husband's chuckling face as you place your leg between his to get closer to him.

“Seeing you today bloodily with a sword, I’m not sure I am the monster here,” he teases you.

At the beginning of your marriage, you thought Uhtred is a savage monster, but now you feel nothing but proudness thinking of yourself as a savage monster who is ready to do anything to protect her loved ones.

“I’m fine with it,” you shrug, and he laughs again, kissing your hair.

Yeah, your marriage will be just fine.

[sithsecrets]

beside one another | din djarin x reader

The hunt for a quarry takes the Mandalorian and his crew member to a fancy hotel in Canto Bight. The two lie beside one another under the cover of darkness, and the meaning of home comes into sharp focus.

---

3.3k words

Mentions: typical rich people bullshit, people are a little scared of din, a little bit of pining, “there’s only one bed!”, sharing clothes, NO SMUT

---

When Mando tells you that the next quarry’s hiding out in Canto Bight, you can’t help how excited you sound when you ask how long you’ll be staying. He’s his usual stoic self, even in the face of your curiosity, but you do detect a hint of annoyance in his voice as he tells you not to get excited.

“But it’s Canto Bight!” you declare, and the baby echoes your tone by cooing brightly on your hip. “It seems so glamorous!”

“You’ll feel differently once we get there,” Mando states, and then he’s punching coordinates into the navigation system, seemingly done discussing the matter. You buckle into the passenger seat with the baby, settling him on your lap so he gets a good view through the windshield during takeoff. He loves this part for some reason, despite all the rattling and the noise, and he squeals in utter joy like you thought he would.

“At least someone’s excited,” you declare, teasing the Mandalorian for being so grumpy. The man himself says nothing to this, but you’re too pleased with yourself and the prospect of visiting a new place to care.

Before Mando hired you to be his one and only crew member, you’d never really left the Tatoo System. Sure, you’d made a quick trip to here and there, visited a moon or two in your time, but never anything of substance. New places are your favorite thing to collect right now, and you can’t wait to cross Cantonica off your list. You heard stories of Canto Bight when you were little, saw a few holograms of the opulent streets— you can’t wait to see it all in person, even if Mando’s not excited in the slightest. You’re sure it’s different for him, all the traveling and the going to places he’s never been, but the novelty hasn’t worn off for you yet.

The journey to Cantonica is a short one, and before you know it, the Crest is touching down in a sleek, high-class receiving hangar. The landing coordinator sounds like a snob over the comm, making more than one comment about the state of the Crest. But the tone shifts completely once you, Mando, and the baby emerge from the ship, all of the personnel suddenly very accommodating. You’re used to seeing people (the smart ones, anyway) regard Mando with equal parts respect and fear, but this is just excessive. Someone ushers you and the baby out of the sun and into a small office, rushing to offer you a cool drink, and the foreman himself comes out to talk business. The content of he and Mando’s conversation is lost on you, though you do get to watch them talk through a little window.

(Later, you’ll learn that the man let Mando park the Crest here for a fifth of the usual price, but this won’t come as surprise by the time you find out.)

Mando hails a cruiser for the three of you, and then you’re zooming across the dessert on your way to Canto Bight. As the sun slips lower and lower in the sky, the lights of the city become brighter and brighter on the horizon, stoking your excitement. Mando’s minding the baby, so you get to fully enjoy the ride, taking in all you can as the vehicle flies over the sand. Within minutes, sand becomes grass, grass becomes pavement, and then you’re in Canto Bight proper, surrounded on all sides by wealth and luxury. The driver drops the three of you off in front of a grand hotel, and then he’s off without a word, speeding away to pick up another fare.

You, Mando, and the baby make your way inside, and you’re immediately blindsided by the realization that this hotel isn’t a place for you, not really. The interior, much like the building’s exterior, is more opulent than any other building you’ve ever been to, but it’s the people that make you feel like you’re a stain on their carpet. Every single being in the lobby, human or alien, is made up in the galaxy’s finest fabrics and most expensive jewels. They glitter and gleam in the light, and your casual, comfortable clothes looks like rags in comparison. A ball of nervous, self-conscious energy forms in your stomach, the anxiety only made worse by the fact that all eyes are on you. Well, all eyes are on Mando, as they so often are, but you as part of his entourage are subject to scrutiny by mere association. Thankfully, the patrons of this establishment seem more awed than judgmental, but that doesn’t the attention is any less disconcerting.

Before you and Mando can so much as approach the reception desk, you’re stopped short by a man dressed in sharp clothes. His dark hair is perfectly combed and parted, and you catch a hint of expensive cologne as he introduces himself as the resort manager. Mando declines to shake his hand, but you let the man squeeze your palm for a brief moment.

“We need to book a room,” Mando states, trying to use this as an excuse to end the exchange. The resort manager, however, brushes off the attempt with ease.

“That’s already been taken care of, sir.” He gestures towards the elevators with one well-manicured hand, smiling what you can only describe as a customer service smile. “If you follow me this way, I can show you and your companions to your accommodations.”

“We don’t have lines of credit on this planet,” Mando cuts, tone taking on an edge as fishes around for some money. “We just want—”

“Sir,” the resort manager presses, and you have to admire the way he keeps his voice steady even though he looks like he might piss his pants any second, “I assure you that it’s been take care of. Now please, follow me.”

Mando pauses for a moment, staring down this well-dressed, handsome man as if to size him up. But then he nods, and Mr. Manager leads the three of you to the elevators. You ride up up up in a private car, sitting in relative silence the whole way. The manager does most of the talking, asking a few subtly invasive questions about why you’re here— right up until Mando essentially tells him to fuck off. After that, conversation centers mostly around the baby and the amenities available at the hotel, and then you’re walking out into a quiet corridor. It’s not a private floor by any means, but the spacing of the doors lets you know that not many people stay up here. That’s a bit of a relief, at least in your opinion, because the guests here seem rowdy. And drunk. So fucking drunk…

The suite is— Well, the suite is fucking ridiculous, to put it bluntly. It’s four rooms, five if you count the little kitchen area as its own space, and everything is decorated just so. The furnishings are opulent, the upholstery is rich— the ‘fresher alone is bigger than the common area of the home you grew up in. The manager says something about how you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for anything you need, but you barely here him, awestruck in a way by the luxury all around you. Mando sees your escort out, and you can’t believe how casual he’s being about all of this.

“Do—?” The baby makes a discontent noise, ready to be let out of his pram, and you lower him down without giving the action much thought. “Do people always do things like this for you, or…?”

Mando turns to look at you. “Only when they’re scared shitless. As far as all those people are concerned, they’re my next quarry.”

Having received the message, you leave the conversation at that, opting to go and unpack instead of prodding Mando further. The baby toddles about the suite at his leisure, oscillating between cooing at his father and playing on the bed while you work. He’s broken into a basket of complimentary snacks, and you watch as he munches on cookies and chips and a full range of other fine foods. You should probably stop him on the premise of all that ruining his dinner, but Mando’s making noises about going out to do some reconnaissance this evening. With him gone, it’ll just be you and the kid, and you think he can have a treat just this once. Besides, he might crash from the sugar rush, and you could score an evening to yourself in this big fancy hotel room.

“Send me a comm if I’m not here when you wake up,” is all Mando says before he leaves, though he does tilt his head in acknowledgement when you tell him to be safe.

As you suspected, the Child begins to wind down not long after his father leaves, lapsing into a junk food-induced coma with a bag of chips still clenched tightly in his little green hand. You clean up his face and lay him down in his pram for the night, tucking his blankets just so before you click the cover shut.

Virtually alone now, there’s not much for you to do besides bathe and get ready for bed. And so, you do just that, lingering in the bathtub simply because you can. When the water’s gotten too cool for your liking, you climb out and play with the products that have been left out on the countertop, rubbing some expensive lotion into your skin. After that, it’s time to curse quietly to yourself in the bedroom— in all your haste and excitement to pack for this trip, you managed to forget to bring something to sleep in. Mando packed two extra shirts for himself instead of one, however, and you study one of them at arm’s length for a long moment. Wearing another person’s clothes to bed is definitely something you should ask permission to do, that much you know, but… but Mando’s not here, and you need something to wear now. Finally, you slip the garment over your head, deciding that you’ll just apologize later if he gets worked up about it.

Dressed and freshly bathed, your next order of business is to procure some food for yourself. The baby’s still asleep when you get out of the bathtub, so you forgo getting him anything. You do, however, order something that’ll be good for Mando later, something filling that can be eaten lukewarm or even cold when he gets back. Everything is delicious, and you climb into bed full and content.

Even though you’re tired, sleep doesn’t come easily. You find yourself thinking of Mando, and you lie awake wondering what he’s up to— wondering if he’s safe. He’s always doing this, going out for indeterminate amounts of times to hunt his prey, and you worry about him each and every time he’s gone. It’s silly, you know, and for so many reasons. He’s a Mandalorian, for the Maker’s sake— he can take care of himself just fine— and it’s not like he’s yours to fuss over anyway. Sure, the man employs you, but your emotional investment in his safety has grown a bit intense over these past few months. As much as you hate to admit it, Mando’s different to you now, more important than he used to be. The fact that you have feelings for him at all like this is borderline idiotic, but… but sometimes you wonder if he feels things for you too. You don’t have any concrete evidence, your assumptions largely based off of two passing comments and the tilt of his helmet, but still, you cling to the hope that he wants you the same way you want him.

It takes some time, but the sounds of the city do eventually lull you to sleep. You don’t wake again until the early hours of the morning, disturbed by movement in the other room. The clang of Mando’s spurs is a dead giveaway, and you relax as soon as you realize that it’s just him. You try to settle down and drift off again, but you find that you’re suddenly wide awake. So instead, you listen to Mando go about his business, tracking his footsteps from room to room. You hear the shower run in the ‘fresher for a little while, and then a chair scrapes against the floor in the dining room a few minutes after that. The tinkling of a utensils tells you that Mando’s eating the food you got for him, and he must like it, too, because he doesn’t just inhale the plate and move on.

Earlier, after you and Mando realized that the suite only has one bed, he offered to sleep on the couch, and you’d agreed to that. Now, though, you don’t like the idea of him trying to fold his beskar-clad body up on the cushions in the living room. He’s the reason the three of you got this room in the first place, even if he never asked for the special treatment, and you think he’s entitled to at least sleep on the ridiculously soft bed. Still, it’s a presumptuous thing, asking him to lie down with you, and you’re not sure you’re brave enough to do it. You are brave enough, however, to ask him how his surveillance mission went, so you slip out of bed and pad towards the dining room.

“Mando?” you call, voice sounding rather loud in the still darkness. You wouldn’t want to catch him without his helmet on, so you’re giving him a warning.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Mando affirms, and you know the coast is clear by the electronic tinge to his voice.

He’s still sitting there at the table when you turn the corner, and the Mandalorian does seem a bit taken aback by the sight of you. Only now do you remember that you’re wearing his clothes, and two thoughts cross your mind: Will he be pissed with you? Does this shirt even cover your ass properly?

“Is—? You’re wearing my clothes.” Mando is expressionless in the helmet, of course, but the tilt of his voice is indicative of surprise.

You flush, tugging on the hem of the shirt. “Yeah, I— I forgot to pack something to sleep in, and you had an extra one. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Mandalorian says at once, cutting you off. A pause, and then he’s much more collected, much more like himself again. “It’s not a problem, really. No big deal.”

You nod at that, and then things are casual again. You ask Mando if he got any good information about his quarry, and he says that he did. He thanks you for getting him some dinner, and you say that it was no trouble.

“The baby’s sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, jerking your head towards the bedroom. “I have him in his pram. I think all the sweets put him in a diabetic coma.”

Mando doesn’t laugh, but the little huff that comes from his vocoder is enough to tell you that the joke landed. “Good,” he says, “I’m glad somebody’s getting some rest.”

There’s a lull in conversation, the two of you looking at one another from opposite ends of the dimly lit dining room. You lean in the doorway, mock-casual as you toy with the hem of your borrowed shirt.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know,” you say softly, finding it difficult to make eye contact with the visor as you speak.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” the Mandalorian replies. “You got in bed first, so I’m not going to make you move now—”

“No, no,” you chide, interrupting him. “I—”

You take a breath, deciding that now is as good a time as any. It’s time to rip off the bandage, and if this goes to shit, you can always chalk your actions up to exhaustion later.

“I mean, you could come lie down in bed too,” you say quickly, fidgeting nervously. “With me.”

Mando doesn’t say or do anything for one long, agonizing moment, and you’re sure you’re going to throw up. But then…

“Do you want me to lie down with you?”

His voice is quiet through the modulator, almost soft in a way, and the sound of it makes something inside you flutter.

“Yeah.”

You’re almost whispering, and you wonder what the Mandalorian thinks of you in this moment, how you look to him standing there in his clothes, asking him to come to bed with you. It must not be an ugly sight in his eyes, because he stands and walks to you, murmuring, “Come on.”

Mando checks on the baby as you crawl back in bed, rearranging the Child’s blankets, giving him an affectionate little pat. The pram clicks closed, and then Mando’s faltering at the edge of the bed.

“I can’t—” His abandons his words in favor of a display, gesturing towards the armor on his body, to the room as a whole. “This isn’t—”

“I know,” you say softly, because you do. The armor makes him feel safe, makes him feel strong, and he won’t be able to sleep if he takes it off in this strange, foreign environment. “Just take your boots off. Or are those made of beskar too?”

It’s a silly joke, but it earns you a little huff through the vocoder nonetheless.

“No,” Mando retorts, tone light. He takes off more than just his boots, unclipping his utility belt before he sits down on the edge of the bed. It takes Mando a minute to unlace his boots, but when he’s done, he finally lies down beside you, not even untucking the blankets on his side.

“You don’t want some covers?”

Mando shakes his head, and you have to admit that his big, beskar-clad body looks out of place in this even bigger, soft bed. You wonder idly if it would be different on the ship, if Mando would take all the armor off and lie beside you there too. You could never ask him to take the helmet off, that would be too much, but if he was on his own turf instead of holed up in some hotel suite… It’s too late to be worried about all of that now, though, so you force yourself to relax and enjoy this moment.

“This place is sort of fancy,” Mando says to you, voice cutting through the darkness, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, but I like the Crest better.”

“Really?”

You nod again. “It’s… warmer. Everything in this city is so cold. The building’s are pretty, and the streets make a pretty picture, but nobody’s supposed to live here. It’s all for show. Very plastic. I see why you weren’t excited to come here.”

Mando says nothing to this, though somehow you know that he’s not taking pleasure in being right.

Feeling bold, you move a bit closer to the Mandalorian. “I’ll be happy to go home.”

“I’m getting the quarry tomorrow,” Mando says, “probably before nightfall. We can be back on the Crest and off Cantonica before it’s time for us to sleep again.”

You like to think there’s a promise in that, an indication of what’s to come, but you’ll just have to wait and see. You’ll just have to hope.

“Good.”

And as your last act of bravery for the night, you reach out across the sheets and grab Mando’s hand.

He doesn’t pull away.

[levis-little-nuggie]

nuggiiiee!! i wanna request something if it's alright with u!! <3 "10. “If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god! You’re on the couch for a month!!”"with levi and nsfw if you're up for it 👀 they/them pronouns pretty please ily 🥰🥰

Peach!! 💜💜 I'm SO SORRY for how long this took me to write 😭 but I hope you enjoy!! 💜💜

Warnings: Reader uses they/them pronouns with male genetalia, bottom!Levi, penetration, not sure what else to add but will add more if need be 💜💜

10. “If you use up all the hot water again, I swear to god! You’re on the couch for a month!!” NSFW with Levi

You had an agreement with the brothers. Once a week, every Wednesday after dinner, the bathroom with the giant bath tub had your name on it for three glorious hours. You never really needed the fully allotted time but it was more for security in case you lost track of time.

Every Wednesday was like clockwork. Dinner would be over, you'd get all your bath supplies and a book or your handheld gaming system and head to the bathroom. Lucifer would be there to put up the barrier on the door keeping everyone out and you'd have your peace in the most luxurious bathtub you'd ever been in.

Levi had tried mentioning it before, more like he’d hinted it through stutters and a fierce blush before giving up and changing the subject, that his bathtub was just as nice. You'd even pieced together that he seemed to want you to take a bath in his room. Your interest was piqued, but also didn't want to ask him about it in case you'd misinterpreted.

Sitting by the tub, you turned the faucet and waited for the water to heat up. You waited.

And waited.

And waited.

20 minutes later and the water was still barely warm as it ran from the faucet. You sent out a group text to the HOL brothers.

Y/N: Is anyone using the hot water?

Beel: Belphie and I finished cleaning the dishes a while ago but we didn't use that much.

Asmo: Oh Y/N, is the water too cold? I'll come warm you up~~

Mammon: Oi leave my human alone! If anyone's going to warm them up it'll be me!

Satan: You know they're probably naked right? This is their weekly bathing ritual.

You pulled your robe tighter around your body as if any of them could see you.

Y/N: I'm not naked!

Asmo: Darling that's not how you take a bath, but I'd be more than happy to show you how~~

Mammon: Asmo! Don't you dare!

Satan: Oh sure, are you going to run in to save them?

Lucifer: Enough.

Lucifer: Y/N, there's a problem with the water?

Y/N: It's been almost 20 minutes and it's barely lukewarm.

Lucifer: has anyone heard from Levi?

~~

Meanwhile,

The otaku cackled as the water ran cold from his faucet, following along in the group chat. He'd successfully wasted all the hot water. Drafting up a private text outside the chat, he bit his lip and hesitated with his thumb over the "Send." His face was warm, the aquarium tank reflected the reddish hue across his cheeks.

"How are they able to talk about Y/N like that, about being n....nak..." the word died in his throat as he felt his sin stir. Why wasn't he given at least a smidgen of the confidence they had? Why was it so hard for him to be upfront with you, to make a move like he'd seen his brothers do so many times before.

"Henry would do it, he'd have the confidence to go after someone who'd caught his eye. If he can go after them, so can I!" With newfound confidence, Levi sent the message and pushed his chair back to his computer desk and drummed his fingers on the surface.

~~

Over in the bathroom, you were completely unaware of the meltdown the otaku brother was currently going through and followed the chats as they came in. The boys kept talking but you weren't getting any closer to figuring out what happened with your hot water.

And then you noticed a separate text come in.

Levi: the hot water still works in my room

"Unbelievable," you scoffed then snorted in laughter. He had used up all the hot water and now was trying to coax you into taking a bath in his room. You weren't sure where his confidence came from but you weren't about to lose out on your Wednesday night bath time. Tying the bathrobe tighter around you, you gathered your stuff and padded down to his room, knocking before you walked in.

Levi had his hands in his hair, his chair spinning but quickly stopped himself as you entered, his face a bright red. He couldn't look you in the eyes. Sure enough as you neared the tub, it was filled with steaming hot water, just like he knew you liked it. Dropping in a bath bomb, you untied the robe, looking over your shoulder and smirking when you saw he was still watching you.

"I didn't know I'd have an audience, Levi." He yelped and turned his chair to face the desk and buried his face in his hands. He was muttering and all you could make out was "bad idea" and "so stupid." Clicking your tongue behind your teeth, you took out your handheld gaming device to power it on. You untied your robe and let it fall to the ground.

Levi heard the familiar tune of your device turning on and snuck a glance over at you, but snapped back his computer screen. He knew you'd be nude for your bath, but he wasn't expecting to see that much of you; of your legs, the expanse of your back, and the curve of your hips and your ass. He gulped, shifting in his seat as more of him started to wake up. For a moment, he listened to the game music and water rippling around from your movements and mentally debated if he should leave or not. Your eyes caught movement from him, frowning as he got up and headed for his door.

"Wait," you called out and he halted, body frozen but not turning around and not responding. You licked your lips and spoke, voice soft, afraid he'd run away. "I was hoping we could play together." Your request was innocent enough but the words, coming from you, made him flinch.  He slowly turned around, eyes looking everywhere but at the tub, a hand scratching the back of his neck.

"P-play with me?" His mind short-circuited as he assumed you meant you wanted to play with him, in the bathtub, naked. He gulped, mouth going dry. "W-why uh, why would you want to p-play with me? I'm just a gross otaku Y/N, I'm not worth playing with. How could you-"

"Levi," you held up your device, pointing to it, "I meant Pokemon Shield." His lips formed an "o" as the realization struck him and he hung his head, a hand coming up to hide his tomato-red face.

"Y-yeah okay, I can do that," he shuffled back to his desk and opened the game, the light from his monitors casting a glow over his warm skin.

Some time had passed, both of you had collected more pocket monsters and filled out your respective pokedex, made various curry dishes, and spent time playing with each other's mons. Gearing up on supplies, you both decided to go den hopping to catch more powerful and rare mons.

"Hey Levi," your voice called out, shifting in the water to rest your arms over the lip of the tub, you paused the game and tossed your device onto your robe. He hummed in response, eyes still glued to the monitors. "Leeeeeviiii," you called out again, resting your cheek on your arm waiting for him to turn around.

Feeling your stare, he paused his game and turned around, eyes widening to see your shifted posture, your eyes lidded and a soft smile on your lips. "What, ah, what's up?" The way you were looking at him, he felt his pants only tighten in response. He had dreamed to see you look at him with the soft, loving, accepting expression you were currently wearing. He wondered what other facial expressions you could make, just for him. His hands clenched the fabric of his pants on his thighs, but he couldn't take his eyes off your face. You couldn't tell in the dim light of the room but you swore his eyes darkened, the thought making you shiver even though the water was still comfortably warm. You lowered your voice and added a slight husk to sound sultry, testing out a theory.

“Did you use up all the hot water on purpose? To get me to bathe in your room?” Your feet splashed in the water a few times to emphasize your question; a subtle hint but you were watching his reactions. The glow from the monitors highlighted his Adam’s apple bobbing with another gulp and you found yourself smirking. Stretching an arm out in front of you, you beckoned the demon over with a come-hither motion. Whether he knew it or not, Levi actually started making his way over to the tub, kneeling down in front of you, his eyes a darkened amber. He stayed silent, the blush on his cheeks growing more evident giving away his ulterior motive.

“Oh Levi, if you wanted me naked in your room, all you had to do was ask.” Pushing against the floor of the tub, you reached out to plant your lips against his, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling yourself with him as he gasped, jumping back in shock. Not wasting the opportunity, you plunged your tongue into his mouth and moaned against his lips in a silent plead for him to kiss you back. As you brushed your tongue against his, you flicked your tongue against the slit in his own, and he started responding instantaneously.

Your body was laying in an awkward angle and started to slip back into the tub. As you felt yourself being pulled backwards, Levi moved with you, his own hands wrapping around you, fingers dancing around the back of your neck and along your waist. His mouth ravaged your own in a flurry of kisses, his own tongue bypassing yours, thrusting itself right to the back of your throat.

He stuttered your name and you fought to control your breathing. “Y/N are you sure? W-with me?” You responded, nodding feverishly, a lust-induced fog clouded your mind chanting yes over and over. You pulled yourself up to kiss him again and he whined against your lips. “But I’m just a gro-”

“If you call yourself a gross otaku again, I’m going to climb out of this tub and edge you until my three hour bath time is over.” His cheeks burned a bright red, a moan fell from his lips, and he allowed himself to melt into you. You lost your footing in the tub and found yourself slipping down. Levi’s arms wrapped tighter around you as he crawled over you, laying you down in the tub, his clothing soaking up the water. You shivered as his hands grazed your torso, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin making you moan as your own hands worked to remove his shirt. Nipping at your lips, Levi pulled back with a small chuckle.

“If you wanted me naked Y/N, all you had to do was ask.” You stuck your tongue out at him as he teased you with your own words and tossed his shirt off to the side, landing on the floor with a plop and descended back onto your mouth. Raking your nails down his torso, Levi sucked in a breath through his teeth and instinctively ground his hips into yours, his erections evident through his pants. Clutching the waistband of the offending material, your fingers fumbled looking for the clasp, humming in victory as you successfully undid the buttons and zipper. Levi lifted his hips helping you push down his pants as far as you could before taking over and removing his pants the rest of the way, tossing them over near his shirt.

Now that he was hovering over you, fully naked and erect, Levi was starting to have second thoughts and it was evident in the hesitation in his face. Grabbing his hips, you thrust your pelvis against his, your grinding against his and you both moaned from the friction.

“I want this Levi, I want you.” Your words renewed his confidence and he rolled his hips down into yours, drinking in your moans with his lips sealed over yours. With his tongue in your mouth, this time you closed your lips around it and bobbed your head, sucking on his tongue. His eyes flew open in shock to see your eyes hooded, staring back into his. He didn’t even notice your hands until they were wrapped around both of him, sandwiching your own erection between his and started pumping in tandem with your mouth on his tongue.

You drank in his reactions as his eyes rolled back, moans and whines crawled out from his throat, his hips bucking into your hands. Releasing his tongue with a pop, he leaned in to lap at the saliva dripping from your mouth, down your chin, and you littered his throat with love bites, teeth nipping and tongue soothing the skin.

“Y/N, please,” he whined and you slowed your hands, coaxing him to continue, humming against his throat.

“Yes Leviathan?” You asked while pressing kisses along the column of his throat as his voice trembled above you.

“I w-want to, want y-you to, to,” his face was beat red as you pulled away to look at him. He was averting his gaze, seemingly ashamed of what he wanted. Releasing one of your hands, he looked at you with wide eyes, almost worried you were about to reject him but was pleasantly surprised when your hand came up to cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along the tender skin.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Levi? Is that it?” You felt his cocks twitch against yours and you smiled to offer reassurance. “That sounds like a perfectly normal request and I would be more than happy to oblige,” you leaned up to kiss his forehead and he mewled. You had to resist the urge to snort from how adorable it was and instead littered kisses around his face. Your hand moved back down to grip him, your fingers dancing down his entrance but found yourself blocked by, his tail? When had he shifted into his demon form?

Oh. That’s why he looked so embarrassed. Mindful not to tease him about it, you pressed chaste kisses along the skin of his neck as your hands worked his shafts, paying more attention to the gestures and movements that had him reacting more, louder, trying to coax more vocal reactions from the demon. Levi’s arms were losing their grip on the rim of the tub so you ushered him to sit up, shifting positions till he was sitting in your lap. His tail moved to wrap around his erections and he lowered himself. You positioned the tip of your cock against his entrance and looked up at his face to read any signs of hesitation or anything that might tip you off that he didn’t want to do this.

Levi felt your eyes on him and he flashed a smirk, thrusting himself down into your lap, fully sheathing yourself inside of him. You threw your head back at the sudden heat that gripped your length, your hands flying to grip his hips as you muttered a string of curses. He didn’t give you much time to adjust before he started moving, raising his hips till just the tip was inside and thrusted himself back down, eliciting a moan to tear its way from your throat. Your mind went blank as his pace increased, your grunts and moans intertwined as the water splashed about, your fingers dug into his hips and his hands gripping your shoulders to keep him steady.

Your name fell from his lips like a mantra, increasing in pitch as his pace became sporadic and uneven, his grip tightening around you driving you mad as you neared your own orgasm. Moving your arms to the edge of the tub to give you leverage, you rolled your hips up to meet his thrusts. Levi’s body froze as his orgasm crashed through him, his muscles clamping down on you pushing you over the edge, releasing into him and following him into the orgasmic afterglow.

You both fought to catch your breath, Levi reverted back to his human form and your arms wrapped around him, fingers running through his hair and pressing kisses to the side of his head. Slowly, his hands moved to hug you back, accepting your embrace and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. Feeling your breathing and heart beats slow, you hummed and readjusted your positions, flinching when you realized the water was no longer clean.

“We’re probably going to need to take a shower, Levi.”

“Yep.”

You both were reluctant to move but eventually you found yourselves making your way down the halls towards the communal bathroom and hopped into the shower to get cleaned off. Halfway into the shower, Levi pounced causing you to laugh, accepting that it was his turn to take control this time. Before you could get any further, there was a cough from outside the shower and you both froze, watching as Lucifer stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping. Levi’s arms tightened around you, his sin of envy showing itself as a growl rumbled low in his throat.

“Relax, I’m leaving. I was checking on the hot water but it seems to be working fine.” The eldest brother made his way to the door but before leaving and closing the for behind him, Lucifer turned to glare at you both, his crimson eyes glowing with the promise of punishment. “If either of you use up all the hot water again, I swear to Diavolo you will both be sleeping on separate couches for a month.” Lucifer slammed the door and you both settled for a quick shower, faces burning with both embarrassment and unresolved , to avoid that punishment.

[dancerlittle006]

School Days

First things first, I don’t own anything related to Disney or Newsies. Second of all, this is a continuation of my “The Many Adventures of Sammi & Race” series. You may want to read the others in the series but it’s not necessary!  As always, feedback is always appreciated and loved!!!

September 1907

For the last several weeks, Katherine and Jack had talked about how exciting Sammi starting school was going to be. They were trying to hype the girl up but she was nervous. It also didn’t help that they had just welcomed another baby, Elizabeth Marie Kelly into the family and Sammi was very protective of her younger sister. Kat had suggested they get Race and Spot involved but Jack wasn’t ready to engage his brother and brother-in-law just yet.   

“But momma.” She stomped her foot. “Why doesn’t Tommy or Lizzie hafta go?” 

Kat smiled at her daughter. “They’re too young, Sammi. Besides, you’re a big girl and you can tell them how wonderful school will be when it’s their time to go.” 

“But I don’t want to go!” Sammi stomped her foot, just as the phone rang. Katherine took a break from arguing with her daughter to answer it. 

“Hi Race. No you’re not interrupting anything.” She said into the receiver. 

Sammi tuned her mother’s voice out, opting to play with her doll. She heard her mother hang up the phone before looking over her shoulder. “What’s wrong, momma?” 

“Benny isn’t feeling well and Uncle Race was calling about him.” Kat looked at Sammi. “How about we go visit them?” 

She rushed to get her shoes on while Kat put shoes on Tommy and bundled Lizzie up and placed her in the pram. They made their way down the street, heading towards Race and Spot’s brownstone. They soon arrived, Sammi running up the stairs to knock on the door while Tommy lumbered behind his older sister slowly. Katherine smiled at him picking up Lizzie and walking up the stairs just as the front door opened. “Thank God you’re here.” 

Her and the children rushed in behind him, shutting the door before they made their way through the house. Kat could hear Benny crying in his room. “Can I put Lizzie down in the bassinet?” 

Race nodded, ducking down the hallway to Benny’s room. Katherine laid the baby down before looking at Tommy, Sammi, and Ellie. “How about you three play while da and I look after Benny?” 

The kids nodded, loving the impromptu playdate. Katherine made sure they were all set before ducking down the hallway to the little boy’s room. He wasn’t crying as hard as when she first arrived, but was cuddled against Race’s shoulder. “How’s it going?” 

“He’s calmed for now.” Race sighed. “He was fine this morning but now, he’s just miserable, and wants to be held all the time.” 

Holding out her hands for the boy, she smiled as he reached for her. “What’s going on Benny Boo?” 

He whined, burying his head in her shoulder. “He feels warm to me. Have you tried giving him a bath?” 

“No .. . was I supposed to?” Race asked. Despite being a parent for over a year, he was still learning so much about the children. 

Kat chuckled, swaying side to side. “You’re not supposed to do any one particular thing but it may help bring the fever down, if he has one. It might help him feel better. Make the water lukewarm - not too hot.” 

Race nodded. He went to start a bath while Kat undressed the still whining baby. She sushed him and cooed at him before picking him back up, walking to the bathroom. Handing him over to his da, Race gently took off his diaper before putting him in the tub, heart tugging as Benny whined. 

“How did yous get so good at being a mom?” Race asked, as Benny relaxed in the tub. “How do you know what to do?” 

Kat leaned against the doorway, watching Race and Benny. “Well, I’m on my third child. I called my mother so many times during that first year with Sammi. She joked that she might as well move in which Jack quickly put his foot down about. But you learn and you figure things out.” 

Race nodded, taking a sponge and dragging water across Benny’s body, the boy giggling slightly. “Look at how much you’ve learned in the year since you adopted Ellie and Benny. Think of the things that you couldn’t do a year ago but now can do with your eyes closed.” 

Race chuckled, thinking about the first few weeks and months with the 3 year old and the baby. Bottle making, sleepless nights, times all four of them were crying. “You’re right. And Is sure we’ll continue to learn.” 

“You will.” Kat smiled, holding out a towel for Race to put Benny in. “Now I need your help.” 

Race transferred the wet baby to Kat’s awaiting arms before cleaning up the mess. “Anything, name your wish.” 

“I need you to talk with Sammi about school.” Kat sighed, laying the baby on the floor and putting a fresh diaper on him before picking him up once more before he could fuss. “She is adamant she doesn’t want to go.” 

Race smiled, walking towards Benny’s room, Kat trailing behind him. “Of course, absolutely. I thought she was excited to go.” 

“She was excited but since Lizzie was born, she doesn’t want to leave her sister behind. She keeps making up excuses.” Kat sighed. “Jack keeps telling me that she’ll get excited as it gets closer but we’re a week out and she doesn’t even want to talk about it.” 

He nodded, giving his sister a side hug. “I’ll talk to her in a little bit. Let’s get this little man taken care of. If you’ll give him a bottle, Is talk with Sammi.” 

She nodded, dressing him in a sleeper as Race went and made a bottle before returning, handing it over to Kat with a grin. He watched them for a minute before walking into the living room. Tommy, Sammi and Ellie all played with the trucks, blocks, and dolls scattered around them. “Sammi, can Is talk to you for a minute?”

She glanced at her uncle before walking over to where he sat on the couch. She climbed up and leaned against him. “Hi Uncle Race. Is Benny okay?” 

“He will be. Your mom is feeding him a bottle right now.” Race pulled Sammi onto his lap. “Are you ready for school?” 

Sammi laid her head on his shoulder, shaking her head. “Is not going to school. Is staying with mom, Tom, and Lizzie.” 

“But yous have to go to school. Yous don’t want mom and dad to go to jail, do you?” Race’s eyes went wide as the little girl giggled. 

Sammi giggled at how silly her uncle was. “Theys not gonna go to jail.” 

“Theys might if you don’t go to school.” Race chuckled. “Yous gonna have so much fun and Miss Hill is going to be a wonderful teacher and yous gonna learn so much. Yous might be smarter than your momma one day.” 

Sammi’s eyes went wide at her uncle’s statement. “Is not smarter than momma.” 

“Not now yous aren’t but one day yous might be.” He nodded, leaning close to his niece. “Besides, for someone who didn’t go to school, you can tell me all about it and maybe Is can learn with you.” 

She nodded, giving him a grin. “Okays, Is go to school.” 

Katherine came out of the hallway hearing her daughter’s proclamation with a grin. “You’re going to school, Samantha Anne?” 

“Yes momma! Uncle Race told me Is havta.” Sammi grinned at her mother as Katherine sat beside her. 

Kat shot Race an appreciative grin before looking at her daughter. “I’m so happy to hear that. You’re going to have a great time in school.” 

“Can I go play now?” Sammi asked, looking between her mother and uncle. 

Rave nodded, watching the little girl jump off the couch to go play with her cousin and brother.  Kat looked at Race with a grin. “Thank you for whatever you said to her. I love you and appreciate you more than you’ll ever know.” 

“Is told her that she’d be smarter than yous one day.” Race shrugged. “It seemed to work - she warmed up to the idea of school pretty quickly after that.” 

She clapped quietly. “Well I appreciate it regardless of what you said. And I hope she is smarter than me one day.” 

The front door opened and shut with a quiet bang as Spot walked in with a grin. “Kat! This is a surprise.” 

“When your husband calls up frantically due to your son being sick, a visit is a must.” Kat gave her friend a grin. “Benny’s sleeping and has a slight fever.” 

Spot gave Race a look before kissing him. “Calling up Kat when our son is sick?” 

“It was in a moment of panic and I didn’t know what to do. He was crying and Ellie was tugging at me.” He kissed Spot once more, dropping his voice to a whisper. “I really had her come over so Ellie would have someone to play with.” 

Katherine scoffed, shaking her head at the two of them. “You two are ridiculous.” 

“But you love us regardless of that.” Spot grinned, looking over at the three kids playing. 

Race raised an eyebrow. “I actually solved a problem of hers.” He said blowing on his nails, polishing them against his shirt. “Sammi has been in a state of denial about attending school and Uncle Race to the rescue and now she’s all excited.” 

Spot shook his head at his husband. “Of course all it took is one conversation with Uncle Race and suddenly it’s okay.” Giving Kat a look, “Haven’t you learned that trick yet?” 

“Yea, yea she loves you two more than she loves me and Jack.” Kat rolled her eyes at her daughter’s love of her uncles, actually all of her children’s love of their uncles. 

A Week Later

Flanked by her parents and Uncle Race, Sammi skipped on her way to school. She was giggling as Jack skipping alongside her. Kat and Race were walking arm in arm, shaking their heads at the two’s antics. 

Stopping in front of the school, Jack picked up Sammi, both of them looking at the big building in front of them. “Yous doing okay, Sammi?” 

“Uh huh.” She put her hand to her lip, eyes big at the building. “Its big, daddy.” 

“It is but you’re going to have a great day and learn lots.” Jack whispered as Kat and Race caught up to them. “Yous ready to go in?” 

She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Race. “Yous come too?” 

“You think Is walked all this way and not comin’ in with you, Sammi?” Race grinned. “Yous crazy, silly girl. Let’s go.” 

They walked into the building, following other parents for the first day. They quickly found Miss Hill’s classroom before Jack put Sammi down. She clutched his hand as they walked into the classroom. The classroom was loud with kids playing and parents talking to one another. Race dropped to his knee and looked at Sammi. “This room looks like it’s so much fun. You’re going to have a great day here.” 

Kat and Jack both looked around the room, picking out Sammi’s teacher who was talking to another parent. “Shall we look for your desk, Sammi?” 

She held her hand out for Kat and Jack to take before walking deeper into the classroom. They looked at the clusters of desks before Jack pointed towards a cluster in the back corner. “I think I see a Samantha Kelly desk over there.” 

They made their way over to the desk, Sammi lighting up when she recognized her name taped to the desk. “Look momma!” 

“I see baby. It says Samantha.” Kat crouched down, grinning at Sammi. 

Jack joined his wife crouching down, dropping his voice to a whisper. “It looks like the BEST desk in the room to me.” 

Sammi giggled, just as Miss Hill came over to greet Sammi. “Hi Samantha, I’m so excited to have you in my class this year. Who did you bring with you today?” 

“Hi Miss Hill.” Sammi smiled brightly. “This is my momma, daddy, and Uncle Race.” 

Miss Hill looked at the three adults with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you. We’ll be beginning class in a few minutes. Sammi, say your goodbyes and sit down at your desk when you’re ready.” 

Miss Hill left them alone as Sammi looked at the ground. “Do yous have to go?” 

“Afraid so, darlin’.” Kat smiled. “But you’re going to have so much fun and we’ll meet you outside after school, okay?” 

Sammi nodded, shuffling over to give Kat a hug before looking at her dad. “I love yous daddy.” 

“I love you too Samantha Anne.” Jack kissed her forehead. “Yous gonna do great things, darlin’. Have a great day of school and I’ll see you later.” 

She nodded, walking over to Uncle Race. “Yous be here after school?” 

“Yes, I will Sammi. I love you girlie. Have a great day at school and Is can’t wait to hear alls about it.” Race kissed her forehead, standing up and waving goodbye before he followed Kat and Jack out of the classroom. 

The three stood by the doorway as Sammi took her seat. She peaked up when another girl sat beside her, the two girls quickly talking to one another. Kat looked at the two men beside her with a grin. “Your girl will be just fine. It looks like she’s made a friend already. Let’s go before she sees us.” 

“But what if she . . .” Jack and Race both started, before Kat took their hands and led them from the doorway. 

Shaking her head, Kat grinned. “She will be fine. She’s a Kelly and with as much confidence and sass as that girl has, she’ll be just fine.” 

Walking out of the school, Kat sighed listening to Jack and Race come up with excuses on why they should hang around the school, “just in case” Sammi needed them. “Mark my words, Higgins and Kelly, she will be just fine and she’ll be even more excited about going back tomorrow.” 

3:00pm

The three had parted ways earlier that morning, Kat and Jack headed to The World while Race headed to the hotel to work his shift. They had gathered in front of the school, chatting quietly while they waited for the bell to ring.  It rang before children streamed out of every available door. “Do you see her yet?” 

Kat looked at Jack before shaking her head. Race grinned, pointing her out. “There she is.” 

Sammi raced over to where they sat, flying into Jack’s arms with a grin. “How was your day?” 

“IT WAS AMAZING!” She yelled, jumping up and down with a grin. “Is learned my ABCs!” 

Kat and Race fussed over Sammi with a grin while Jack hugged her close. “I’m so glad you had a great day, Sammi.” 

“Shall we go celebrate?” Kat asked, giving the three of them a big smile. “I think I hear the newly done schoolgirl loves ice cream?” 

Sammi’s eyes widened as she nodded her head. “Is LOVE ice cream.” 

“Shall we go get some?” Jack asked, picking her up in his arms before lacing his fingers with Kat. “Yous in Uncle Race?” 

Race grinned, nodding. “Of course, I am. Let’s go!” 

The four of them set off down the street, heading towards Jacobi’s for celebratory ice cream for Sammi’s first day of school. 

What did you think? Feedback and comments are always welcomed! 

[meat-husband]

I saw your post on an //o w severe anxiety and i was wondering if you can do that but when the slashers are not home (separately) and they come home to them during/after an anxiety attack (Bonus if you do one were the s/o heard them come in and pretend sleep but the slasher knows they are not sleeping)

Bluh idk why this one was so hard to do, but here you go.

Michael

He can tell right away that something is off, since you’re not where you usually are at this time of the day. He’ll go from room to room, looking for you, until the only place left to check is the bedroom.

You’re under the covers, tucked in and with eyes closed, but it’s obvious by your heavy breathing and sniffles that you’re still awake. He waits in the doorway for a moment, seeing if you’ll give up pretending.

Once he realizes you’re going to keep on faking sleep, he’ll slowly climb into bed with you. He’s not great at comfort, but this is probably the one time he’s not so bad at it. He’ll lay a heavy arm over your side, breathing softly into your hair, but don’t be fooled - this is not cuddling. He doesn’t cuddle.

As long as you keep up pretending to sleep, he’ll stay curled around you, until you actually do drift off. His hold is a little awkward, but it’s sort of adorable to see him trying to do something nice.

The moment you wake up, though, his hands are firmly back on his side of the bed. If you’re still feeling bad, he may be kind enough to pour you a sloppy bowl of cereal or bring you a blanket to lay down on the couch with, but that’s tapping out his sympathy for the rest of the year.

Brahms

He’s gotten used to sleeping at odd times, so when he wakes up in the middle of the afternoon unable to find you, he’s furious at first. You’ll probably hear him before he finds you, stomping through the house and screaming. It doesn’t do much to calm you, so you’re more of mess by the time he gets there.

He will feel guilty immediately. He’s watched you for a long time at this point, so it’s likely he knows if this has happened before and he’ll realize he’s just made you worse. He’s a brat, but he doesn’t want to actually cause you distress.

He’ll approach you quietly, whispering and murmuring, kneeling down to crawl towards you. Rather than holding you, he’ll put his head in your lap, pressing the face of his mask against your thighs and stomach, letting you pet his hair.

Wherever you happen to be, floor, bed, couch, he’ll just lay there and cling to you. It’s as much for your comfort as his own, because he will have the fear that this panic was caused by him and you will want to get away from him.

Bubba

He rarely leaves the house, and coming back in to find you in such a mess is going to upset him a lot. It doesn’t matter where he went or how far, even stepping onto the porch is going to make him anxious now if you aren’t with him.

If you’re crying, panicked or anxious, so is he. He’s not much help when he’s crying too, but he’ll take you upstairs where you can cuddle up and wait it out.

It does not matter how hot or stuffy it is, you’re both in bed and under the covers immediately. He’ll kick off the blankets when you start sweating, but it feels safer to be under them.

You’re going to wake up in the middle of the night, having missed dinner, but it’s hard not to fall asleep when you’re in bed and cuddled up. Bubba will be a little cautious afterwards, checking up on you often until he’s sure you’re no longer upset, but he’ll be extra sensitive to your moods for a while.

Thomas

Coming back in from an outing with Hoyt, he’s going to be alarmed at the state you’re in when he returns, sitting on the back porch with your head in your hands and gasping for air. He’ll think you’re hurt at first, looking you over and whining under his breath in dismay.

You can try to explain it all you like, you’re crying so that clearly means you’re hurt. He’ll take you to Mama, looking to get you patched up, and she’ll give him some simple instructions for taking care of you to ease his worry, like running a bath or a glass of cold tea. He’ll probably do both, just to make sure, so enjoy your lukewarm bath water and tea combo.

He’s not going to let go of you until it’s over, whether he’s holding you in a hug or just grasping your hand. He’ll give you space if you ask for it, but otherwise he’s gonna hover over you.

This is the one time he’ll take you downstairs to the basement rather than to your room, because the basement feels safer to him. It’s dark and cool and quiet, so it’s not a bad place to wait out a panic attack, if you don’t mind the smell.

It’s honestly super helpful to have him around, because you focus so much on calming him down that your own panic washes away. You’ll be the one reassuring him by the end of it, pulling yourself together quicker to make sure he’s okay.

Jason

Coming home to find you so upset is going to put him on edge, looking around for whatever or whoever has you in tears. You just want to crawl into his lap and cry, but he’s adamant about looking the place over before tending to you.

It will take a few tries before you’re able to explain that there’s nothing physically wrong. He won’t quite understand the concept of anxiety or panic attacks, but he’ll figure that his absence was a part of the problem - you wouldn’t have been so afraid if he had been here to protect you.

Even if he doesn’t really get it, he’s great at caring for you. Hugs, cuddles, food, whatever you need is yours. He will bundle you up in his lap, encouraging you to tell him what’s wrong, what you need him to do to feel better, and rubbing your back to help steady your breathing.

He will still keep his weapon on hand, just in case. You can tell him that it’s unnecessary, but he’s going to be on the safe side.

He’ll stick close to you for the next few days, and make an effort to stay out in the woods for less time in a single go. If this is a recurring problem then he will figure out a routine that keeps him at home as often as possible, maybe going out only once or twice while you’re asleep. He’s still got to guard the grounds, but he can’t leave knowing you need him around.

[maggyme13]

Why Licking? (3/?)

AN: Hello again :) It seems you like what I write, thank you for sticking with this story ^^

Wordcount: around 2200

Warnings: the usual: angst, licking (non sexual way), an orc get mauled,

Why Licking-Masterlist

Masterlist

Part 2:

You were alone beneath the furs when you woke up from your slumber. Your muscles were stiff, and your neck hurt like hell. Even breathing hurt and you did not want to test swallowing. Another gush of fluids left your body when you sat up, the white fur that had been covering you pressed against your chest. A groan left your throat, sending pain through she fresh wound, and had to close your eyes for a second to find your bearings before opening them again and looking around the room to find your captor.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

Getting more and more aware of your surroundings, a strange scent entered your nose and mixed with the scent of the dried sweat on your body you felt the urge to wash your body, no matter what it takes.

I need a bath. I feel filthy.

Pulling the fur around your body, you slowly stood up on weak legs before slowly making your way to the basin in the floor, hoping there was still water in there.

And you were lucky- there was water and it was still lukewarm.

Grabbing the soap that laid on the edge, you slipped into the water and quickly washed the remainders of the previous night away. The pinkish hue that appeared from between your legs didn’t go unnoticed by you.

I am going to be sick. What will happen now?

Like the male was able to hear you thoughts, the door opened and he stepped inside followed by another orc whom was carrying a tablet with food.

His cold blue eyes found you at once and he motioned for you to get out of the water and to him. Not wanting to anger him, you followed his request: with your eyes trained on the foreign orc, you returned to the edge of the basin and pulled the fur to your chest, before climbing out of the water.

Pulling the fur around your body (so you did not flash the other orc something), you followed the second part of his request. The water was dripping down your skin and into the white fur. The closer you came, the quicker your eyes moved from your captor to the servant and back; not knowing what to think. Noticing your discomfort, the pale or barked something in his dark tongue and the servant left in such a hurry he ran into the door before it had opened it fully on its own.

You had stopped walking when the thud of the orc hitting the wooden door had reached your ears, though you quickly took up your pace when your captor let out a deep growl from his chest.

With your skin (and now the fur) wet, the cooler air made your body to shiver from the freezing.

“You are cold. Come. Eat.”

Pulling the fur closer around your body (hoping to get warmer), you stopped in front of the orc, shivering and with non-understanding in your eyes.

“Sit. Eat.”, he growled. Pointing first to the chair, then the bowl with food and then you, making you understand. You did as he had ordered and started eating the warm broth and fresh bread (all the while trying to ignore the pain the swallowing caused), your eyes following the male orcs movements.

Satisfied you were following his demands, the male walked to the area he had left his armour the evening prior and opened a chest before grabbing something out of it and closing the lid at once. I was some kind of fabric.

Is that a shirt?

“ Finished? Wear this.”, He rumbled, throwing the fabric at you and you guessed he wanted you to wear it.

Unfolding the fabric, you noticed it was indeed a big shirt made of an thick and robust fabric; big enough to fit your captor easily.

That’s more than a dress than anything else.

Letting out a sigh, you let the fur slip down your body (though you tried to dry yourself up doing so), before pulling it over your head slipping your arms through the holes. Like anticipated, it was far too big and you had to roll up the sleeves almost half to be able to use your hands. The hem reached down to your knees.

Immediately you felt warmth spread and your shivers subdued within seconds.

A grunt caught your attention and you turned your attention back to the pale giant of an orc: His eyes lingered on your covered body and a feral grin spread across his face, revealing his sharp teeth and canines. With another nod, the male motioned for you to get to him. His arms were crossed over his muscular (and naked) chest. Waiting- Anticipation in his eyes.

Taking a few steps, you stopped half an arms-length away from him and you jerked together, when he reached for you, though you quickly forced your body to remain still while his fingers brushed from the side of your neck and throat and onto the bite he had marked you with the night prior. A hiss of pain left your throat upon his rough fingers onto your sensible flesh.

That noise had made his movements stopped at once, closing the distance between the two of you with one movement, all the while tilting your head to the side to give him better access to your neck and the mark.

What is he going to do?

Leaning down, he breathed in your scent, his nose brushing over your skin, stopping right above the fresh wound.

“I will make the pain stop.”, the male hummed and not a second later you felt his raspy tongue lick over the wound.

Over and over again, until the pain was no more and a relieved sigh left your chest.

“Thank you.”, you mumbled and waited for the male to stop, but he did not for a while: Sucking and nibbling, he marked you further and further with little hickeys.

Minutes went by like that before the orc stepped back (but not after one last lick), and his hand moved from your head to your back.

“I have to command. You will join me. My mark showing whom you belong to.”, your captor mumbled, already pulling you along towards the door of your ´cell´.

Knowing he wanted you to follow, you walked alongside the giant and noticed he took the same way as the evening prior. He was guiding her back to the great cave.

Fear about having to face so many orcs again pulsed through your veins and you hugged the fabric closer around your body- suddenly very aware of the lack of undergarments.

“You are mine. Not one of my orcs will harm you!”, the leader stated in his tongue.

Entering the huge cave, you saw it was buzzling with life (though a lot less than the last time). Instinctively your body moved closer to your captor: in a cave full of unknown orcs and danger, being close to him was the saved place. And with the way the other orcs scurried away from the giant, proofed you right in your assumption.

Casting your eyes downwards to the floor, you missed the curious and confused glances some of the orcs send towards you; for you were still alive, (for orcish standards) unharmed and marked (though only some were able to see the mark as what it was and not as a mere wound).

The cave had fallen quiet and with your arrival, causing your uneasiness to grow with every passing second.

What are they waiting for? Why are they so quiet?

With fearful eyes you looked at your captor, who walked – no strode- a small step ahead of you, his posture strong, proud and – daring?

With your eyes trained on Azog, you hadn’t noticed the something that were laying in your path and so you stumbled, lost your footing and fell to the ground onto all fours. Unlucky as you were, did the landing cause the shirt you wore to rile up, for a few lucky (or unlucky) orcs to see parts of your bare ass and more private area. At first you did not notice that, the surprise and pain of the fall distracting your mind. That changed when you felt the fabric being dragged up even more- exposing your whole lower regions.

A startled shriek of surprise left your throat and within a split second you had turned around and pulled the cloth down. Your heartbeat and breathing skyrocketed with the panic now running through your veins. Those feelings intensified even more, when your eyes caught the pupils of an small orc who had a piece of the cloth still in his hands with blown with lust. The grin he send at you were sinister and showed a row of uneven but sharp teeth.

Please!

Tears gathered in your eyes and a fearful hiccup shock your body when you saw the orc step even closer. But you had no reason to fear, within a second your assailant was lifted into the air by its head (yes HEAD!), and you knew it was Azog who did so, without following the arm to the rest of the body.

His deep and very angry growling echoed from the walls of the enormous cave, causing your body to shiver in pure fear, even though you knew his aggression was not directed at you but the orc hanging in the air.

“(y/n)”, the great orc rumbled, catching your attention. You looked up : His eyes burned with anger and hate, though they softened when they locked with yours, ever so slightly, “ Go and sit were you did yesterday.”

You could not understand what he wanted of you exactly, but when he nodded towards the pile of furs and pillows you had occupied after your arrival, you understood and nodded.

Slowly stumbling back to your feet, you made your way towards that location; the sea of orcs parting in front of you.

At your destination, you sat down on the exact same spot, sticking your feet (and shirt) beneath your body, hoping it would make you feel saver and more comfortable.

A few moments later, your captor joined you, standing around two metres to your left with the orc still struggling in his grip.

What is he planning?

A little lost in your thoughts, you jerked together when a high pitched whistle startled you and whatever that sound meant, you knew it was nothing good, because the restrained orc trash and screech even more in his masters angry grip. But to no awail.

Dark hissing accompanied the flicker of the wrist that let the small orc fly through the air and onto the floor. Pleading sounding grunts and screeches could be heard from the ´bad´ orc, thoughit died down when the sound of claws hitting stone joined the echoes that were already dancing through the cave. Defeat mirrored in its features; the shoulders and head hanging low.

What´s that sound? What is coming?

Your question was answered, when your assailant jumped at you- clawy hands and teeth ready to rip you apart. Though before he could reach you, a white blur jumped in front of you and painful screaming filled the air.

Azog´s Warg.Azogs Warg!

Stepping away from you, the beast jerked its head around and your eyes caught the sign of flying limps and blood.

Contempt with its new place, the warg laid down. Its back turned towards you, all the while continuing to bite gnaw on the still living orc.

“(y/n)”, the pale orc spoke next to you and only now did you notice he had joined you.

“Y-yes?”, you whispered surprised and startled he had used your name once more.

But he did not answer, only motioned at the area right in front of him

And you understood he wanted you to sit in between his legs again, just like he had made you the evening prior.

Carefully, not wanting to flash anymore, you crossed the small distance and took the appointed place. At once, his whole arm snaked around your body, his hand resting onto the fabric right above the mount of your legs, efficiently securing the shirt to your body. It has nothing sexual and was only protective gesture- a shielding one.

The male had not bothered to put on his armour and so your back was pressed against his strong chest.

His white Warg still laying in front of the ´throne´, biting on its orc. Slowly the cave returned to its usual ways and the day happened just like it would every other day. The only difference: You were there, and the Orc leader had something to ´play´ with during that time and you hoped he would wait until you were back in his cave before he would take you again. Not that you wanted him to do so in the first place.

Part 4

AN: So waht do you think? what is his real motive for taking the Reader with him?

:P

Thanks for reading and please leave a comment ^^

~MaggYme

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Permanent:

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Tolkien: not yet existing :(

[doom-dreaming]

“Fallen Gods”

FUCKIN NOVELIST ANON AT IT AGAIN KILLING ME SOFTLY ENJOY THIS WHILE I SPEND THE NIGHT WRITING revenge for this. when will they stop? will they ever stop? do i want them to stop? ...no

(again, i formatted paragraphs and stuff) IT’S SO LONG OH MY GOD HOW ARE YOU WRITING ALL OF THIS SO FAST IT’S INSANE AND I LOVE YOU PLEASE LET ME LOVE YOU

It’s been three days since you’ve seen the twins. Not that it worries you; they told you they were leading a raid personally, for the faithful. They gifted you an ECHO to watch while they were gone. You were allowed to watch the holy broadcast yesterday and see the full fury of the God Queen raining fire and pain on her enemies. You were able to watch Troy in his most vicious fury tearing the non-believers limb from limb with teeth and metal and the searing burn of his stolen siren powers. No one needed to know you touched yourself as you watched, all too aware of how those powerful hands and teeth felt in fits of passion.

But that was yesterday. Today you knelt, waiting eagerly in the bed for their return. You could hear the cheers of their victorious return below, and knew that after some celebration they would return. Maybe they would still be riding high on the bloodlust when they entered and you could look forward to a long night of pleasant pain; sacrificing your flesh to Troy’s hunger and being rewarded and healed by Tyreen’s nimble fingers and tongue. Maybe they would be tired from their conquest and you would be treated to a quieter time, laying your head to be petted on Troy’s thigh while he worked, or nuzzling into the back of Tyreen’s neck while you served as her blanket after working the kinks out of her shoulders.

But the cheers kept moving. They didn’t stop in the grand arena for celebration, instead you could hear them moving up the stairs of the cathedral and right up to the door. Once again the doors were thrown open, the Twin gods standing tall and victorious. The followers were dismissed, and Tyreen pulled the massive doors shut. The slam of the metal bar locking you all in rang of finality.

Troy crumpled.

You shot from your place on the bed but the chain and collar nearly knocked you out, cutting your movement as effectively as a wall before you could reach him. Tyreen was already at his side, shaking him until she received a hoarse acknowledgment. Her eyes shot to you. She reached her hand out, tattoos flaring a blinding white. You felt the heat in your collar before it clattered to the ground. She spoke two words you never expected to hear from the God Queen. “Help me.” It was commanding and determined as ever, but the desperation killed what power her voice normally carried. As always, you obeyed without hesitation.

Troy was heavier than you ever remembered. Even when the full weight of his body and teeth bore down on you, grinding you into the floor, he had never felt so heavy as he did being dragged by the two of you to the bed. You didn’t like how things made sense now; if the bed had not been set into the floor there was now way the two of you could have gotten him into it, let alone Tyreen by herself. Troy rolled over, coughing, and you knew the bloodstains on the pillow that preceded your arrival were not from earlier sacrifices.

Tyreen was already flitting around the room.  “Get his arm off.”

While you flipped open the red skull symbol and worked the complex latches that disengaged the limb from within, Tyreen was already on the ECHO demanding that baths be brought up for the gods, “One hot and one cold, as the ritual demands.” It was too practiced, too common. You could feel unnatural heat rising from Troy’s bare skin. Sweat beads left streaks in the dust on his face.

“Strip him.”

The command was easier without the weight of his arm. He rolled with you, doing his best to help, but the uncontrolled, weak movements of his limbs made it harder rather than easier. You tried not to notice how his siren tattoos had faded, looking more like burns and scabs than the gleaming markings they had been when he left.

Tyreen had opened the door just enough to allow for the two slabbed together metal tubs. Skin and Graft, two priests who had sacrificed their eyes in devotion, rolled in the welded sheetmetal tubs and scurried out as they were dismissed. Again the door slammed and was barred. The room went silent save the crackling of the small fire that heated one of the tubs. Tyreen was by your side again, bearing half of the disturbingly reduced weight as you both hoisted him into the cold tub. The dust and grime that immediately spread from him over the surface of the water left his skin lighter; a sick sandy yellow so wrong compared with his usual rich, earthy ochre. Tyreen allowed him to submerge completely for a moment, then hoisted him back into a sitting position. He sighed, and you watched what little energy he had melt as he let the water and the angled tub carry his weight.

Tyreen was staring at you. Your concern made you bold; you met her gaze and knew she was no longer really looking at you. She was weighing choices, making decisions that would guide your fate. She took a deep breath and her eyes closed, her shoulders drooped as if shedding the weight of leadership. “Watch him, make sure he doesn’t drown.” She tried to sound dismissive of the possibility, but you heard the fear. She drew a dagger from her belt, handing it to you. “Feed him. Time to see if we were right about you.” You couldn’t tell if she she meant to address you or not, but as soon as you accepted the blade she fled the room. 

Alone with him. Alone with the crackle of the fire in an unused tub and the shallow, pained breathing of a fallen god. Climbing into the tub was the only thing you could think of. You expected the cold of the water to sting, but it was already lukewarm. There was enough room for you get in beside him on the armless side. He leaned into your arms as you settled, resting his head against your shoulder. You knew the druglike tingle of his teeth piercing your flesh, but the bite of the blade was achingly cold by comparison; still, you did it for him, and offered the wound to him. His lips were soft against your skin, tender as he suckled at your offering. It felt like hours before he managed to raise his arm, gripping your wrist to hold you in place as he drank more forcefully. Even that little bit of strength was comforting. 

Tyreen’s hurried stride brought her back into the room, to the tub-side. In her hands: two bars of glowing, compressed Eridium. You recognized them from your time in the mines, a fading memory of another lifetime. Her Siren tattoos were pulsating, reacting to the energy from the mineral until she slipped the two bars into the water with you. Deja vu. A familiar warmth just under your skin. The feeling that emanated from the mine walls practically vibrating around and through you.

Troy’s teeth sinking into your arm with sudden vigor brought you back into the present. Tyreen let out a strangled laugh that might have been a sob. She hid her face before you could catch her, and she made an overcompensating show of being regal as she stripped and retired to her own warm tub. But you knew your masters well, and you caught the glint of tears on her cheeks before she sank into the water to hide them.

A much softer goddess stood in the moonlight, lounging against the balcony railing as she surveyed her kingdom. Troy was tucked into the bed, the warm dusk returned to his skin and his breathing strong and even as he slept. It was almost cute the way his split jaw lay crooked, not quite fitted back together correctly while he drooled on the pillow. Only the smeared blood on his face and a small strip of your own flesh between his teeth stole some of that innocence.

But your eyes stayed on Tyreen. Again concern had made you bold, and they had yet to replace your collar; you walked to her side, joining her against the railing and placing a comforting hand at the small of her back. She allowed it.

“It’s…it’s a bad day.” She sounded so tired… but the words continued. “We’ve been lucky, for a while. There hasn’t been one since you got here. But he burned himself out. At the battle.” Her voice cracked. She took a gulp of air before continuing. “He’s always been sick, like something is eating him from the inside. We’ve been able to fend it off with the life we harvest from the sacrifices, but there are still bad days. Getting a Siren always made it better, lasted longer, but only for a while. And there are only so many Sirens- we even tried Eriduim, but he can’t use it, can’t process it even if he eats it.”

She cut off what had become a nervous, hurried flood of words. Her eyes stayed focused outward, seeming to focus on the burning trashcans that served as lanterns below. Silence reigned for long minutes, and Tyreen picked absently at rust spot on the rail. After too long, she spoke again. “We were looking for someone like you. People who didn’t get sick in the mines. People who just,” she made a hand gesture of pulling something together, “whoof, suck it up like a sponge. We thought maybe, just maybe, that would get stored.” She chuckled, but it corroded into a hiccuping sob. “Looks like we were right.” Her teeth dug into her lip to bite it back, but another sob escaped anyway. And another.

You stayed silent as your goddess fell apart… but not motionless. She didn’t fight as you pulled her into your arms. She let you pet her still drying hair as she had done for you so many times while drifting to sleep. You held her as she wept until her tears ran dry and her strength failed her. Even when you retired to the bed she clung to you, long beyond sleep, with one hand on her brother’s arm.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Vanilla Sky prt 48 full draft

Shoving his way out the observation room, Keith was running. The stupid hall looped around, meaning other than breaking through the glass there was no way he could get to Lance as fast he wanted to. The moment Lance had begun to sink down, Keith was pushing Shiro out the way to get to his boyfriend. Shiro who was still in shock over what he'd heard. His adoptive brother breaking down into silent tears when Lance had thrown being raped back into Kre'el's face. The absolutely gutted expression in Shiro's face had been something Keith never wanted to see again. No doubt so much more made sense in Shiro's mind now. Lance's aversion to the Galra beyond weariness of strangers. The things he'd said about what Allura had done to his body... But Keith couldn't care about any of that. Not when Lance crumbled in on himself. He'd tried to fight Shiro to let him go the first time Lance had stood up, yet let himself be reassured that Lance was strong enough to do this. The second time he'd tried to bolt was Lance sat back down, the third when Lance begged Kre'el not to talk about the positive test. Shiro had no idea... but the words cut through Keith's heart. Soft growls coming from the back of his throat as he was forced not intervene. He hated being on the wrong side of glass. He hated that the didn't care that Kre'el's arm literally tore off before their eyes. He hated her stupid backstory, and the way it make him hurt.

 Rounding the corridor, Veronica was startled as Keith didn't slow, slamming his hand down on the hand pad and rushing into the room to his crying lover. Gathering Lance up in his arms, his boyfriend was limp. His eyes red rimmed as he stared past Keith's face. Tapping his face, Lance didn't rouse, his scent overwhelming Keith's rationality as he hurled him up with him as he rose to stand. He didn't know what would have been better for his Lance to hear, but he knew his boyfriend had shut down because he was trying to process everything he'd been told. Kre'el had developed feelings of friendship for Lance and tried to push him away, only to fail, or for her to have simply hated Lance all along and it'd been a lie. She must have been beyond desperate to turn around and try to kidnap both of them on that ship. Or had that been an act for Lasandi's benefit? What would have happened if Lance hadn't interfered with the wormhole? And where was this new home? They were supposed to be the last of them, her and Lasandi? Or was this another lie of hers? Another misdirection in her scheme? It wasn't like she could go anywhere.

 Medical staff were shuffling into the room as Keith tried to carry Lance out. Lance felt frozen in his arms, Shiro and Veronica were waiting outside the space, Veronica being scolded by a very worried Shiro. Turning to him both stared at Lance, Veronica's face morphing into something akin to fear

"What happened!?"

"I think it's a panic attack. I'm taking him back to my room"

"I'll help..."

Veronica might be Lance's sister, but his instincts were going crazy. Growling at her he exposed his sharpened teeth and slightly yellowed eyes, as he hiked Lance up in hold

"I know you're his sister. I know you want to help him, but he doesn't need it. He's an adult. He's not your baby brother, but a fucking bounty hunter. He's not the same little kid. He doesn't need you coddling him. He doesn't need your help. I've got him. If you want to help, make sure that bitch doesn't die before I get my hands on her"

  Lance's body temperature continued to fall as Keith carried him back to his room. The Telula was too far, and Lance was clearly in shock. Getting him into the bathroom, Keith settled Lance down in the tub, cautious as he started undressing his lover. Water and being touched... Lance feared both and he didn't want to push him over into snapping with no control over his "fight or flight" instincts. Starting with his boots, he worked his way up, talking to Lance the whole time to let him know it was him. Lance continuing to stare past him, the occasional tear rolling down his cheek.

 Pouring in a generous douse of bubble bath that Lance's mother had bought for them on Earth, Keith started the taps, slowly warming the temperature until it was on the warm side of lukewarm. Lance still shaking too much for his liking. Cursing softly, Keith struggled his way out his boots, throwing them and his communicator across room toward the door, before moving Lance forwards to climb into the tub behind him. Sliding down, the half-Galra positioned his husband so Lance was laying along him, forehead tucked protectively just under his chin as he hushed his boyfriend gently, his features losing their Galra twinge the longer he held Lance. He really needed to stop swapping between the boyfriend and husband in his head. They'd agreed on boyfriend's while they worked this out, and this was definitely not worked out or something their friends needed to know in further detail.

  A varga or so passed before Keith was happy with Lance's body temper. His eyes had slid closed and he seemed to be sleeping off the strange panic attack. Nearly asleep himself, the knock that landed on the bathroom door jostled him back away. A growl on his lips as he held Lance tighter

"What?!"

"It's Shiro. Do you need help? You've been in there a while now"

He didn't want Shiro in there. Lance wouldn't want Shiro in there, but he didn't know what had happened in his boyfriend's mind. Sure, Lance could get spacey, but this was like super spacey. He didn't know what the best way to handle this was or if it was normal for Lance to sleep this off. Or if it was safe for him to sleep it off. Making sure Lance's modesty was covered, Keith kissed his boyfriend hair

"Come in... he's sleeping"

 Dried tear tracks remained on Shiro's face. His white hair a tussled mess, adding to his washed out appearance

"How... how is he?"

"Sleeping. I've never seen him like this before. That wasn't a usual panic attack. I don't know what to do"

"Is his breathing and his pulse rate regular?"

Placing his fingers on Lance's neck, he felt for his pulse

"It's a little fast. He's breathing normally"

"Then he's probably sleeping the attack off... I'll get you a towel for him. I doubt he wants me touching him"

This is what Lance feared. Everyone treating him differently

"No, but Shiro. You can't... you can't blame yourself and you can't treat him any differently. He's so fucking scared of you all finding out. He doesn't want to be treated any differently. Coran's helping him find a therapist he's comfortable with. The first one was a flop, and Coran doesn't have what Lance needs in a therapist... and..."

 Grabbing his towel off the rack, Shiro held it towards him

"Keith, you're panicking. This is a conversation we should be having with a clear head. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to sit him forward so I can get out, then get him out"

"Do you have spare towels?"

"In the cupboard"

Bending down Shiro draped the towel over Lance's mid section, before guiding him up off of Keith's legs. Sliding out from behind Lance, water sloshed over the floor, Shiro supporting Lance longer enough for Keith to gather him up and lift him out the bathtub

"I'll grab you out some towels"

"I'll dry him off in here, then I can put him to bed out there. Can you wait outside for us?"

"Want me to grab you something to wear?"

They didn't have clothes in the bathroom... Lance was far too naked for his liking, and far too naked in front of Shiro, even with the towel covering most of him. Being runt sized to most Galra had its advantages, towels were practically single sheets

"Yeah. Some sweats and shirts. He can take vargas to come back from a normal attack, but..."

"Keith. I've seen his attacks before. I should have stepped in, but I thought he deserved answers to his questions... None of us could quite expect what Kre'el had been through"

Glaring at Shiro, he didn't want her name spoken near Lance, let alone thought

"That doesn't make her actions alright. You have no idea how hard it's been to bring him back... He's fucking fighting so hard to stay strong. He was out there with none of us for 6 phoebs... I want to fucking kill her... I want to killer but now I'm stuck sympathising with her... I can't take the truth away... and I have no idea what he's going to say when he wakes up"

"For now, worry about getting dry and cleaned up. I'll find those clothes for you"

"Thanks, Shiro"

Keith knew he didn't need to ask Shiro to keep this to himself, but was sure they'd be having that conversation whether about what had happened he liked it or not

"You're welcome. Anything either of you need, you know I'm always here for you"

"We know... Um... maybe don't mention this to Lance. He's... he doesn't like people touching him when he's unconscious"

"The secret's safe"

  Lance roused as Keith was drying his hair. His boyfriend was sitting on the toilet, the best place to keep him stable as he dried him down. Letting out a sniffle, Keith pulled the towel down to find Lance's pained eyes staring at him. Leaning in, the half-Galra kissed his boyfriend's forehead before resting his own against it

"K-Keith...?"

"You're ok, baby"

"What... what happened?"

Lance's voice was soft and broken, stuttered with disorientation

"You had an attack. We're back in my bathroom. You were freezing cold so I got us warmed up. Do you understand me?"

"She was a mother..."

"Babe. Babe, hey. I need you here with me. Did you hear me?"

Lance nodded, raising his head to kiss Keith's forehead before settling back against him

"We're in your bathroom"

"Good. That's good. We're going to have a little lie down until you're feeling up for talking again"

"I feel drained"

"Yeah, it was a bad attack. You were really out of it"

"'m sorry"

"It's ok. Let me just get you dry and warm"

"And we'll cuddle?"

"Yeah... Oh, quiznak!"

Lance jumped lightly, whining at Keith's curse

"What?"

"I forgot to put Kosmo out last night... I don't know if he'll be here or with mum"

"It's ok... I'm ok... I just need to process what she said... you and... oh..."

Lance's breath hitched. Keith gave him the best smile he could

"No. No, stay focused on me. It's ok"

"He knows... too..."

"We'll talk about it after you get some rest"

"I'm so fucking stupid!"

Lashing out, there was no real bite, but self derision

"You're not..."

"I am! She... she went through so much! She had to watch her daughter die... what happened to me..."

Lance wasn't up for this, not when he was too out of it to

"Babe. No. What happened to her, she had decaphoebs to find another way. Any other way. You're going to work yourself into another attack in you don't calm down for me"

Sighing, Lance raised his left hand to his face Keith narrowly missing having his eye impaled on his fingers

"Sorry. My head's all messed up"

"It's alright. You're alright, just let me take care of things"

Lance gave a small nod

"Yeah... I feel... out of it"

"Maybe a little bit"

"I... want to see her again"

No way was that happening. She hadn't given them much of anything in terms of her operation. She'd only served to break Lance's heart further

"Ok, that's enough talking for now"

"Still want to see her..."

"We'll talk about it later"

 Carrying Lance out the bathroom, he was awake and cuddly. Nuzzling into Keith's neck, Keith wouldn't be swayed. Lance was resting, and he was resisting his cuddly charms. Pulling back the covers for them, Keith pulled a face at Shiro who was looking at them like he'd seen the most precious baby animal video in existence. Slipping in under the covers, Shiro covered them back up, Lance yawning as his nuzzling was disturbed

"Hi, Shiro..."

"Hey, Kiddo. I thought you were sleeping"

"I am..."

Shiro gave a soft chuckle, about to sit on the edge of Keith's bed until Keith let out a warning growl. Smacking him on the chest, Lance scolded him

"Bad Keith. No growling at your brother... Shiro... don't take it to heart... he gets growly"

"I'll give you growly"

Nuzzling at Lance's hair, Keith kept it up until Lance started trying to push him off, twisting himself to face away, but burrowing back into Keith's hold

"Ok. Ok. Shiro, can you stop this?"

"Sorry, Lance. He's yours now"

"Ugh... ew!"

Licking the side of Lance's face, Lance wiped at the spot with annoyance. Keith was kind of trying anything he could to keep Lance's attention on him and not his brother. He didn't want Shiro touching his boyfriend, or near their bed. He wanted the bed to be Lance's safe place to hide until he bounced back. The half-Galra couldn't stop his instincts or desire to monopolise Lance for himself

"Shiro's trying to ask me if I'm ok, and I want to sleep. Can you stop it long enough for me to tell him ok, and I'm sorry"

"Babe, you don't need to apologise"

"I do. I was supposed to do better"

Shiro moved his hand, going to place it down on Lance's forehead before stopping himself. In his hold, Lance deflated. So much for not treating Lance in anyway except for normal

"It's fine Shiro, you're not going to get dirty... I saved that for your brother..."

 Keith and Shiro's hearts broke. Climbing onto the bed, Shiro pulled both Keith and Lance into an awkward hug. Keith was sure the hug was for Lance, but he wasn't letting go. Even if his body was protesting how he had to move for the hug

"Don't ever say that about yourself. I didn't want to upset you or cross your boundaries after a panic attack. You're not dirty. You're not... You did well, you got her talking. She spoken more to than to any of us"

"I lost my head"

"It happens to all of us. Whatever you need, Lance. You can rely on us"

"Please don't tell anyone... I don't want to be different. I don't want any pity"

"I won't. I promise you that I won't. You get some rest for now. I remember how exhausting it was coming face to face with Sendak again was. You're safe and allowed to rest"

"Thank you, Shiro... I'm sorry I f-fucked everything up"

"You fucked nothing up. Don't think that for a moment"

Lance sniffled, trying to lighten the mood like he did when things got too much

"Space Dad swore. Did you hear that Keith?"

"I did. Whatever would the others say?"

"I don't know... I'm so sick of resting"

 Shiro released then both

"Rest is important. Take some time and talk things through. If you can't talk to Keith, or myself, then talk to Coran. Don't keep it bottled up inside"

"Keith's been... he's been good. Better than I deserve..."

"Don't say that either. You nothing deserve to be happy. I'm going to let you rest. I need to check some things out and check them with what Kre'el said. I'll let you both know later"

"Thanks for keeping us in the loop"

"You're welcome"

 Left alone with Lance, Keith pulled him back down to spoon up with him. Rubbing his hand up and down Lance's right arm, his boyfriend let out another yawn

"Shiro's right, you need rest"

"That's all I've done since I got here... I don't know why I'm so tired"

"Because you had an attack"

"It's not even lunch time"

"That doesn't matter. Take a nap and we'll talk about it all later, ok?"

"Matters to much"

"That's because too much matters to you. You're too kind for your own good"

"Something else to fuck up... Dios... I'm shutting up now"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You heard Shiro, you did good. Now stop avoiding sleeping, I'm right here"

"So bossy..."

"I thought you were shutting up..."

Lance grumbled under his breath as Keith held him tight. For all their travel, he'd swap it all to be able to go back to that morning and find a way to be by Lance's side in that room with Kre'el.

    *

Lance napped for a few vargas before waking again, shifting around in his hold as he tried to fall back into a nap, then gave up. It was only early afternoon, Kosmo having teleported in while Lance was dead to the world. A note attached to the wolf's fur that his grandmother wanted to talk to his father at his earliest convenience. Scrunching the note up, Keith tossed it across the room. His mother wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't going anywhere without Lance. Still sleepy, Lance rolled in his hold. His lips pushed against Keith's before Keith knew what was happening. The kiss was small, but filled with love. Breaking the kiss, Lance raised his hand to cup Keith's face, his thumb tracing the edges of Keith's lips in a caring, yet ticklish way

"Hey you"

"Hey. How do you feel?"

"Mmm. Like I have lot on my mind"

"Wanna tell me?"

"I... I think I need to talk to Kre'el again"

"Babe..."

"Please, Keith..."

Keith knew he should let Lance talk, but his heart was starting to race. The little bell going off in his head, telling him this was bad idea

"No"

"Keith, please..."

"You had a panic attack! You stopped functioning and you temperature dropped! You don't owe her anything!"

 Screaming at his traumatised boyfriend was definitely not how to handle the moment. His soft and loving boyfriend racing to get out of his bed and away from him. Pushing himself up, Keith closed his eyes. He had to calm down. Counting to three, he opened his eyes again

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled"

Wrapping his arms around himself, Lance didn't come closer. A thick lump forming in his throat at the rejection

"Babe. I know you think you need to be strong, but she got into your head"

"Of course she got into my head! You heard what she said..."

"She ordered Klearo..."

"She didn't order him to rape me"

"No! She ordered him to torture you"

"I know! I was fucking there... but Keith... I need to talk to her again"

"Why? What could you possibly want to know?"

"I want to... I want to know what happened. I want to know what happened to Helo. I want to know why she couldn't tell me. I want to know... I want her to know I kind of get it"

 Keith was staggered. Lance "kind of got it". What? What did he get? That even though Allura gave her life, nothing could have been done for Kre'el or her people because they'd been affected by the radiation a bad wormhole had bathed the ship in? Because that was the only thing he got. Things went to shit for them. They tried to make it on there own out of sheer stubbornness and hate, but that got them nowhere at all. Lance had been a last ditch attempt to selfishly save themselves.

 No. He didn't really think like that. Not deep down... But he did. Kre'el wasn't there to piece Lance back together. She'd been right there. She should have protected him from the beginning, not felt shame after the damage was done. If he was parent, he'd never wish this on his kids. Did other people's kids not matter? Because she hadn't birthed him... The smiling shifted Kre'el looked in her late twenties at the most... Her being more than 50 times their ages refused to sink in. How long ago had she lost her daughter? His thoughts were getting off topic again.

 "What the quiznak do you mean you get it?! She could have stopped him at any time! She could have stopped all at this at any time? Or have you forgotten she cut your finger off? Or that she had that thing put in your head! I love you! I love how fucking brave you are, but I can't... I don't know how to keep letting you hurt yourself! You weren't talking. You were ice cold. You weren't even blinking, just staring like you didn't see anything at all! How do I pick you up from that again? I refuse to let her hurt you again"

"I'm hurting because I'm confused! I'm confused!"

"You're hurting because she tried to fucking kill you!"

"I'm hurting because I was pregnant too! How could she not tell me? I tried to do the math on Altea and I ended up fucking wrong, but I would have been giving birth there if that was still inside of me! She was a mum. She wanted to save her kid and had to watch her die. She... she said she wouldn't wish rape on anyone... and... she's been there. I don't know how... but she's been there... She's been there and she's been so full of hate. She could have said it out loud, but when I asked if she cared she stopped... I want... I need to know if she was just stopping because she remembers or if she did care... I need to know if she was ever my friend, or if she was trying to let me down gently. I need to... I need to know if she killed everyone. She said they were taken care of. The ones I didn't kill... she... she promised they had all gone away... Keith... they could be out there. More of them with that tattoo... I need to know... and I... need to know if they filmed it... What if they survived? What if there was more than I remember? I have to know. How can I be with you, if that's out there? How can I be with you if I always have to wonder? I want to start a new life with you, Keith. Which means I need to leave my past behind. I can't leave it behind when it's constantly clawing to be let in..."

 Keith groaned, covering his face before sliding his hands up and his fingers into his hair

"I don't want to smother you. I don't want to act like I own you. Like you're some damn pet. So why can't you get it already? How much I love you. That when you hurt, I hurt too. I want to be your husband. I want to make you happy, but when you do things like this, put yourself in harms way, I don't know how to protect you or help you. You always want to do everything alone when you're trying to spare someone the pain of being hurt, but babe, that's not what you wanted from a relationship. You wanted us to be equal. I'm telling you I'm scared for you. I'm scared that seeing her again, is going to... is going to break you so badly you won't come back to me"

"Can't you have faith in me?"

"I do"

"Then let me talk to her again. Let me ask what I need to know. How do you think it would look if the media got the videos? How would it look for a former Paladin acting like such a slut? And for you... people might turn their backs on you and the Galra again... That would ruin everything you've worked for. The Galra are still called brutes. Having four of them rape... having four of them touching me... If people see it, they're not going to see them as just a small section of the Galra. They're minds are still healing from the war... and this... this going to send it all back there. I need to know. And I'm going to talk to her..."

 Lance trailed off, arms still firmly wrapped around himself

"... Keith"

"I don't want you in there with her alone. Can you understand why? You've old just woken up from an attack. You're shaky and vulnerable to another straight after... what if it all goes wrong? What if... you get stuck in your head. I'm doing everything I can to support you. I'm trying my fucking hardest. I don't know what you want from me"

 The problem wasn't having faith. He had faith and trust in Lance. He was just... he was so tired of walking on eggshells because of Kre'el. Lance was the one having the attacks, he could soothe Lance through the attacks, but it made him feel so weak and helpless. He couldn't handle things he didn't know how to handle

"What I want from you is to understand I'm doing this for both of us... I want my boyfriend to understand that I want to leave this behind. I want to... I want to understand, Keith... Why don't you come to see her with me? I know it's going to be hard for both of us, but you deserve as many answers as I do. I... I couldn't have... I probably would have been dead by now, without you"

 Climbing off the bed, Keith walked over to Lance who instantly reached for him. Hushing him, Lance nuzzled into his neck

"I want to put this behind us. I want to make sure it doesn't get even bigger and I want to make sure no one else is suffering. I know this hurts... I know you never asked to be dragged into my mess. And if I could take it back, I would. I would, because I know you're taking all this pain on as well as mine. I hate talking about it. I hate feeling weak. I hate having this between us. You're the one who forced me to confront this, so come with me a little further"

He'd take it back? How much was he taking back? Them?

"Would you take back us being together?"

"No! Not for a single tick. You're the... you're the only one for my pining bi arse. Out of everyone, you're the one who's opinion mattered to me the most. That's why I couldn't tell you I was out here... I was so fucking ashamed... you... you kept talking to me, even when the others gave up. You made me open up. Open up to my team. Be honest with them, with you, with Coran and myself. We're so close to the end with her. Come with me? Let's see this through to the end together?"

"I lost this argument the day I realised I'd fallen for your stubborn Cuban arse"

"So you'll come with me?"

"I'll be there with you... but if I stab her..."

"Can you wait until it's over first? Until we've heard her out?"

"If she even looks like she's about to hurt you..."

"Babe, I think she just wants to get everything off her chest first"

"Fine... but at least let me carry my blade"

"Deal. I know how attached to that thing you are. Most people choose a soft toy for comfort, but you wouldn't be you without your knife"

Keith nuzzled into Lance, pressing kisses to the skin just shy of the hickies he'd given his lover that morning

"You're more comforting"

Lance gave a soft chuckle

"I thought I was a stubborn pain in the arse?"

"You are. The most quiznakking, overbearing, loud, idiot, that means more than life to me"

"Then for this idiot, why don't we finish this?"

"Yeah. Lance and Keith, neck and neck to the end"

"Then we ride off into the sunset like the accidental husband's we are"

"If we ride off into the sunset, what happens to all the chocolate you bought? I'm not riding off into the sunset with out it"

"Lucky for you, most of it's peppermint"

 Lance hissed as he pushed him away

"Peppermint! The travesty! It's a traitor to its race!"

Walking over to their bed, Lance threw himself down dramatically

"Babe?"

"Moment ruined. Why would you ruin chocolate that way?"

Coming up behind Lance, Keith prodded him in the side. Lance's mood changes were just as confusing as the rest of him

"I'm joking. I'm joking... The chocolate can come with us. The peppermint is limited"

"Can we take some with us? No one can say no to chocolate... maybe if... we show her that what happened before doesn't faze us, it'll give us the upper hand"

"But it did faze you"

"Keeeeeith"

"Fine. Fine. Let's get some chocolate and go see the she-devil"

Rolling over, Lance glared at him

"I'll decide if she's a she-devil or not, once we have answers"

Keith huffed. He didn't want any of this, but for Lance he'd be there

"You already know my answer. I'll get the chocolate, you get our boots out of the bathroom"

Smiling at him, Lance moved to stand back up, kissing his cheek as he started off towards the bathroom. Kre'el might be a woman of mystery, but no one would ever be as mysterious as Lance. What he wouldn't give to know what the quiznak went on his head at any given time.

[nomadicmovement713]

Manic

24 hours had passed and I was in a hole, the darkness had consumed me and I couldn’t dispel it, what was going on? I had all of the reasons in life to be happy but the flashes were still coming by the minute, as I drove home that night, I imagined crashing, diving headlong off of the Ben Franklin, nothing to stop me but the thick unforgivable steel, and the thoughts of those I would lose in the process.

I made it home safely. Against a plight of thoughts that were tempting me otherwise. Into bed I go. Feeling like that was the only place I’d be safe. No sharps around. Nothing to harm me. I convince myself to stay steady and distract my brain. It’s time to fill my body with the cure, a hand full of pills and the coldest iced tea. They’re prescribed so what harm could they do. I’ll drift off to sleep and start a new day, filled with sunshine and the voice of my love, the fix I needed to climb out of this tunnel.

But the pills, they’ve turned on me, I feel my body start to shake and the numbness approach my lips, I can’t reach my slumber. And if I continue laying here, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me with the thoughts running rampant in my brain that night. So I decide to move, into the closest haven I can find myself while staying relaxed, a hot bath, not the lukewarm after thought, the kind that stings your skin and makes you feel alive. But then upon exiting, immediately ready for a drowsy release.

I enter with an ahhh of immediate comfort, feeling the heat overtake me, realizing this is exactly what I needed to escape. But I’ve gone too far. The chemicals have overtaken me finally and I feel as if I’m drowning in this 2ft pool, deciding to escape as the world starts to turn, I’ve lost my grip on reality and nothing seems tangible, not even my feet on the floor, I go down the first time, feeling my bones crunch on the imitation wood, and I’m gone, everything is black and I wake up sweating, unable to stand, spinning out of control.

I find myself in an army crawl trying to get back to the sanctuary of my bed. Imagining how silly it was to be contemplating an end just hours before when now I am literally praying for a way to hear the sweet voice of my heart in the nighttime. In the distance I see the purple sheets, I am almost there, falling repeatedly with my head against the tattered carpet. Wishing I had played my cards differently. Wishing I had remained stationary, playing solitaire in my mind until I had met Hypnos.

[authorellenmint]

Amell spies Cullen washing up in the morning.

She expected to have to knock upon the Commander's door but it was thrown wide open allowing all of his minions free range of the place. One of the soldiers leaned over his desk, adding more papers to a pile threatening to topple onto the floor. The soldier's face glanced up and she lifted an eyebrow at the interloping mage.

"I was looking for Commander Cullen," Lana said shifting up and down on her toes. She felt foolish, the sun barely broke the jagged horizon and she had no viable reason to be visiting him at all, much less this early in the morning.

If the soldier could read her mind, she gave no indication to try and stop her. Instead, she gestured upward, "He's in his loft."

"Thank you, uh..."

"Addley," the woman smiled.

"Right. Thank you, Addley," Lana bobbed her head in thanks and began the climb up his ladder. Maker's breath, when he picked this room was he trying for the most awkward quarters imaginable? It was one thing to keep near the heart of action - even her rooms in the Vigil sat over the throne room with a view of the courtyard - but this was preposterous. What if he was injured and couldn't climb the ladder? Would he have to sleep on his desk? Maker, he probably would, and wouldn't even complain about it.

Prodding her head up through the hole, she spied the man's bed rumpled beyond regulations, the duvet trailing onto the ground from a man dragging it off him as he rose. Hm, seemed templars could get away with leaving their beds unmade but mages had to make it tight corners every morning. How unfair. Carefully sliding out of the hole, Lana steadied herself on the sloping floor then turned to find Cullen leaning near a mirror with a blade in his hand.

She'd had two to one odds with Hawke that he never actually shaved. Perhaps some old elvhen blood in his line kept the scruff from ever growing beyond its first quarter inch, but there he was shirtless, yanking down on his top lip to scrape his hair away with the dull edge. Cullen hissed when the blade skittered down his cheek, red dots rising in the wake from terrible razor burn. Screwing his eyes tight, he placed the blade back in its box and grabbed up a cloth to dab away the loose hair and blood. Judging by the way he sneered but didn't flinch this probably happened often.

Lana went from amused to blushing awkward as the time stretched on without him realizing she stood behind. Surely he'd turn around from his mirror and spot her, or he'd catch sight of her in the very mirror. But the commander must have been lost in thought as he never once turned to find her. Maybe she should have waited downstairs with Addley. After finishing with the razor, and stopping the blood, he dipped his cloth into the brass water basin perched on his end table. Water dribbled off his shoulder as he squeezed the cloth against it, rivulets canvassing every delectable curve of the muscles down his back. There were numerous good things to be said about the front of a man, for obvious reasons, but something in the play of shoulder muscle undulating with each move and the long canyon running the length of his spine until it disappeared into his pants and parts there of shut off the thinking center of Lana's brain. Abs were nice, in the right dose, and a chest of course for laying a head upon, but Maker did she love a good backside, perfect for gripping onto and curving the palm of her hand against while the straining muscles played against it. Few were blessed with the right combination, but the commander had it in spades.

Perhaps he finally sensed a presence behind him, or more likely he heard her struggling to keep in a sigh from water highlighting each taut curve of his body. The cloth paused in the basin and Cullen glanced over his shoulder at her. Surprise twisted his tongue giving Lana time to jump in.

"Good morning," she said.

"Uh, morning to you as well. I, were we planning on...? I don't remember if there was an idea to," Cullen stuttered around the confusion.

Smiling, Lana stepped closer to him. He still had his back turned to her, but his neck strained to keep focus upon her until she leaned beside him, her hip brushing against the table. "No, there was no plan. I," absently Lana picked up the abandoned cloth and splashed it in the basin, "I wished to see you."

"Oh," now the blush rose up his cheeks, his lips parting with a soft laugh, "I'm, it's nice to see you, too. Assuming it's nice to see me as well."

After wringing the saturated cloth out, Lana pressed it against the middle of Cullen's back, right in the area he couldn't reach. His eyes slipped closed as she stroked downward tracing the bends of his muscles she wished to follow with her lips instead. "I am surprised at you. The commander of the Inquisition reduced to taking a spitz bath."

He chuckled at her summation of his morning toilet while she soaked up more of the lukewarm water. A part of her was shocked it was even that warm; he struck her as a 'crack the ice off the bucket in the morning and wash with that' type.

"Surely someone of your lofted position can afford a claw footed tub and gallons of piping hot water," Lana continued. She placed one hand upon his chest for balance while the other wiped down his side. Below her fingers, the throb of his heartbeat thumped in an increasing allegro. Despite the morning mountain air, his naked skin was warm and inviting, tempting her to place her entire chest against his.

Cullen glanced down at her hand, but his arms remained dangling at the side, uncertain what to do. Even she had no idea what her endgame was beyond getting him clean. "Someone in my position can ill afford to waste time boiling away in a bathtub," he sighed, but there was no bitterness in his words, as if he had little use for a tub. Instead, he whispered it softly to her, his breath pushing into her hair.

"Come now, given the choice between cold water and a lone washcloth versus a hot bathtub and," she paused in her scrubbing to lean back and catch his eye, "someone to bathe with, would you really pick this?"

"Depends on who I'm sharing it with," he smiled with the curve of his lips that both curled her toes and broke her heart. Cullen was never the light hearted grinner that...others were -- his smiles came at great cost, which made them rarer and more precious. A bit like a butterfly that only lived for a few weeks before the golden wings shattered against the ground. The laugh was one thing, a quick bray that he pushed out for the sake of solidarity or because something caught his fancy. But that grin, that 'you reached my soul and I have no idea how to respond beyond this smile' touched her every time she saw it. A forgotten part of her never wanted it to end.

Releasing the washcloth in the basin, Lana slid around to face him. Her butt gently knocked into the mirror, but he was focused only on the woman placing her hands upon his chest and pushing up on her tiptoes, lips searching for his. She'd been dreaming of these kisses for nights now; when not hearing the archdemon chittering in her brain, at least. How he'd soften his lips from their tight strain whenever she'd press against him. Almost as if his armor melted at her touch, exposing for a brief moment the man beneath it all. That was what she wanted, yearned to have again just like in the Deep Roads.

Cullen's hand cupped her jaw, those strong fingers pressing gently into her cheek. He pulled her closer to deepen the kiss, his other arm wrapping around her back while Lana slid her hands around his neck to steady herself. Then the sound of a door knocking back on its hinges brought them both back to reality. There was all of Skyhold wandering in and out only a ladder's jump away.

He broke the kiss, but didn't slip away. Instead, he pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, "There's talk that the Hero of Ferelden will be attending a ball at the Winter Palace."

"Interesting," Lana said. So close she could see the damage he did to his cheek with the razor. She flinched from the specks still welling in a raging scarlet. Softly, her fingers trailed down the razor burn leaving a hint of healing magic in their wake. Nothing near as impressive as curing a broken leg, this was more like a dab of lotion upon a sunburn. "You think she'll show up dressed like a griffin? Or, perhaps she'd roll in on a cart drawn by darkspawn."

Cullen smirked and his fingers caught hers as they finished the spell. Already the welts were vanishing away leaving only poorly scraped stubble behind. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I know," she said, her vision drifting from his panting lips up to those honey eyes. They rested downward themselves, only a hint of that amber color evident below his concerned brow. "But if it will help..."

"Are you certain you're up to it?" His hands didn't move towards her wound, but she understood.

"I'm as on the mend as I'll ever be. Don't worry, Cullen," she splayed her fingers against his soothed cheek, "I can handle myself." Leaning forward, she cupped her lips around his for another kiss. A curious hint of mint lingered on his tongue that hadn't been there before her spell.

"I know you are more than capable, even when injured." He breathed into her ear, "I only thought you would prefer to gnaw your own leg off than have to face down a room full of orlesian nobility."

Lana threw her head back and laughed, the mirth strong enough to jump to his face. His once doleful eyes sparkled in response as she curled up tighter in his arms. "You're sweet," she said, pecking against his cheek.

"Is that so?" he volleyed back, bearing a quirk to his lips.

"I've always thought it."

"Sweet is the last descriptor I'd have put towards me. As of late, at least," his eyes turned away from her, but she caught his cheek and tried to pull him back.

"Cullen," Lana whispered, "I..." A thousand thoughts rattled in her head. She knew about the rigors of command, how it was easier to harden your flesh to armor than face the unending pain of loss as your people were inevitably struck down. That one could easily lose themselves to the distance and think that all remained was the steel shell. But by the Maker, she did not see that when she looked upon him. He cared, sometimes she feared for how much he did and the toll it carried.

Sighing, she let every thought slip through her fingers. She couldn't find a way to voice it beyond some claptrap about maintaining one's humanity in the face of adversity. Instead, she snuggled her head against his bare chest, his skin radiating against her cheek. "I thought you were sweet in the tower. Remember the, uh, nickname you had?"

"How could I forget?" he sighed but shook his head, a soft chuckle at the end.

"Well," her fingers trailed along his collarbone, following the swoop until it fell into the divot above sternum, "It was I who began it."

"Really?" he started, his eyes trying to pry her off his chest so he could study her for a falsehood, but Lana buried herself deeper, a blush rising up her cheeks. For the Maker's sake it was over ten years ago, but she couldn't stop the giddy embarrassment at getting called out for it, even if she did it to herself. "I'd thought it was one of the other templars trying to prod at me. But it was you all along? If I'd known..."

"Nothing would have changed," Lana whispered to his chest.

"That," despite the chill whispering through his loft, Cullen was an oasis of warmth. He clung tighter to her, his hands meeting behind her back, "that's true, sadly."

"Life's never been a straight line for me, not the way it's supposed to." She didn't mean to sound bitter. All things considered, she was damn lucky she still breathed.

"Lana, I..." he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, pulling her with him as he thought, "Whatever path the Maker's set for me, for you, I'm grateful you stumbled back into my life."

"Me too," she whispered, rising up to kiss him again.

[forthefosters]

I’m fine, we’re fine

Let me preface this by saying...if you have a weak stomach or do not enjoy reading about other people’s bodily fluids- skip it. This post is gross. 

We’re just battling the never ending sickness from hell. It started the Wednesday before Christmas. 2yo had a cough, fever, chills, runny nose- the usual. We gave him some extra naps, did some sinus rinses and extra fluids and voila! He was better by Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I woke up with the worst headache i’ve ever had. By noon, I was running at 103.5. By 5pm I was laying totally still and hoping that I didn’t die. I rallied and managed to put shit under the tree. Christmas day is a total blur. I was still feverish and miserable. That night, the baby caught it. By this point, I was pretty sure I was knocking on death’s door. I could barely move, and the baby would only cease his screaming if he was in my arms (or, you know, trying to physically climb into my body). Due to what I assumed was snot and nastiness draining into his belly, he puked all over me. Lukewarm bath, some pedialyte, and tylenol, and finally we all fell asleep. We got at 11 AM the next day. By 1 o’clock the baby was ready for a nap again, and honestly, so was I. I noticed that AJ was starting to sniffle, so I quickly made her drink cinnamon and honey and lemon and everything else I could think of to keep the illness away. I snuggled in for a quick nap while the kiddos were asleep, and the next think I hear is AJ yelling, “SOS!” from the baby’s room. Thinking we are going to the ER because he’s having some kind of febrile seizure, I sprint up the steps to find the baby, his crib, and AJ covered in more puke. I’m still convincing myself that this is simply because of his cold- this couldn’t possibly be a stomach virus on top of everything else, right? 

WRONG. 

I managed to maintain sanity for two days, (diarrhea filled, but no more vomit).  Finally, on the third day, the watery diapers ended. I believed we were in the clear. By New Year’s Eve, I assumed all was fine. Until 2yo started farting the nastiest farts i’ve ever smelled. It’s just something he ate, I told myself. We went about our day. When he refused to eat breakfast, I blamed it on the weather. Slowly, I could feel the panic rising. Nap time, hooray! With the baby still recovering, we laid down for naps earlier than usual. About an hour in, I heard the sound. I tore up the steps, trying to prevent the mess from happening on the new mattress for his “big boy” bed. I wasn’t fast enough. By the time I entered the room, it was already coming from both ends. I stood there in horror, trying to make my newly potty trained little babe understand that this couldn’t have been prevented, as he whined between retches and sobs, “I POOP IN ME NEW BED! I POOP IN ME NEW BED!”

Bath, laundry, mattress scrubbing, introducing him to the “Yuck-It Bucket”. Put his old plastic mattress on the floor, put some cartoons on, and went downstairs to find AJ laying on our bed, looking pale as a ghost. I’ll let your imagination come up with what happened next, but note that she is an adult and WAS able to make it to the bathroom. 

Commence with me lysol wiping, bleaching, and scrubbing all surfaces. Stripping beds and washing pillows, and hoping above all else that I would survive unscathed. I did not. (Picture me vomiting into the bathroom trash can while shitting, then, realizing that the smell of my vomit was making me puke more, throwing the trashcan out the bathroom window and continuing to puke into the grass below the open window).

  The only person with magical immunity in this house is 3yo. We’ve been through sickness after sickness and she has yet to catch a single thing. I think it’s gone now. I think we survived. Welcome, 2018. Welcome. 

[forestbathing-studies-blog]

The Art of Forest Bathing VI

In order to write I decided to live in Chamonix, France, next to the Mont Blanc, highest mountain in Western Europe.  get the cross-country skis out. Without snow in Lappland yet I have not skied through the forest every evening and some mornings too. My body misses the excercise and movement. And these short sojourns in nature go far beyond keeping fit. ‘If you want to solve a problem, take a walk,’ the saying goes.

We all remember our favourite hike, or trek. I remember my favourite cross country ski journey. It was in the Alps, in France, and I’d skied up the Chamonix valley to give blood at the village of Argentière. I’d settled into the comfortable couch and let the pretty nurse slide her fingers up my arm to find a vein and drifted into pleasant flirtateous dreams.

When finished in Britain one is lucky to get a cup of lukewarm tea and stale biscuit. But I was in France. At tables laden with salamis and red wine the locals found out I was Scottish, who are great friends of the French.

It was dark when I staggered out, bottles and blood empty, laughter and hearts full. Of course I had quite forgotten the effects of copious red wine on a relatively empty stomach after a blood donation, and when put on skis skied straight down a bank into a small river, where I stood chuckling for a few minutes.

Unbeaten and undaunted after this mild setback, I struggled downriver, cracking through the ice, until I pulled myself up onto a wooden bridge, from where I set off on my journey again straight off into the mountains, lost for a full two hours in the moonlit dark.

Back in time, just, for a conference on organ donation, where I unfortunately fell asleep and was escorted out.

But I had donated blood from my heart infused with love-at-first-sight for the prettiest nurse this side of sunrise. I found the most illogical way home on the postcard mountainside. Through snow sprinkled with moonlight I plunged, like falling into a warm desert dune with a nurse’s whispered words on my lips, skipole firm and snow crystals still soft and plentiful, like Saharan sand.

My pilgrimage home had taken me further than the longest route I could find, to thoughts of far places. And I had done more than enough for the haiku, composed while clattering in a river bed, remembered and thus rendered below.

I took a job as a mountain refuge warden there for a while, at some 2,000 metres altitude, but soon enjoyed reading the mountains more than a reader would have reading my never-appearing novel, so I moved down to the centre of town as winter set in. I loved Chamonix.

In the town I enjoyed a friendship with the PGHM, the mountain rescue team, a friendship I struck when working at the refuge, and particularly when one night a hammering at the door woke me; a man in a terrible state, having stumbled and jumped down the steep mountain side to the refuge after watching his wife fall over a cliff. The rescue helicopter went up to look with searchlight and found her, but radioed back they could not get near her in the cliffs at night, and that anyway, she had not survived the fall, that much they could see. I had gone up anyway to find her, especially after the helicopter team told me in no uncertain terms not to tell the man his wife had been killed in the fall until morning, as he might very well just step straight over a cliff himself at the news. So I went up the mountain in order to not have to answer his questions, and after a few hours saw she was not in a state of survival, and I waited till morning, standing at the door of the téléphérique, the cable car, to tell him, at which he crumpled onto the floor of the cabin, and the big moustached cabin operator later remarked:

‘’you know Hamish, I would have expected him to fly at you in a rage and hit, beat you.’’

‘’Yeah, great. Thanks.’’

The PGHM had recovered her body and then got into an argument with the local police, who wanted to take the man back to the scene for ‘questioning’.

‘’I’ve seen it before,’’ the station head of the PGHM had remarked: ‘’we’ll have two bodies over cliffs. He’ll jump.’’

There were other solid friendships; with the ski instructor, a woman who had skied down the very difficult Bossons glacier, after walking up with her skis for over eight hours, and who giggled at my British reserve when she and her friend had thrown their tops off to sunbathe at a mountain lake only hours after meeting me; and there was Catherine D’Estivelle, the climber, who that summer had climbed the Aiguille Verte — the Green Needle, alone, over eleven days, bivouacking on the rock face, and the woman who owned the bar that let me keep a tab running all winter, the bakery owning couple who made the freshest bread on the spot, which I ate where it was cooked, and the other mountain people, who regarded the tourists with mild indulgence; the tourists who had a penchant for acting like tourists — you know what I mean, of which perhaps the most touristy were the Swedes, who drank copious amounts of booze but would not touch the water, for fear of it not being pure, who boasted of a clean Sweden while uprooting all the Christmas trees in Viking exuberance and drinking coffee slowly each morning, wearing heavy mountain gear that clinked and jangled and jarred on their nerves.

And I decided to leave. To leave the town I loved. The blue/green late afternoons in the shade of the pine tree slopes of the mountains, the cream mornings of snow-capped mountains between open shutters, the newsagent who gave me my morning newspaper and coffee every morning when I walked through the door, and the mountains, again, and my mountain climbing partners and the seasons.

My last season in Chamonix was late summer, in the Saami definition of eight seasons. I was living my last few weeks in a tent at the bottom of the Mer de Glace glacier, and my morning plunge into the water rushing off the bottom of the glacier brought a new definition to the word cold, as well as embarrassment, when one morning I had jumped in, lay down briefly in the current and clambered out quickly, and heard a ‘’coooeeee!’’, looked left, looked right, looked behind, looked in front, my skin growing red, my vital parts shivered to mere millimetres, and then heard the ‘’coooeee!!’’ again, looked left right front back sideways and finally..upwards, to see a woman on delta wing, circling before landing, and laughing at my lack of restraint.

And the morning I left I met a silver-haired solitary Czech climber, who was hammering nails in his boots and knotting old ropes — his dream happening at last: climbing Mont Blanc, his food with him in cans, his home a tarpaulin over a wire, his happiness complete.

I was going to Oymyakon, the coldest town in the world (lowest temp recorded -71.2ºC/ -96.16ºF) , in Yakutia, Siberia, and chosen because I was sure that sitting in a hut in the coldest town in the world was a sure-fire way of writing, and importantly, completing a book. Immediately I set about planning an expedition through Yakutia, until I remembered it was to write I was going, and to attempt to ensure I was getting myself stuck into a small cabin, with a pile of logs, tea pot and long lost love deep in fur. The last one was not actually a requirement, though it was true that having someone to cook always means a necessary routine can be installed into a writer’s drab existence at the table, which is in reality a window of course. Yakutia, and in particular Oymyakon, fits some requirement’s of a writer’s retreat, but not all: it was exotic, not pricey — the cash flow is going in 1 direction after all, if the book is to be scribed — and the fish can be caught and cooked, a welcomed way to meditate. Oymyakon is a small town, the nature is beguilingly beautiful, but it forces you back to the writing table quickly, and the natives are not too restless. The town is found on the infamous Road of Bones. It does get a sprinkling of tourists, which is nice, and not all are similar to the Norwegians who got stuck and needed rescuing, claiming to be broken down, or the Germans who also got stuck and chose not to leave their vehicle when being rescued to thank the rescuers. (They would have been charged in another country of course, in places like Vancouver, but then would have probably found ways to sue for being charged for stupidity, as some do.) The fact that conditions were harsh, and risky, like the mountains of Chamonix, is something of a bonus for a writer. But it is also a pleasure when the little luxuries are available — bananas were prevalent, which was comforting, because at -55ºC ( -67ºF) they are more useful to hammer nails into wood than a badly made hammer, and don’t stick to the tongue like the head of a hammer does — something I can personally vouch is true, and if you don’t think you look absolutely stupid walking around town, even in Oymyakon, with a hammer stuck to your tongue, then think again. The wolves do hunt at night, and it if true that if the cold mist descends with the plummeting temperature in the deep snow and you are lost, then you have about 15 minutes to unlose yourself and find your way. After that your chances get pretty slim pretty quick, except your chances of being found next morning when the day is clear, a mere few metres to your cabin. But this provides the tension for your novel, so is worth the risk. Did I write the book? Yes. Did I find a cook deep in the fur, in a cabin down the road? The culture in Yakutia is captivating. And for those against fur, I can honestly tell you from experience that artificial fur just shreds; falls apart at those temperatures, and not keeping warm is not a question of fashion. Everything is different in summer though, when they welcome dawn on the longest day of the year at the summer solstice. Travel narrows our horizons — the more we learn about other cultures, the more sure we are about universal truths. And in Yakutia a universal truth is hugging cooks keeps you warm, as long as you compliment the mammoth steaks — tens of thousands of mammoth bones or even frozen mammoths have been found throughout history, so there’s a chance…

[namjoonchronicles]

remedy | jk

↳ author’s note My friend asked me what song comes into mind when I think of Jeon Jungkook, and truthfully? I couldn't think of a better song than Lana Del Rey's "Young & Beautiful"

Father told you to hide behind the closet and you did as told, without much question. You were just twelve but you understood everything. With as much power as your father had, it was only natural that he was taken, the way he did.  

Even though eleven years had passed, the memory stays vivid in your mind. Squeezing your eyes hard, breathing heavily will never make it better. Your hands tremble as you reach your mug of lukewarm water, sipping nervously. Unfiltered thoughts rushed out your tongue but unsaid, as you stood up, holding the edges of the desk, as you walked. Your knees almost give way until you caught yourself. You stare at that leather chair your father sat on, your grandfather sat on, your great grandfather sat on. That leather chair is where wretched plans were made. It had your father's stained blood on them when he was shot.

They try to take the 'throne' away, not knowing that the heir is armed and ready.

You turned the knob and your view were changed into an endless line of loyal men, both young and old, in black suits and trousers, each of them bowed to your presence. You walked past them in a slow, careful stride that's full of authority and elegance. "I shall be left alone today, I have a meeting with someone I do not wish to declare." You climbed into a black Sedan with tinted windows without explaining more. You even took the time to use the farthest route just in case you were being tailed. You climbed out the car at seven blocks away and got early for the meeting.

"Weather is nice but the food is not spicy." He pulled the extra chair on your table and sat comfortably. "You should try the next door's restaurant, they have great stew." You flickered your eyes and be rest-assured that your guest is the right one, with the code they declared. He had the tip of his index finger underneath your chin, lifting your head up to see him. He lowered his lips to yours and embraced your supple pair with his own. "The only appropriate way to greet between lovers."

You pulled away before he could put himself on you again. Jungkook had that smirk you knew too well. "Where have you been?" He asked, taking a sip on your drink without asking. "Will you still love me, when I'm not young and beautiful?" You looked at him, your eyes like daggers, straight to his dark orbs. He tilted his head to the side without breaking eye contact. His lips parted, closes, and then he left a small gap between the two, to say while staring into you, "I'm not going to answer a question you already know the answers to." He breaks eye contact, sitting a bit slouched into his seat, tapping his nails on the table.

"I have a job for you." You set your forearm down on the table. Jungkook twitches a smile. "You know I'd do anything for you," he paused, "...on you."

You snapped your head away. "I've wired two millions into your account bank, another two million will be transferred after the job is done. It's a 'point, aim, shoot'-kind of job." You smiled sweetly to him. "When do you want it done?" Jungkook straightened his back, lacing his fingers together, with a little frown forming between his brows. "I'll tell you when. But tonight, I'm going home with you." You said, without a tinge of emotion. You took his hand without a smile, and he stood up with you. You started moving away but Jungkook wouldn't budge. "...You're okay, right?" He asked. You nodded but didn't look at him in the eye. Jungkook instantly felt uneasy.

There was something that your eyes spoke to him. It made him think that all he heard from you was a lie. He didn't hesitate to hold you dearly in his arm, even though you resisted. Jungkook's embraces are magic, and the more he touched you, the more you hated yourself. You both spend hours in the bath tub, another hour in bed, just cuddling. His hot breath in your ear when you watch movies together on the couch. These few butterfly kisses he plants wherever and whenever he likes. Jungkook often carries you around, throwing you on the bed as he pleased. Cooking took several minutes more than you intended because he wouldn't stop poking his fingers on your skin underneath your shirt, lulling his forehead on the nook of your neck just because he feels like it.

His giggles, and the way you would lay on your side to face him as he did the same. Your index fingers touching one another. He would cradle you into his arms, whispering sweet words, brushing his lips against your forehead, keeping you close to his heartbeat. "Don't ever leave me." He would say.

Jungkook's kisses are always magical. So were his massages, the way he dries your hair. He had a lot in his penthouse. A gym, a pool, a Jacuzzi, two living rooms, and game room. But your favorite had to be his gun room. Jungkook is a paid assassin, and it was destiny. He said it was his fate because born an orphan, he would do anything to get out of poverty. He didn't want to be an escort or a gigolo so he naturally chose gun. He was good. He climbed the hierarchy pretty fast, and he got into your attention. But little did you know, that you got his attention as well. When he found you, half broken on the stairs of a chaotic club, he knew that he was going to be your savior. But he didn't know how. You accepted him, you reeled him in. You loved him. And he was addicted, before long.

The night he told you about his scars, was the night you were mirrored against your own wretched doings. An eye for an eye, remember? When he told you exactly how he lose his parents, you feel you whole dark crime life crumbling down.

You watched him sleeping soundly, and you slowly peel yourself away from him. You planted a kiss on his forehead, his chin and finally, his lips, taking your own sweet time, tears trailing down your eyes. You let your hand slid down the side of his face, to his chest and rolled off the bed. You dragged your barefoot down the hallway, into his gun room. You caught his password the day before and entered them without a problem.

Jungkook woke up frowning when he felt you weren't next to him. Judging from the subsiding warmth, it hasn't been long since you've left. He was quickly struck by this extreme feeling of uneasiness. His feet took him to where he thought you'd be (but prayed you weren't). But no one answered his prayers because when he walked in, he saw you pointing a gun to your head. "Please don't play with that, it's very dangerous." He said, in a hurry. "Then, you do it. Do it, baby." You sniffed, smiling and he thought you went insane. "It shouldn't be this way." He breathed. "Yes it should, it was the only way that's acceptable for someone who had sinned." You hissed. You were already kneeling on the floor, in a silk robe that slips off of one shoulder, your dark purple lace bra peeking through.

"I load the gun on the table, all you have to do is: Point. Aim. And shoot, baby." You bit your lip, tears trickling down your face. Jungkook darted his eyes to the said gun. He snapped his head to you, and then to the gun. "Don't tell me..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Don't tell me the job is you.

"I deserve this, please baby, please...Take that gun and take me." You pleaded. Jungkook crept his hand on the said gun, and clicked them, ready. "Why do you want me to do this." Death in his voice. "I killed your parents. For killing mine. The Mafia family dies with me." You declared. "There's no other way to fix this, than my death. So please," you looked up at him. Jungkook blinks, his eyes were blood shot, he was shirtless, only trousers hanging low on his waist. He straightened his arm, the gun at the end, and pointed them at your forehead. You clenched your eyes shut, your trembling hands holding onto another gun against your temple. "Point. Aim. And shoot. Don't miss." You sniffed.

Bang..Bang!

Your ears buzzed, ringing into ambient sounds. You palm pressed on the floor of the gun room, supporting your self. The gun you held was shot away from your grasp. It reminded you how skilled Jungkook was, as a killer. He shot the gun you were holding with his very own. He carried your in his arms, exiting the gun room and lay you on the bed. "Not today." He pressed his lips on your forehead. You were not going to die young and beautiful. You were going to spend the rest of your life with him.

"Why did you let me live?" "I've lived without my parents. I've never lived without you." "But my past..." "You are not your parents. We are not our parents."

[strandsofcommonthread]

Lessons Learned by RPCVs in Nepal

On April 4, a new trainee in Peace Corps Nepal’s group N204 asked the following question:

What did you learn in Nepal that was incredibly useful while you were there...but no application back home? Like I learned that you can wedge yourself against a mountain pass and hold an umbrella out so cattle wont throw you off. And I leaned that ants will not attack food stored atop a (leaky) kerosene stove. Any others?

Within minutes, answers began pouring in from RPCVs who served 30-40 years ago, to current PCVs serving in Nepal.  Most of the responses, despite their variety, make me smile as they ring true to my own experiences here as a current PCV in Nepal, just two months away from my COS.  And although responses are still coming in, here are the responses received in the first 10 days following the initial question:

Take warnings about rhinos seriously.

Keep your 2nd floor windows closed during the day as the chickens will fly in and crap all over your bed and perhaps lay an egg.

Don't chew rice.

Always be prepared for an unanticipated holiday.

If you want to write down the combo lock on the door post outside your dera, use Roman numerals - nobody can figure them out.

Just how much one can do without.

The actual difference between wants and needs. Our trunks were delayed between Delhi and Kathmandu so I couldn't take it out to my post, in fact I didn't have it until three months later. La, I had survived without all the stuff I packed in the belief that it would be indispensable.

Don't touch food with your left hand.

Don’t teach 4th and 5th graders that the word for baby chicken in English is "chick."

How to lipnu.

That I have a fairly high tolerance for dysentery.

Priming those awful stoves. I refuse to use white gas backpacking stoves for this reason - I feel I've done that enough for one lifetime!

Learned I was incapable of instantly switching between Nepali and Hindi. It took me a day or two to purge Hindi from my Nepali or vice versa. (Back in the days when summer travel between my post and Kathmandu involved speaking Hindi while walking across the inner Terai and then two days on Indian buses and trains.)

Flies are attracted to light. Rats like block soap.

How to bake brownies in a dekshi oven.

How to make soup from goat skin, lungs and intestines.

The concept of "juto" and associated prohibitions of the left hand.

Not taking anything larger than one-rupee bills into the real hinterlands, circa 1970 when three rupees was the standard day's wage, although sahibs were expected to be a little more generous.

Muddy water will settle out overnight and be fit for drinking, after siphoning and purifying, the next morning.

How to plow with water buffalo.

From the class 3 English book I learned that "Mr. Sherchan has three cocks."

Hiking a peak in chappals (flip flops).

To run in chappals.

Spitting tobacco juice on your feet while wearing chappals in the jungle during monsoon keeps the leeches off.

Sleep under a mosquito net so the rats don't run across you at night.

You can make dahi (yogurt) out of the sweetened Nestle powdered milk as long as you have a starter.

How to make a projecting microscope out if scraps- milk cans, blown light bulbs, chapels and cheap lenses.

Covering my cup with my left elbow while waving my left hand over my plate to keep flies away, and eating with my right.

If you want to buy something, be the first to arrive at that particular pasal and and make a bid. You will get the best price of the day. (Morning business. I think the Nepali word is “bahoni.”)

By reading TATA trucks, I learned to "work like a coolie and live like a prince."

Applied hygroscopic principles when trekking by holding a small container of salt to sprinkle on engorged leeches. Salt absorbed the moisture and the leeches melted like the Wicked Witch of the East when Dorothy soaked her.

Speak Nepali all the time with everyone - especially the didis (women older than you) - you will make friends everywhere you go. People will look out for you. I cannot count the number of times I could not hike all the way back to my village before dark and people took me in for the night and fed me.

To completely shower with my lungi on and then dress in front of onlookers at the dera without showing anything from shoulder to below my knee. This has come in handy at the beach, stateside.

How to make rotis (flat breads).

I have found no application for knowing how to order a toomba (millet-based Nepali alcohol) back home.

Bathing politely at the well.

I have never had to bribe an Indian border guard again since PC days.

Lipnuing/mudding the floors of my dhera.

Putting your right turn signal on not to turn, but to indicate that the oncoming bus can pass on your right.

“Rato mato, chiplo bato.” (Red mud, slippery road.)

Didi taught me how to make daal bhaat. But in the states my husband makes it. Also, of course, how to eat well with my hands.

That chickens love eating my spit (and snot).

That chickens are evil.

Surfing the Himalaya on top of an overloaded TATA truck.

Identifying parts of a goat in the dark using my teeth.

Drinking Urvashi out of a warm coke bottle (on top of a TATA truck).

Steering rickshaws after a long bout of tomba.

Calming rickshaw drivers who are concerned that a tomba laagyo baideshi (foreigner drunk from tomba alcohol) is steering.

Fixing chappals with matches and getting local matches to light in order to fix chappals.

Bathing with only two mugs of lukewarm water.

Using a cattle prod to keep monkeys out of the food supplies.

To put my food containers on a plate of water to keep the ants out.

Learning how to wear a dhoti.

Throwing a casting net.

Skills I've used but not nearly often enough: Making raksi, chang, and yes one time even toomba.

I learned many ways to refuse another portion of rice.

Make jaard!

You don't need to say dhanyabad (thank you) for every transaction and there is no equivalent reply for thank you.

How to outrun a charging water buffalo, then climbing a tree to evade him.

Chortens and behind gompas were go to places when explosive diarrhea struck.

How to estimate the age of a pile of poop by seeing how many worms appeared. Few worms -- fresh. Many worms – older.

Real business gets done when you show up at an Under Secretary's home before morning bhat, not at his office or an embassy cocktail party.

A dhera directly above the buffalos' and goats' shelter can be cozy warm in winter.

How to refill a disposable Bic lighter.

How to do 1 and 2 while squatting.

How to fiddle with the knob and simultaneously prop a shortwave radio at just the right angle to pick up a broadcast.

To sling snot, Nepali style.

How to properly peel & suck the juice from ukhu (sugar cane) using your teeth.

Always store your med kit in your metal foot locker, lest while you're away from post for a few weeks, the rats will chew through the plastic of the kit and leave chewed up condoms scattered around your room.

Deet eats through duct tape (and mosquito nets).

Always walk on the upslope side of a yak!

How to jovially discuss poo composition over dinner.

How to hold a container of drinking water above my face, lean my head back a bit and swallow a steady stream coming from the spigot without choking or dowsing my shirt.

Once a child can walk she is potty-trained.

Peeing while standing so no one notices!

You can lay your bedding in hot sun and the fleas will flee.

The way to get rid of udus (bed bugs) in a rope bed is to submerge it for a sufficiently long time, weighted down with stones.

A bokha (un-neutered male goat, as opposed to a khusi, neutered male goal) that cries all night will be a bohka that is quickly cutnu-ed (cut) and eaten the next morning.

Filling up the unkara's (silver jugs) with water before bed is both good for the gods and helpful in having easy access to water to make morning chia (tea).

You can toilet train a baby to pee by (softly) shaking them over a bush and saying "sssssss sssssss ssssss.”

You can put most types of pot on the fire and prevent them from getting burnt if you first coat the bottom/sides of it with a mix of ash and water on it.

Curling all your fingers into your palm except your pointer finger and thumb, and flicking them up to indicate -- where are you going?)

The Nepali head bobble and pointing with my chin.

Running along the balance-beam-wide ledges of rice paddies without falling in (most of the time).

If you can't get through the border at one check point, go to the next one while your school committee goes through another.

How to plow with oxen.

How to boil and filter water buffalo milk.

Terai ants will get into your peanut butter even submerged in a bucket of water with a brick on top. They will sacrifice themselves to become a bridge for the others.

How to eat ants that found their way into your peanut butter.

How to bounce down a mountain without hurting your knees, feet or ankles to avoid Sahib’s knee (the Sherpa shuffle).

Not to use too much battery acid to cure/tan a rabbit pelt.

Ants attack my food even on my kerosene stove.

Hiring a rickshaw and having the driver sit in the back with your friends so you can pedal home, cause it looks like fun and somehow feels right.

Opening flimsy padlocks without a key by batting them around.

There's no line here! Elbows out and go for an opening!

If the river water is deep and current strong, you can cross as a chorus line, arms around each others' waists.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAVS prt 48? Start?

Shoving his way out the observation room, Keith was running. The stupid hall looped around, meaning other than breaking through the glass there was no way he could get to Lance as fast he wanted to. The moment Lance had begun to sink down, Keith was pushing Shiro out the way to get to his boyfriend. Shiro who was still in shock over what he'd heard. His adoptive brother breaking down into silent tears when Lance had thrown being raped back into Kre'el's face. The absolutely gutted expression in Shiro's face had been something Keith never wanted to see again. No doubt so much more made sense in Shiro's mind now. Lance's aversion to the Galra beyond weariness of strangers. The things he'd said about what Allura had done to his body... But Keith couldn't care about any of that. Not when Lance crumbled in on himself. He'd tried to fight Shiro to let him go the first time Lance had stood up, yet let himself be reassured that Lance was strong enough to do this. The second time he'd tried to bolt was Lance sat back down, the third when Lance begged Kre'el not to talk about the positive test. Shiro had no idea... but the words cut through Keith's heart. Soft growls coming from the back of his throat as he was forced not intervene. He hated being on the wrong side of glass. He hated that the didn't care that Kre'el's arm literally tore off before their eyes. He hated her stupid backstory, and the way it make him hurt. Rounding the corridor, Veronica was startled as Keith didn't slow, slamming his hand down on the hand pad and rushing into the room to his crying lover. Gathering Lance up in his arms, his boyfriend was limp. His eyes red rimmed as he stared past Keith's face. Tapping his face, Lance didn't rouse, his scent overwhelming Keith's rationality as he hurled him up with him as he rose to stand. He didn't know what would have been better for his Lance to hear, but he knew his boyfriend had shut down because he was trying to process everything he'd been told. Kre'el had developed feelings of friendship for Lance and tried to push him away, only to fail, or for her to have simply hated Lance all along and it'd been a lie. She must have been beyond desperate to turn around and try to kidnap both of them on that ship. Or had that been an act for Lasandi's benefit? What would have happened if Lance hadn't interfered with the wormhole? And where was this new home? They were supposed to be the last of them, her and Lasandi? Or was this another lie of hers? Another misdirection in her scheme? It wasn't like she could go anywhere. Medical staff were shuffling into the room as Keith tried to carry Lance out. Lance felt frozen in his arms, Shiro and Veronica were waiting outside the space, Veronica being scolded by a very worried Shiro. Turning to him both stared at Lance, Veronica's face morphing into something akin to fear "What happened!?" "I think it's a panic attack. I'm taking him back to my room" "I'll help..." Veronica might be Lance's sister, but his instincts were going crazy. Growling at her he exposed his sharpened teeth and slightly yellowed eyes, as he hiked Lance up in hold "I know you're his sister. I know you want to help him, but he doesn't need it. He's an adult. He's not your baby brother, but a fucking bounty hunter. He's not the same little kid. He doesn't need you coddling him. He doesn't need your help. I've got him. If you want to help, make sure that bitch doesn't die before I get my hands on her" Lance's body temperature continued to fall as Keith carried him back to his room. The Telula was too far, and Lance was clearly in shock. Getting him into the bathroom, Keith settled Lance down in the tub, cautious as he started undressing his lover. Water and being touched... Lance feared both and he didn't want to push him over into snapping with no control over his "fight or flight" instincts. Starting with his boots, he worked his way up, talking to Lance the whole time to let him know it was him. Lance continuing to stare past him, the occasional tear rolling down his cheek. Pouring in a generous douse of bubble bath that Lance's mother had bought for them on Earth, Keith started the taps, slowly warming the temperature until it was on the warm side of lukewarm. Lance still shaking too much for his liking. Cursing softly, Keith struggled his way out his boots, throwing them and his communicator across room toward the door, before moving Lance forwards to climb into the tub behind him. Sliding down, the half-Galra positioned his husband so Lance was laying along him, forehead tucked protectively just under his chin as he hushed his boyfriend gently, his features losing their Galra twinge the longer he held Lance. He really needed to stop swapping between the boyfriend and husband in his head. They'd agreed on boyfriend's while they worked this out, and this was definitely not worked out or something their friends needed to know in further detail. A varga or so passed before Keith was happy with Lance's body temper. His eyes had slid closed and he seemed to be sleeping off the strange panic attack. Nearly asleep himself, the knock that landed on the bathroom door jostled him back away. A growl on his lips as he held Lance tighter "What?!" "It's Shiro. Do you need help? You've been in there a while now" He didn't want Shiro in there. Lance wouldn't want Shiro in there, but he didn't know what had happened in his boyfriend's mind. Sure, Lance could get spacey, but this was like super spacey. He didn't know what the best way to handle this was or if it was normal for Lance to sleep this off. Or if it was safe for him to sleep it off. Making sure Lance's modesty was covered, Keith kissed his boyfriend hair "Come in... he's sleeping" Dried tear tracks remained on Shiro's face. His white hair a tussled mess, adding to his washed out appearance "How... how is he?" "Sleeping. I've never seen him like this before. That wasn't a usual panic attack. I don't know what to do" "Is his breathing and his pulse rate regular?" Placing his fingers on Lance's neck, he felt for his pulse "It's a little fast. He's breathing normally" "Then he's probably sleeping the attack off... I'll get you a towel for him. I doubt he wants me touching him" This is what Lance feared. Everyone treating him differently "No, but Shiro. You can't... you can't blame yourself and you can't treat him any differently. He's so fucking scared of you all finding out. He doesn't want to be treated any differently. Coran's helping him find a therapist he's comfortable with. The first one was a flop, and Coran doesn't have what Lance needs in a therapist... and..." Grabbing his towel off the rack, Shiro held it towards him "Keith, you're panicking. This is a conversation we should be having with a clear head. What do you want me to do?" "I want to sit him forward so I can get out, then get him out" "Do you have spare towels?" "In the cupboard" Bending down Shiro draped the towel over Lance's mid section, before guiding him up off of Keith's legs. Sliding out from behind Lance, water sloshed over the floor, Shiro supporting Lance longer enough for Keith to gather him up and lift him out the bathtub "I'll grab you out some towels" "I'll dry him off in here, then I can put him to bed out there. Can you wait outside for us?" "Want me to grab you something to wear?" They didn't have clothes in the bathroom... Lance was far too naked for his liking, and far too naked in front of Shiro, even with the towel covering most of him. Being runt sized to most Galra had its advantages, towels were practically single sheets "Yeah. Some sweats and shirts. He can take vargas to come back from a normal attack, but..." "Keith. I've seen his attacks before. I should have stepped in, but I thought he deserved answers to his questions... None of us could quite expect what Kre'el had been through" Glaring at Shiro, he didn't want her name spoken near Lance, let alone thought "That doesn't make her actions alright. You have no idea how hard it's been to bring him back... He's fucking fighting so hard to stay strong. He was out there with none of us for 6 phoebs... I want to fucking kill her... I want to killer but now I'm stuck sympathising with her... I can't take the truth away... and I have no idea what he's going to say when he wakes up" "For now, worry about getting dry and cleaned up. I'll find those clothes for you" "Thanks, Shiro" Keith knew he didn't need to ask Shiro to keep this to himself, but was sure they'd be having that conversation whether about what had happened he liked it or not "You're welcome. Anything either of you need, you know I'm always here for you" "We know... Um... maybe don't mention this to Lance. He's... he doesn't like people touching him when he's unconscious" "The secret's safe" Lance roused as Keith was drying his hair. His boyfriend was sitting on the toilet, the best place to keep him stable as he dried him down. Letting out a sniffle, Keith pulled the towel down to find Lance's pained eyes staring at him. Leaning in, the half-Galra kissed his boyfriend's forehead before resting his own against it "K-Keith...?" "You're ok, baby" "What... what happened?" Lance's voice was soft and broken, stuttered with disorientation "You had an attack. We're back in my bathroom. You were freezing cold so I got us warmed up. Do you understand me?" "She was a mother..." "Babe. Babe, hey. I need you here with me. Did you hear me?" Lance nodded, raising his head to kiss Keith's forehead before settling back against him "We're in your bathroom" "Good. That's good. We're going to have a little lie down until you're feeling up for talking again" "I feel drained" "Yeah, it was a bad attack. You were really out of it" "'m sorry" "It's ok. Let me just get you dry and warm" "And we'll cuddle?" "Yeah... Oh, quiznak!" Lance jumped lightly, whining at Keith's curse "What?" "I forgot to put Kosmo out last night... I don't know if he'll be here or with mum" "It's ok... I'm ok... I just need to process what she said... you and... oh..." Lance's breath hitched. Keith gave him the best smile he could "No. No, stay focused on me. It's ok" "He knows... too..." "We'll talk about it after you get some rest" "I'm so fucking stupid!" Lashing out, there was no real bite, but self derision "You're not..." "I am! She... she went through so much! She had to watch her daughter die... what happened to me..." Lance wasn't up for this, not when he was too out of it to "Babe. No. What happened to her, she had decaphoebs to find another way. Any other way. You're going to work yourself into another attack in you don't calm down for me" Sighing, Lance raised his left hand to his face Keith narrowly missing having his eye impaled on his fingers "Sorry. My head's all messed up" "It's alright. You're alright, just let me take care of things" Lance gave a small nod "Yeah... I feel... out of it"