#never threw up from the pain but definitely felt nauseous from it and definitely physically had to lay down cause i couldn't stand w/it

[vulpinesaint]

BEEN TWO DAYS NOW BOYS I THINK WE'RE IN THE CLEAR! NO MORE CURSE OF THE BLIGHTED I AM FREE... IMAGINE A WORLD WHERE TESTOSTERONE TAKES ALL THE PAIN AWAY...

[dirtydobrik]

fractured ankle - j.w.

plot: you break your ankle while on a hike with your boyfriend jeff and he wants to take care of you

word count: 1830

author’s note: sorry for not posting lately, i’ve had such bad writer’s block and didn’t like anything i was writing about david, so i decided to try something new and write about jeff! 

masterlist

“Baby, get up,” Jeff whispered, nudging you softly. He was standing over you, already dressed for the hike he wanted to take you on.

It was still dark outside and you blinked rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the light of the bedside lamp Jeff had just turned on. You gave him a quick kiss and got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to get ready. You splashed cold water on your face to wake yourself up since you were never up this early, and the only reason you were was because Jeff had been begging you to come on an early morning hike to see the see the sunrise for a while now.

You brushed your teeth and changed into leggings and a sports bra before meeting Jeff in the kitchen. He was filling water bottles and gave you a small smile before tossing you a protein bar to eat before leaving. Jeff tossed the water bottles and a few other snacks into his backpack before glancing at the time on his phone and insisting that you had to leave in the next few minutes. You sat on the floor near the front door and tightly tied the laces of your sneakers, reaching your hand up for Jeff to help you up. He rolled his eyes at you, but took your hand in his and pulled you up.

You followed him downstairs and hopped into the passenger seat of his SUV. The roads were empty as darkness still covered the city. Jeff placed his hand on the gear shift and you rested yours on top of his. The stillness of the city was something you hardly ever saw, but it was comforting.

After a short drive, you pulled into the parking lot of the trail Jeff wanted to take you on. You got out of the car and followed Jeff's instructions of basic stretches to do to warm up before hiking.

Much to your dismay, the hike was a lot harder and steeper than Jeff had promised it would be. The path was windy and the plants were overgrown, leaving it narrow and difficult to navigate in the dim light.

Jeff was walking in front of you, and you carefully followed his steps. The steep dirt path had many large rocks that seemed to appear out of nowhere. You tried to focus on following Jeff's exact steps to avoid the rocks, but you lost your footing trying to avoid one. You stumbled backwards and fell over the large rock you had tried to avoid a few moments ago. Your left ankle got caught underneath you and you heard a loud snap as all of your body weight landed on your ankle. You yelped in agony as you tried to stand up before collapsing back on to the ground and grabbing your ankle in pain. Jeff was a few feet in front of you, but your screams gained his attention.

“Baby, are you alright?” Jeff asked, concerned as he sprinted over to you. His face went pale as he noticed the swelling around your foot. You clutched your ankle, sobbing from the immense pain.

“It hurts,” you whined, tears streaming down your face. "It really hurts."

“It’ll be okay,” Jeff promised, untying your sneaker and pulling it off. He pushed the hem of your leggings up to expose the ankle. You took in a sharp breath and felt nauseous looking at the bruising around your foot.  

He searched through his backpack for an ice pack or an elastic bandage in his first aid kit, but had neither. He handed you a water bottle that had ice cubes in it and told you to take them out and wrap them in his t-shirt to hold against the swelling.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asked, even though he knew it was most likely broken. You shook your head, knowing you couldn’t, or shouldn't, put any weight on it.

Jeff paced back and forth, wondering what to do. You were nearly to the top of the hill, and the path was too steep for him to carry you down and too narrow for him to help hold you up as you hopped down.

It was still early so the trails weren't busy, meaning you probably wouldn't run into another hiker to help you out. Jeff picked you up and moved you off of the path, so you wouldn't be in the way if someone did happen to come up.

After half an hour and many failed calls from the lack of reception, Jeff decided he was going to have to carry you down. He had you put his backpack on and you managed to climb on to his back. You clung tightly to him, scared that he was going to drop you. When it got too steep, he had you stand on your good ankle and he would lift you from one clear spot to another.

You eventually made it back to the parking lot, and Jeff had you sit in the backseat to elevate your ankle. He drove you to the nearest hospital, stopping at a CVS to pick up some painkillers since you didn’t know how long you’d be waiting to see a doctor.

You draped your arm over his shoulder and hopped into the ER. Jeff helped you sit down before going to check in with the front desk. He returned with a clipboard of paperwork for you to fill out and a cup of coffee.

"You doing okay, baby?" Jeff asked, kissing your forehead. You nodded, even though the pain was insufferable.

After about an hour of waiting, you were brought over to an empty bed. The nurse checked all of your vitals and a little while later, the doctor came in.

"Well, it's definitely broken," the doctor said, pointing to the clean break in your bone on the scans. "You'll need surgery to realign the bone," he continued, and Jeff reached over to hold your hand as the surgery was explained to you.

Jeff promised he wouldn't go anywhere and kissed the top of your head before a team of nurses wheeled you off to prep you for surgery.

You woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later and Jeff was sitting by your side. Your leg was elevated and you had a cast around your ankle. A nurse came in to check on you a couple of times before the doctor came in to say they wanted to keep you overnight to monitor you post-op.

A few days after you were able to leave the hospital, you and Jeff were cuddling in his bed in his apartment. The contents of the suitcase you were now living out of were scattered across the floor of his bedroom. Jeff had insisted that you stayed with him, at least until you were confident using the stairs with crutches, since your apartment was on the fourth floor and your building didn't have an elevator.

“What are you doing?” you asked as Jeff pulled away from cuddling your to riffle through the drawer of his bedside table. A few moments later, Jeff revealed a thick black sharpie. He uncapped it and motioned for you to move the blanket so he could draw on your cast.

Your rolled your eyes at his childish behavior, but pulled the blanket off. You positioned yourself to be propped up against the headboard, placing a pillow under your cast. Jeff was on the other end of the bed, hoovering over your foot as he doodled mindlessly on the plaster.

You took your phone out to capture this moment, adding the picture to your Instagram story to let everyone know that you were in good hands with Jeff.

After a while, your cast was covered in small pictures and short notes. There was little room let for anyone else to write on it, but Jeff was pleased with his work.

 You were restless all night, constantly tossing and turning, hardly able to get any sleep. Even though it was still early, you were wide awake and decided to try to make yourself breakfast. You swung your legs down, using the nightstand for support as you balanced on one foot. You reached for your crutches, determined to master using them today. You were tired of relying on Jeff for everything and wanted to be able to do things on your own. Your goal was to get from the bedroom to the kitchen without getting caught on anything or stumbling.

You let out a frustrated groan and threw one of your crutches on to the ground after the bottom of the crutch stuck to the wooden floor and you pushed yourself forward without having the support following you.

“What’s goin on, baby?” Jeff asked, stumbling out of the bedroom, still half asleep. He was holding a white t-shirt in his hands and was only wearing the pair of boxers he had slept in.

You were standing on one foot, the other kicked up behind you, holding on to the counter top for stability.

“Nothing,” you muttered, turning around and attempting to hop to the fridge so you wouldn't have to put any weight onto your ankle. Jeff sighed, knowing you were lying. He swung the fridge door open and took out the carton of eggs he knew you were reaching for. “I don’t need you to do everything for me,” you snapped, not realizing how aggressive or angry you sounded. Jeff’s eyes widening at your remarks.

“I’m just trying to help out,” Jeff said quietly. You really did appreciate his efforts, but he was driving you crazy. He was constantly around and practically refused to let you do anything by yourself.

"I know you are, but I don't need to be babied, Jeff," you insisted, and he nodded. He understood where you were coming from, but that didn't stop him from leaning down to pick up the crutch you had thrown on top the floor. You shot him a death glare since you easily could've picked it up yourself, but you still took it from him.

"I'm not babying you. I'm just taking care of you. You should be focused on physical therapy and walking with the crutches, you shouldn't have to worry about anything else."

"But how am I supposed to do that when you hardly ever let me get out of bed?" you argued, making a point. Jeff didn’t have a comeback, instead he just apologized for being overbearing and overprotective, promising to let you do more from now on. "It's okay, Jeff. I love you anyways," you smiled, watching Jeff's face beam at the words you had just said. It was the first time either of you had said them aloud, even though you had both been feeling it for a while.

"I love you, too," he grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a soft kiss.

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (Part 12)

A/N: I altered the timeline & updated the last chapter w the correct weeks!! sorry for any confusion that causes. I need to be accurate or it’d bother me lol 

ALSO: end the stigma surrounding miscarriage/infertility. your feelings and experiences are valid. 

Tw: miscarriage, cursing, slight spoilers for the episode “200”

word count: 4.4 k

masterlist

series masterlist

“It was a Thursday, no I guess technically it was a Friday since it was 3 am. You woke me up, poking my shoulder gently until I stirred. 

“This is going to sound weird but did you...?”

I was groggy and sore and cranky. It was 3 am, and you woke me up. Of course I was annoyed. My back was killing me, “Spence, what?”

“Did you pee yourself?” You whispered, and I laughed. 

“What? No?” 

That’s when I shifted to roll over and face you. That’s when I felt it. It was like a freight train hitting me. I was dizzy and nauseous and could suddenly feel every part of my body aching. 

“Then, t-then what’s this?” 

You threw the covers off of us. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so scared. 

I just stared at it. Our gray sheets darkened. I had no emotions. No instincts. No movement. You’d think I’d have an intuition of what I needed to do. My maternal instinct would’ve kicked in, or I guess it wouldn’t have because I was no longer a mother. 

I don’t know how I didn’t wake up earlier. I keep wracking my brain for a reason why I didn’t wake up. Why did you have to wake me up? Why didn’t I just know? I should’ve just known. I should’ve had a feeling, but I didn’t have any feelings. Because that’s what shock is. It’s nothing. It’s staring at everything and feeling absolute nothingness. 

It’s weird to think that that night we went to bed, laughing and chatting and snuggling close to each other. It’s weird to think that we had no idea what was coming. We were living in ignorant bliss. It’s sad that that was our last night we spent together as a whole family unit. I wish I knew about lasts before they happened, that way I could savor the moment. Soak it all up. Bask in the warmth of you. 

We fell asleep as we usually do did, you spooning me from behind, one hand on my belly the other on my back. You whispering that you loved me, you hoped I slept well; me telling you that the papaya sized thing in my uterus would make sure that I did not sleep well. You’d laugh, your breath would tickle my neck, then I’d laugh, and we’d finally calm down and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

That’s the last time we fell asleep like that. I wish I knew. I would have appreciated the little things. I would’ve appreciated the way you rubbed little shapes on my skin, the way you dealt with me needing no comforter because I was always hot and sweaty, even though you run cold. I wish I could go back and appreciate every one of our lasts, just so I could hold onto those memories a little while longer. But I guess I’ve held onto them long enough if I’m giving them all back to you. 

Speaking of, what is your item for this letter? Go ahead. Go look. It isn’t going to be what you expect.”

He was much calmer than he was before. The numbness had returned. He felt kind of okay actually. He felt like that was the last bit of emotion he had left. But then again, he felt that way in letter four. He felt that way in letter seven. He knew it wouldn’t last, but he was determined to savor it, grind through the last few letters while he was still numb, then hopefully decide what to do while his head was clear. 

He reached in, surprised at what you had chosen. 

“Yes, this is definitely not what you expected. I’m sure you expected another baby memento, or maybe an ultrasound picture. But like I said, all the baby stuff is gone. And I’m keeping the ultrasounds. I’ll mail you copies, I promise. And unlike you, I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises. 

Now to anyone who doesn’t know PG, this little stuffed unicorn looks like it was for the baby. But when you know her as well as we do, you know it was for me. Penelope decorates her desk with trinkets and light-up frogs and flower pens because they help her see the bad. They make it easier. By giving me this, she was giving me something to protect me from the horror I would have to face. And for a little while, it actually worked. I hope it’ll do the same for you.”

He laughed, an honest, genuine, laugh. He held the stuffed thing in his hands, leaning back onto the bed. It was white with rainbow hair and a glittery purple horn. He remembered when Penelope brought it in the room, delicately placing it on your bedside table.

“She’ll need this, and so will you,” She said. Spencer just nodded and watched her disappear. 

“I will spare you the grisly details, Spence; you were there. I will just mention the main ideas. 

As I sat there, staring at the mess that had formed in front of me, you got up. You were visibly shaking as you turned on the lights and called an ambulance. Your face was gray. I’ve never seen it that color. I couldn’t focus on anything except you and the pain. God, the pain. It radiated from my abdomen, up into my heart and festered there. It was a different kind of pain, unlike any I’d ever experienced before. Then came the adrenaline, pumping through my body at an insane rate. Then I felt foggy, like I was watching what was happening to me on a tv screen. It was the closest thing to an out-of-body experience I’ve ever had.  

You knelt down next to me, holding my torso. We didn’t speak. We didn’t cry. We were both in shock.

I don’t even know what you said to the people on the phone. I assume you told them what you had already diagnosed. You told them the truth: I was miscarrying. 

It still hurts to say. I still have a hard time saying the word out loud. “Pregnancy loss,” “Spontaneous abortion,” “Miscarriage,” none of the words feel right. None of them feel like they accurately describe what happened to us that night. 

They put me on a stretcher, and that’s when it became real. I was crying, holding your hand so tight I thought I’d cut off blood supply. My other hand was on my torso, and I was begging whatever Gods are above to feel a kick. Just one little kick, or shift, or movement.

I didn’t. 

You stayed strong for me. You always were so good under pressure. You told the EMT every detail of my health history, while I was a blubbering mess. You called Hotch. You called Emily. You called my dad. You kept it together. You did everything right. God, Spencer, even from that very first day when I paid you to do my paperwork, you always did everything right. You’re the good one. You put nothing but good karma out into the world, so why do you keep getting bad karma back?

It’s ridiculous really, because we did do everything right. I took my prenatals and only drank water and green smoothies and I ate sweet potatoes and legumes and kale chips. I resisted the urge to eat nothing but Baja Blasts and Big Macs. I’m honestly angry. I’m angry because you and I, two good people, don’t get to have a baby, but some of these unsubs we encountered do? What kind of logic is that? What kind of world allows that to happen? What kind of God? A really shitty one, that’s who. 

Eventually they literally peeled you off of me in the ER. They had to make sure I wasn’t getting an infection, and that I had—God I can’t say it. They had to see if they needed to help me through it, if you know what I mean. They did. I had to get a d&c. 

I spent most of the time sobbing at the nurses. They all just held my hands and smoothed my hair. I begged for you, but they said no. I argued with them. I said I needed you there next to me. I didn’t want them to hold my hands and smooth my hair, I wanted you. But they insisted that the room had to stay clean. Eventually I was all cried out and they put me under. 

When I woke up this unicorn was next to me, staring me in the face and letting me know our friends were there. They knew. They had my back. This stuffed thing would help me face the bad that was coming. It would protect me. 

It was about eight. You pulled your chair up next to me, your hand in mine, head on my bed. I felt like shit. That’s the only way to put it. Anesthesia makes me nauseous as is, couple that with the night I had? I felt awful, and I felt it everywhere. 

When I woke up, you stirred too. Your eye bags were deep and dark, you still had on pajamas with some unknown fluids on them, and your hair was a wreck. 

I ran my hands through it, a force of habit, “Hi.”

“Hey,” you croaked. 

Our eyes met, and we both just fell apart. Tears spilled over so easily. We were two broken hearts in one hospital room. 

You crawled into the bed with me, making sure to be gentle and not hurt me, “Is this real life?” 

“Yeah, Love. I’m afraid it is,” you whispered into my hair. 

“I-It doesn’t feel like real life.”

You sighed, and shifted so we were both sitting upright, your arm around my shoulder, “I know. I wish it wasn’t.”

“W-What happened? What did I do? I th-thought I did everything right?”

You kissed my tears on my cheeks, “You did. You couldn’t have done anything to stop this. It was a chromosomal abnormality, trisomy sixteen.”

“What does that m-mean?”

“It means she had three copies of chromosome sixteen, which makes proteins in the body. She never would’ve—“

“Stop,” I said, not harshly or mean, just a sad moan, “I don’t want to know.” I took three shaky, deep breaths, trying to calm myself down, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, there’s nothing we could’ve done. We’ll get through this, together, I promise.”

“I promise,” I said, and you kissed my temple, arms wrapped around me tightly, as if you could physically hold me together as I fell apart. You held me like that for a while, before we both fell asleep again in that teeny tiny hospital bed.

The unicorn wasn’t the one who protected me that night, it was you. You protected me more than I ever gave you credit for. I wish I could’ve stayed strong for you, the way you stayed strong for me. Thank you for that, Spencer. I mean it.”

Spencer got up from bed and felt lightheaded. Realizing he hadn’t eaten yet, he grabbed a mess of junk from the fridge and sat on the kitchen floor up against the dishwasher. The metal of the appliance was cold against his back, the ground below him was hard. It just felt right. 

He did keep his calm the whole time. He never cracked, not until the end when he cried with you. He spoke calmly and quietly when the team showed up. Garcia cried more than he did. Emily said she was on the next flight, ready and willing. Your dad didn’t say more than a few awkward and sad words. Morgan looked terrified. Hotch had his eyebrows knit together, as if with enough thinking, he could make the situation away. JJ stood silently, knowing the feeling, but not mentioning it. The only time he wavered was when Alex held him; the tears reached the surface but never spilled over. Everyone just circled around him, trying to protect him from the scariness that he’d face outside of their bubble. 

The nurse came up to him, telling him you were out and okay. It was a chromosomal abnormality, nothing could’ve prevented it. With some rest, you’d be okay physically, but mentally it would be a long road, for both of you. He nodded. The world felt like it was spinning. He couldn’t think straight. The walls seemed to move in around him, even as he stood still. 

“Reid, it’s mandatory. Four weeks. Minimum,” Hotch said, Spencer not hearing a word of it. 

“O-Okay. Fine, whatever. I just, I need to see her.” 

Derek reached out to stop him, “You know she isn’t going to be the same, kid.”

Spencer shook him off, “I know.”

But he didn’t know to what extent. He didn’t know that you’d still look pregnant, because your belly doesn’t automatically deflate. He didn’t know that your grieving process would be different from the way it was after Emily’s fake death. How naive of him to not realize that he’d grieve differently this time too. He thought he’d want to cry and talk and eat blueberry pancakes, just like last time. He didn’t realize that when a piece of you just suddenly stops being a piece of you, it’s jarring. It's the five stages of grief all at once and in the wrong order. It’s crying at a Pampers commercial and being angry when you see new moms. It’s people giving you soft looks of pity everyday. It’s lonely. It’s sad. It’s the worst heartbreak one can imagine. In short—it really fucking sucks. 

Spencer had no idea just how much it really fucking sucked. 

He saw you there, your skin drained of its warm color and tired, and stopped in his tracks. What would he say? What would he do? How would he approach you? How would he tell you that half of his heart just left his body? 

Rossi was the one who saw him stop at the threshold of your door. He saw Spencer pace back and forth, still in bloody pajamas. He saw Spencer stare at you, hands balled into fists like he was ready to fight the powers that be. 

He came up behind him, placing a kind hand on his shoulder, “Spencer, listen to me.”

Spencer didn’t react, he just kept staring at you, “I had a son, with Caroline. He died the same day he was born. I know what this feels like, Kid. I do. Trust me, it’ll get easier. I promise, but only if the two of you lean on each other.”

Spencer nodded dumbly, still not really processing anything around him, but with a nudge from Rossi he entered your room. He found his way to the bedside chair. 

“Hey, Y/N, I know you can’t hear me. The anesthesia hasn’t worn off yet. I just want to—no need to tell you that I love you. I’m not mad at you. I’m heartbroken, but here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Remember how fast that narrative changed, Spence? 

We got home from the hospital that night and I grabbed a tub of ice cream. I figured losing the baby counted as ‘one of those days’. I thought we would eat in silence and it would make it all okay, like every other day. 

When I pulled it out, you scratched your head, “Not tonight. I’m tired.”

I nodded, feeling heavy and sore and weak, “Okay, see you upstairs?” 

You nodded again, and I put the tub away. I figured you were going to talk to the moon for a while, and I was going to let you. 

I fell asleep almost immediately, you never joining me. 

I got up and you were on the couch, making some lame excuse of how you were reading and must have fallen asleep there by accident.

“You okay today?” I asked you. 

You shrugged, “We won’t be okay for a lot of days.”

I knew you were right. It was a stupid question to even ask. I nodded. 

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, weak, empty. Like I need to sleep more.”

You tucked my hair behind my ear, and kissed my cheek. 

“I love you,” I said, and you responded with, “Love you too, I need to shower.”

Now there is a distinct difference between ‘love you’ and ‘I love you.’ Losing the ‘I’ loses the intimacy. It removes yourself from the statement. You removed yourself from that statement, and from me. 

That first day we talked a little. We mostly cried and you watched me sleep. But then suddenly it was like you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t want to share a bed. You didn’t even want to look at me. You didn’t want to be in that place. I don’t blame you, Spencer, I don’t. I didn’t want to be there either.

I understand why you blamed me. We needed to blame someone, because no way could life be that cruel to a person. I blamed myself for the loss for a while too. No matter how many times people said “it’s not your fault” it still felt like my fault. I still feel like it’s my fault, like maybe I could’ve done something to prevent this. It doesn’t matter how many support groups or therapists tell me I can’t blame anyone. How can I believe that when the person who means the most to me in this world feels like it I’m the only person to blame?”

He sighed. He never wanted to blame you, but some part of him did anyway. It was easier that way. If he blamed you, he wouldn’t have to blame himself like he always did. But, sometimes there is no one to blame but life itself. 

“Emily showed up that next day. She came in, in all her black bangs glory and held me. She had ice cream with me. She let me cry on her shoulders until I couldn’t anymore. She watched cheesy tv with me and distracted me with stories of her varied lovers in London. She supported me the way only a best friend could, the way I wish you did. Then she had to leave; London calls. And Derek took her place. He would come by when he could, usually with takeout that I couldn’t stomach. If he couldn’t come by, he’d always text or call. He always checked in, which I appreciated, but every moment with them was a moment spent wishing I was with you. 

You. For the first week or so, I saw you everyday. We even went to the beach, but when we came home? I tried to talk but we usually didn’t. More accurately, I spoke, and you stared at me. Then you started coming less and less and returning fewer and fewer of my calls. At the end, I think I saw you maybe once every other day, just for you to come and grab clean clothes or paperwork. God, everyone did your job except for you because you were too busy doing your real job. The job Hotch told you to take a few weeks off from. The job that I actually did take a few weeks off from, because my body was in disrepair. 

It’s not fair to sit here and tell you that you didn’t cater to my every grieving need correctly. It’s not fair for me to tell you how to grieve either. I respect what you did, Spence. I respect that you poured yourself into work. I know it isn’t fair that I wish you spent half that energy on us. But you know what actually isn’t fair? The way I’d tell people “we lost her,” but you’d say “Y/N lost her.” You know what wasn’t fair? The fact that you ran away from me and hid away in your apartment, doing God knows what with God knows who, after we promised to lean on each other, to heal together. You refused to do it. I wanted to. I tried to. I reached out. I called. I texted. 

But, I’m getting ahead of myself now. You still have three letters to go.”

Spencer glanced over at the box. It was nearly empty, just three stray items and three stray envelopes staring at him. He remembered the minute he set foot in that place, he felt the same way he did before he entered your hospital room. Frozen. Fear. Trepidation. 

Everything looked foreign. The walls that were once a saturated blue color looked grayer. The mug on the counter didn’t look like it was his. The pictures on the walls were of foreign people from a foreign land. The bed didn’t look like his bed. He felt like he was living on a movie set, where everything was a prop and everyone was a fake. 

He tried to stay. He went into that first night with the intentions of laying next to you in bed, watching tv, rubbing your back, and giving you water to make up for the amount of tears you shed. He really, honestly, tried, but the first thing he saw when he opened the front door was that picture of the two of you from Rossi’s house, holding up the onesie. Then he made his way into the kitchen, where the ultrasounds were pinned to the fridge with smiley face magnets. Then he went upstairs and passed the nursery. 

It had barely been started; all you’d done was paint it a soft, sage green. 

“This color is called ‘Soothing Sage’,” You said, handing Spencer a roller, “I sure hope this soothes her, because if she’s as active outside as she is inside, we have a problem.” 

“It will soothe her. That’s why I love green,” He said, grabbing the roller and starting to paint, as you sat on the floor trying to untangle Garcia’s homemade jungle animal mobile. 

“I thought you liked purple.”

He smiled, “ I do, but green brings balance and harmony. From a color psychology perspective, it is the great balancer of the heart and the emotions, creating equilibrium in the body. And from a color symbolism perspective, green is the color of growth, spring, renewal and rebirth.”

You laughed, “My favorite color is teal. What’s the color psychology for that?”

“Teal is a blend of blue and green, so naturally it combines both blue's tranquility and stability with green's balance and harmony.”

“I like it, I like it, how about orange? What does that mean?”

“Orange? Well, it’s bright and brings feelings of excitement, enthusiasm, and warmth—“ He cut himself off, turning from his almost done wall to find you eating more chips, “Stop distracting me!”

You put your hands up in surrender, “You’re too easy to distract Reid.”

He smiled, paint already all over him, as you spent the rest of the afternoon talking about what rocker you should buy and where the other painting Garcia made should hang. 

When he passed the room, the walls a pretty green, mobile in the corner over a few stray Ikea boxes, he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t act like everything in that place didn’t make him want to scream into an abyss. He couldn’t play the dutiful boyfriend. He couldn’t walk around and not feel haunted. He was being haunted, not by the past, but by a future that should’ve been. 

He tried to explain it to you, but you two were on different pages. Hell, you were reading two different books that were in completely different languages. Communicating became impossible, and if he’s being honest with himself, he was kind of happy that it did. It made it easier in the moment, but worse in the long run. 

“I miss us. I miss you. I miss her. I know we never met her but I could feel her. She was strong, definitely a soccer player. Maybe she would’ve had our recessive athletic genes. She was part of me, and I loved her from the first time I threw up. I could tell she loved you. She moved whenever you spoke to me. She loved to rustle and shift when you laid on my lap and whispered to her. She was a daddy’s girl. That’s what you deserved. I’m sorry my body couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry that I couldn’t even do that right. I’m sorry couldn’t be what you wanted or what you needed, especially when you were all I ever wanted or needed. I don’t know how many more ways to show you that I’m sorry.

You left me the day we lost her Spence, I know you did. I lost you and her in one fell swoop. How do I cope with that?”

Spencer put the letter down, cradling the unicorn in his hands. He didn’t need you to apologize anymore. You’d done enough of that, so did he. He stopped being angry and bitter and spiteful the second you told him to go. You yelled at him to finish packing his bags and get out, since that’s clearly what he wanted.

That wasn’t what he wanted. He was just lost. He was confused. He felt like nothing had a purpose anymore. He understood what Gideon said in the letter he left him all those years ago. He questioned everything he thought he ever knew. He wanted to view it as a lesson, something he could learn from, but the hole in his heart wouldn’t let him.

He had every intention of coming back to you when he was ready, but when he finally was, you shut the door. He lost himself the moment he lost her, and that made him lose you too. How’s he supposed to cope with that?

Part 13!

---------

Taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight21​ @goldentournesol​ @rainsong01​ @thelifeofadumbbitch​ @swimmingfishwobblersludge @youre-a-wallflower-charlie​

[makaylajadewrites]

Part 9: Demons

Hi everyone, welcome back to the Bria Monique series! It's been quite some time since I've posted anything in this series, and although this is just a drabble/is kind of rough, I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3 here

Summary: Spencer was not a stranger to having enemies. He had been dealing with them all his life and had them for as long as he could remember. Even as a child when he would walk down the street from his house to the bus stop a few blocks away, wearing his heavily scuffed Converse and old leather backpack that once belonged to his father, he was looked at like some kind of natural phenomenon. But the attention wasn’t always innocent and harmless, and he learned that the hard way through the ruthless bullying he suffered through his high school experience.

Tags: Hate speech, Homophobia, Potential transphobia, Bullying, Coming of Age

Word Count: 2665

-

Spencer was not a stranger to having enemies. He had been dealing with them all his life and had them for as long as he could remember. Even as a child when he would walk down the street from his house to the bus stop a few blocks away, wearing his heavily scuffed Converse and old leather backpack that once belonged to his father, he was looked at like some kind of natural phenomenon. The sensation of eyes on him was nothing new, because at first it had always been harmless, curious onlookers left confused and amazed at the sight of eight year old Spencer Reid, sitting in a Las Vegas public high school’s library soaking up the contents of a quantum physics textbook. But the attention wasn’t always innocent and harmless, and he learned that the hard way through the ruthless bullying he suffered through his high school experience.

To think that teenagers, some almost six years older than him, bullied him to feel a sense of power was sickening when he thought back on it, but he supposed it was a natural part of Darwin’s theory of evolution at play; survival of the fittest, and Spencer was far from the fittest. He was physically small at that age, as any ten year old would be, with knobby knees and too-small hands, but that only made him a primary target for bullies.

The goal post incidence would forever remain engrained in his memories, and even though it had been over ten years ago, Spencer would never forget the pain, humiliation, and shame he felt after that day. He had been so uncomfortable in his own skin, thinking things about himself that twelve year olds shouldn’t have to think. He didn’t like his body, and had come to hate it more and more as the years went by.

College should have been where the bullying ended, but it didn’t. Twelve - almost thirteen - year old Spencer trudged into his first ever class at Caltech with those same dirty Converse and his mother’s old peacoat since he was now tall enough to wear it without it going below his knees, and the looks were still the same. Some were harmless, others malicious; he told himself it was normal to be hated by those who didn’t understand him. He came to expect it, and at the tender age of fifteen, he began to realize another aspect of himself that would bring him hatred from others for the rest of his life.

Spencer was gay.

He didn’t know what exactly made him realize it. He had been sitting at the desk in his individual dorm room one day (since the university thought he was too young to dorm with another student) with an Abstract Algebra textbook open in front of him while he scratched out impossible equations in his notebook. And suddenly his hand seized movement, his eyes rose, and he looked out the window into the cool December air. A young man was walking across the street two stories below, with olive skin and unruly brown curls, and when he glanced up towards Spencer’s figure in the window. He smiled, and Spencer was breathless.

That was all it took. He had never thought about it much in the past, since he was so heavily caught up in his studies and more concerned with his education than anything else, but the minute those emerald eyes locked with his own, he was reminded of the fact that all human beings crave affection from someone, and in Spencer’s case, he just so happened to wish for it to be a man.

He was once again faced with self-deprecating thoughts, fearing the judgement that would certainly come his way should others know of his identity. He felt like he was constantly holding his breath whenever he went out in public, like he was one second away from screaming out to the world ‘I’m gay,’ just to get the pain and humiliation over with. He didn’t know much about gay culture, and as intelligent as he was, he didn’t know much about gay history either. So as well as doing research on his own, he took a course called Queer History the next semester. In that class, he met Ethan, and together, they explored their sexualities and Spencer had never been more sure of anything in his entire life. He was gay, and that was okay.

They drifted apart naturally, with no hard feelings or animosity, and even today, they remained friends, only contacting each other occasionally. Reid would sometimes pay his old friend a visit if the team ever traveled down to New Orleans, and seeing Ethan behind a piano always seemed to calm him. He was truly talented, and although many chastised him for wasting his intelligence in order to be a jazz musician, Reid couldn’t fault him in the slightest. He was doing what he loved, being who he loved, and that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t until Spencer met Derek that he began to think a little differently about himself. He had always had so many issues with his self esteem and the way he viewed his body, and even before their relationship turned into something more than a platonic friendship, Derek went out of his way to make Spencer feel better about himself. He called him ‘pretty boy,’ encouraged him to go on dates often, feigned jealousy regarding Spencer’s intelligence. When they became a couple, those efforts increased tenfold. Sometimes with no real reason he would compliment Spencer, throwing in pet names as a form of shared intimacy between them. They would make beautiful love together at night, writing poetry with their lips, composing symphonies with their joined bodies. He would wake up the next day in bed with Derek, and Derek would greet him with a deep voice that creeped over his skin like ivy, saying, “Good morning, beautiful.”

Over the years, those looks remained of course, but for the most part, he had learned to block it out, because he had proved time and time again, both to himself and others, that he was undeserving of needless judgements. He was fine the way he was, and while nobody was perfect, he had grown comfortable with himself. Of course he still had moments of doubt and he was still occasionally dysphoric of his body, appearance, personality, but Derek, ever the loving partner, would guide his thoughts in the other direction, and with gentle kisses and soft murmurs, Reid would feel better. Performing in drag definitely helped too, because a drag queen could not be a good performer if she wasn’t confident. But he lacked the confidence of Bria Monique in himself, and sometimes he wished he had merely an ounce of the confidence she possessed. But he was getting better, slowly but surely.

Which was why when he walked into the bullpen alongside Morgan on a seemingly normal morning, a sheer layer of lip gloss coating his lips and a dusting of pale pink blush over his high cheekbones, he nearly stumbled over himself when all eyes seemed to lock onto him. The whispers started, subtle in nature, but they pierced through his brain like a dagger, and not even Derek’s hand on the small of his back could erase the overwhelming sense of shame that swelled in the pit of his stomach. They knew. Word must have spread like wildfire, and it certainly didn’t help that most of the bureau followed along with the BAU’s cases, since they played out like a police procedural sometimes.

What bothered him the most though was that David Rossi stood just outside of his office, leaning over the railing and watching the scene play out like it was some sort of entertainment, a neutral, unreadable expression on his face. Spencer felt nauseous all of a sudden, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. He pushed away from Derek, not with malice, but with the need to simply get away from prying eyes, and his closest refuge was the restroom just outside of the bullpen. He quickly found a stall and threw himself to the ground before that porcelain throne, dispelling the contents of his stomach into the bowl and feeling a sob force its way from his throat. He hardly even noticed Morgan who was there with him almost immediately after, holding his chestnut curls back with one hand and rubbing his back, just between his shoulder blades, with the other.

“It’s okay… You’re gonna be okay, baby,” Derek said softly to him, hating the sight of his lover crying so openly. “Let’s get you cleaned up… We can talk to Hotch about this, get it sorted out.” And while he knew that Derek was only trying to be reassuring, it still hurt like a bitch to become the focus of all of that negative attention once again. He didn’t say anything at first, reaching blindly for toilet paper which Derek was happy to supply him with before wiping his mouth and nose with it, using another piece for his eyes. Morgan managed to get him out of the stall and standing in front of the row of sinks, he was faced with his reflection, and he was disgusted with himself. He turned the water on, splashing it on his face and practically scrubbing the light makeup off of his face with his fingertips. He looked up slowly, catching the dark bags under his eyes and other imperfections on his face, and he broke down once again. People couldn’t accept him either way. Derek pulled him in, and Spencer melted into the embrace as sobs shook his shoulders.

“Do you want to go back home, Spencer?” Derek asked softly, pulling away to catch sight of Spencer’s tearful honey-brown eyes, and he gently cupped his cheek. His thumb caught a tear that was just beginning to fall past his bottom lashes, and with a sniffle, he shook his head. That would be like admitting weakness.

“N-No, I-I just… I just need a minute,” he murmured rather lamely, pulling away from Derek and pulling a few paper towels from the dispenser to dry his face and wipe away his tears. “Then we can… We can go talk to Hotch,” he said, his voice dropping in volume considerably when he said that, like it was embarrassing. It was, but it was what they should do. He felt uncomfortable, singled out, and while talk and gossip was bound to spread, he hadn’t expected it to be so obvious.

“Take your time, pretty boy. Deep breaths, okay?” Derek reminded him, rubbing a hand over his back yet again as Spencer leaned heavily against the edge of the skin, exhaling shakily and doing as Morgan said. He needed to calm down if he wanted to go out there again, but he wasn’t sure if he could ever face his colleagues the same way again. Eventually though, he managed to collect himself, and the two exited the bathroom and walked quickly to Hotch’s office, Spencer keeping his head bowed in shame the entire time while Derek escorted him with an arm around him the entire way.

Once inside, however, they weren’t expecting to see Rossi inside, sitting down in the seat in front of Aaron’s desk. The two seemed to be chatting amicably while Hotch filled out paperwork simultaneously, but both men raised their heads at the intrusion, and instantly, Hotch took notice of his youngest agent’s flushed face and swollen eyes. He said nothing though, giving either Spencer or Derek the opportunity to explain. Rossi looked on curiously, but he remained silent, paying special attention to the contact between the two men.

“Hotch, we’ve gotta talk, man,” Derek said simply as he closed the door behind them, “How did details of the case leak?”

Hotch was silent for a few moments, setting his pen down and sighing, “It was bound to happen, Morgan. It was getting a lot of attention from the media due to the social justice concerns that arose from it. We cannot control what the media does with the information they retrieve,” he said, folding his hands across his desk, “Nor can we control how others react to seeing such news.”

“So… what? You just want Reid to deal with it?” Morgan asked, narrowing his brows. Spencer stood awkwardly alongside him, glancing over at his partner since the anger was radiating from him in waves.

“What do you want me to do, Morgan?” Hotch asked, clearly a bit exacerbated, “I believe the bureau is considering a mandatory seminar regarding discrimination and harassment in the workplace, but I can’t force them to do it.”

“Of course,” Reid said then, nodding his head a bit sheepishly, “I-I understand…”

“It came across as quite a shock, kid. No offense,” Rossi said, truly sounding genuine but the way his dark eyes roved over him made Spencer feel incredibly vulnerable. “It was, ah… shocking, to say the least. You can’t be surprised that people reacted the way they did.”

“David,” Hotch said warningly, but Reid was already raising an eyebrow, his expression turning into one made of both confusion and surprise.

“What does that mean?” Reid asked slowly, and Rossi simply raised his hands in exasperation as if it were clearly obvious to everyone.

“Oh, Reid… You have to understand how strange it is. Men don’t belong in women’s clothes, it’s just unnatural!” He exclaimed, and Reid shrunk into himself a little bit as the volume rose in the small office. Hotch rose from his desk slowly, catching Reid’s panicked eyes.

“I don’t think you get to choose what type of clothing someone wears,” Reid said simply, “People can wear whatever types of clothes they want to. I don’t wear women’s clothing in my casual life but I’m quite familiar with women’s clothing due to my hobby, which is not unnatural and is completely harmless.”

“Reid…” Rossi started, shaking his head, but Reid wasn’t finished just yet.

“Maybe you should come to one of my shows sometime. Then you’ll see how unnatural it is for me to feel comfortable in my own body and enjoy myself. You have no idea how many straight men have tried to take me home. I bet even you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off of me, David,” he said smoothly with an air of confidence, huffing a bit and glaring sharply at Rossi, making direct eye contact, something he was not known to do. In fact, Hotch and Morgan shared a look of surprise, and even Rossi was left speechless. Derek had never seen his lover like that before, but he was swelling with pride at seeing Spencer defend himself. Reid didn’t feel an ounce of regret for anything he said, and was in fact quite satisfied with himself.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to fix my makeup,” he said with no hesitation, turning on his heel and leaving even Derek in the office as he returned to the bathroom to do just what he said. When he emerged, pink gloss glistening on his diamond lips and translucent blush shimmering on his cheeks, he walked to his desk with his head held high, and even as the whispers continued around him, he sat himself down and got to work, just like he always did. Derek watched him from his own desk and Spencer’s eyes lifted to meet his gaze. He didn’t have to be afraid of judgement anymore, and even if Rossi couldn’t accept him, he would always have someone.

“I love you,” Derek mouthed, and Spencer beamed, feeling more content with himself than he had in a long time.

“As you should,” Spencer said aloud in response, looking down at his work and not missing the guffaw of laughter that came from his lover.

He may always have demons, but he would always have Derek too.

<-Part 8: What a Woman

[marveloussupernerd]

exile - Seven (and Jumin lowkey)

Warnings: angst, lowkey unhealthy relationship, spoilers for Seven’s name

Summary: Seven pushed you away. It’s all his fault. It’s his first time seeing you since. He’s surprised to see you wrapped around the arm of Jumin Han.

He hadn’t seen you in months. You had even taken down your security cameras in the apartment, valuing your distance from him over your safety. How had things gotten so bad so quickly?

He had been yelling at you. You had showed up at his house, passing the security system, and made your way in. Saeran, not expecting anyone to show up, panicked and threw a glass at the door. You said it was fine; it just had scared you. You helped Saeran pick up the glass. Your hand was bleeding.

That hand was now in the Director of C&R, Jumin Han’s hand. The glass didn’t even leave a mark. Your eyes sparkled, looking up at Jumin as he spoke. It made him nauseous. He hadn’t even wanted to come to the party but Yoosung forced him to, promising to stay by his side the whole time. Yoosung’s presence didn’t matter, though, when it felt like you were the only one in the room.

He was telling a joke. There was no way it was funny. Jumin’s jokes were notoriously horrible and often detached from society. Yet there you were, laughing, your eyes crinkling the way they always used to when you were with him.

Your eyes were watery as he practically pulled you away from Saeran into the other room without explanation. “I’m okay, really Saeyoung. I just need a bandaid.” His eyes were stormy as he left the room.

Maybe Jumin treated you better. He seemed very attentive when you spoke, nodding and smiling to make sure you knew he was listening. He wrapped his arm around you so gently, as though he thought you would break.

He came back into the room, holding his hand out with a bandaid in it. “Here.” He said, his words cold.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you upset with me?” You couldn’t stop your eyes from watering. You didn’t like the way he was speaking to you. He shoved the bandaid in your hands, turning away from you. Nevermind. You wished he would speak to you at least. That way you’d know why he was mad.

You and Jumin had excused yourself to sit down at your table. You were wearing high heels to compare to Jumin’s height and to look more sophisticated. You had to put on a good image; you were constantly in the public eye as his girlfriend. Your feet must have hurt, as you slid off one of the heels. Jumin reached into his pocket, pulling out... was that a bandaid? You must have gotten a blister. He watched as Jumin unwrapped it, placing it on your foot for you. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

You cursed silently under your breath. Not only were you confused and upset by Saeyoung, but your hand was still bleeding. Turns out putting a bandaid on your own hand is challenging. You gave up, crumpling the bandaid and letting your hand bleed as it had been.

“Saeyoung,” you put a hand on his shoulder, “please talk to me. Did I do something to upset you?”

He turned to face you. “I can’t. I can’t put you in danger like this. You can’t even step into my house without the threat of being attacked.” His eyes were watery.

You sighed, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave. “I’m okay. It was an accident. It won’t happen again. I’m okay as long as I’ve got you.”

He didn’t even realize he was walking towards the two of you until he sat down.

“Saeyoung! Long time no see,” Jumin smiled. He saw Jumin place his hand on your knee. It wasn’t subtle. He was marking his territory. It was disgusting.

You delicately rested your hand on Jumin’s, glancing to smile at the redhead now sitting at the table. “How have you been lately Saeyoung?”

It had been five months. It would be stupid to say he missed you. “I’m fine. Lots of work... you know.” Why did he come here? Not to rub your past relationship in Jumin’s face, not to win you back. Maybe he just wanted to make himself suffer for the way he made you feel.

He was speechless. “Don’t do this to me Saeyoung. Not again. My heart can’t take it again. Don’t pull away from me.” You pulled him into a tight hug. He thrashed against you, as he had done the first time you had made the same gesture. You expected him to relax into your embrace eventually, but he didn’t, instead finding the right opportunity to physically push you away.

“I can’t. You can’t be with me. It was stupid to think that you could.”

“You thought we could too!” You yelled, grabbing his attention. “Remember when we went to find Saeran together? When we got locked up? When you were in the hospital? We made it through all of that together. Don’t tell me you don’t think we can make it past the fact that I cut myself on a glass your brother broke.” You sighed. “He’s adjusting. He’s going to get better; we just have to give him some time and not punish him for slipping up like so. How do you think he feels listening to us argue right now? What if he thinks it’s his fault?”

He had asked how you had been. Why? More self sabotage. The way Jumin looked at you so lovingly, talking about the yachting trip you two had recently gone on. Your life was now lavish: you wore designer clothes, went on fancy vacations every month, had a private chef and security team. He never could have offered you that.

“How’s Saeran?” You chimed in.

“He’s doing really well,” he smiled, feeling like a hypocrite as he remembered your words from all those months ago. “He spends a lot of time in his room, but he’s going outside and taking walks now. He likes the scenery.”

“And what if Saeran doesn’t get better? How can I trust him not to kill you? I can’t. You need to leave.” He was yelling back.

“No!” You were crying hard now, tugging him back to you, leaving blood marks on his shirt. “Please, hear me out. I can’t do this without you.”

“You’re going to have to. I said leave.” His words were cold, no affection or any emotion detectable in his eyes.

You sniffled, making your way out. Saeran stopped you. You hadn’t realized you were hyperventilating until he pulled you into a hug. “It’s not your fault,” you whispered to him. “Please... take care of yourself.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of that moment, all the pain in your heart. You tore your eyes away from Saeyoung. It didn’t matter now. It was just a scar from the past.

Jumin could immediately sense your discomfort. “If you’ll excuse us, we have more guests to greet,” he held your hands, helping you out of your seat. “It was nice catching up with you Saeyoung.”

You were bawling as you walked back to your car, hands shaky. You almost didn’t notice the nice car pull up beside you, Jumin Han stepping out and looking you over. “Whatever is the matter?” He asked, skipping his usual greetings as he was so surprised to see you in this state.

“Saeyoung...” you sniffled, “I...” he nodded. That was all he needed to hear.

“Would you like some company? I’m sure Elizabeth the III would be more than excited to meet you if you don’t want to be alone right now.” He seemed awkward proposing such a thing, but he swallowed the strange feeling and braved through it for you.

You nodded meekly, joining Jumin in his car, leaving your own there and his meeting with Saeyoung long forgotten.

“Are you alright?” Jumin asked after helping you into a secluded corner of the room. “I know things didn’t break off necessarily well between the two of you.”

“It’s just weird,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I hadn’t seen him since...”

He held your cheek gently; you looked up to be met with his soft, affectionate gaze. Music was playing. You two were swaying to the beat without even realizing it. “Have I told you how wonderful you are lately?” It was something he did everyday. Your self esteem had definitely taken a toll after your break up, but Jumin wouldn’t allow you to think poorly of yourself.

“Yes,” you smiled, sighing happily, “but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Saeyoung watched as the two of you slow danced, his hand holding your face carefully, his eyes looking down so affectionately. It could have been him. He could have been the one complimenting you every day, anchoring you, but he was stupid. He wanted to protect you more than anything else. Even if it meant breaking his heart.

[i-just-love-spop]

I’m here

Some nights were alright.

Some nights were bad.

And some nights were terrible.

Bow was there to remind Glimmer that she wasn’t alone during all of them.

Glimbow-centric. Catradora is hinted at, but is completely off-screen for this one.

Glimmer is very heavily implied to also be traumatized in “Save the Cat”, and while it’s definitely different from Catra’s trauma, I imagine it’s pretty bad as well, so instead of writing the seven other concepts that are flying around in my notes, I decided to write this one because it jumped at me randomly way too early in the morning.

I know that there are technically no “nights” in space, but they still have some sort of day-night-rhythm, and night in this case just refers to the time they are all sleeping – or should be, at least.

Takes place in between “Taking Control” and “Perils of Peekablue”. This assumes that traveling from Etheria to Prime’s flagship and back took them at least three weeks each, because of their old ship, their limited knowledge of the technology and the lack of any ability to teleport or create portals. I have no idea if that’s accurate, but then again, nobody really knows how much time passes during the show.

TW: PTSD-induced panic attacks.

Glimmer‘s body tensed up in Bow‘s arms while she slept, just like it had happened the nights before, ever since Catra had teleported her off of Prime‘s ship.

He was still awake, hugging her gently to remind her he was there, and always on the lookout for signs of another panic attack like the one he had witnessed about two weeks earlier.

He rubbed her back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. I will never let him hurt you again, I promise.”

-

For the first few nights after she’d been freed from Prime’s ship, she’d suffered through her terrors alone – not wanting to reach out to Bow too early, because he was allowed to stay mad at her for a while. Because she didn’t want to overstrain his good will after everything they’d went through, or to burden him or Adora with her silly nightmares considering everything else that was going on. What kind of terrible friend would she be if she’d do that?

Well, that facade had been smashed and crumbled completely about two days before they’d arrived at Prime’s ship.

She’d promised Adora she would help her rescue Catra – stars, there was a part of her that had started to like Catra when they had both been prisoners, and she had saved her, after all –, but the closer they got to Prime’s flagship, the worse her nightmares got.

This had eventually culminated in a full-blown panic attack, and after half a night of sobbing and thrashing around in her own bed, she’d gotten up, and had told Bow, still crying and entire body trembling, that she understood that he was still mad at her, and that it was okay, and if he needed more time, but-

By then he’d already gotten out of bed, put his arms around her and told her that of course she could stay.

No matter how mad he was at her... seeing her so upset and scared shattered his heart to pieces.

He’d never seen her like this before – not even after her mother died. And it terrified him.

He couldn’t take it.

Glimmer had slept in his bed every night after that.

_

Some nights were alright.

She’d flaked out and had been fast asleep until morning after long days of planning the rescue mission – planning itself hadn’t been easy for her, either. He had seen the way her body tensed whenever Horde Prime or the flagship were mentioned – he still saw it, now that they were on their way back home, whenever they talked about what had happened –, and he had eventually decided that comforting her by holding her hand, despite still being mad at her, was alright for him.

Not that staying mad at her was easy. She’d made mistakes, there was no denying that... but he knew her well enough to know that her apology was sincere, and that even if he were to never forgiven her, this would still be the first and last time she’d made a mistake like this.

Also, staying mad at anyone – especially at Glimmer –, had never been his strong suit. She was his best friend after all... and, at the same time, so much more than that. They’d been inseparable ever since they were little, and he couldn’t imagine his life without her – and even if he could have, he didn’t want to.

He hated fighting with her. He hated being mad at her.

He... he could have lost her. She could have been gone by now. The thought terrified him in a way that nothing had ever terrified him before. It made him sick to the stomach.

He hugged her tighter.

...Adora was to Catra what Glimmer was to him, wasn’t she? Just that she had needed her even more desperately, because they’d grown up in such a toxic environment. He hadn’t always been able to be honest with his dads, and Glimmer’s mother had driven her insane sometimes... but neither of their parents would have ever thought of hurting them, especially not on purpose.

That didn’t make everything Catra had done alright, of course. It was far from that.

But he was starting to understand her better – he could definitely see how everything that had happened could drive someone in her situation over the edge.

Catra actually seemed to be a decent person when she wasn’t trying to kill them, so he was willing to give her another chance as long as she kept on working on herself and didn’t hurt his friends again.

He was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts as Glimmer stirred in his arms again.

Most nights weren’t good. More were since they’d started traveling back home, away from Horde Prime... but there were still a lot of nights that Glimmer thrashed around in her sleep, that she woke up screaming and crying and unable to catch her breath.

-

Some nights were bad.

-

And some nights were terrible.

-

Glimmer woke up in cold sweat. She felt dizzy, her heart was beating out of her chest, and she felt almost nauseous. For a moment, all she could see was green eyes in the pitch black room. She screamed and backed away until her back hit the wall.

“Glimmer... Glimmer, it’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.”

The voice was soothing and weirdly familiar. And then, all of a sudden, the green eyes disappeared, and she jolted up, back into reality.

She was... she was on the ship. She’d been on the First One’s ship for weeks. She was... she was... scared and confused, and threw her arms around her best friend like there was no tomorrow.

She needed this. More than she would like to admit.

She was completely freaked out and was positive she’d forgotten how to breathe, and it was getting worse and worse and worse and-

“Glimmer, it’s okay.” He stroked her head. “You’re here. With me. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Bow...” She sobbed into his chest. “I-I’m so cold...”

Seeing his best friend this hurt and afraid and broken caused physical pain. She’d been through so much lately. She didn’t deserve this.

For a while, they just sat there and he hugged her shivering body tight because that seemed to be the only thing that calmed her down, if only slightly.

"It will be okay. I promise. You can get through this. I know you can.”

“B-but-“

Her entire body was shaking.

She was so stuck in her terror that it made her completely unable to form words properly, even less sentences.

“No. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He let go of her and offered her his hands to hold. She took them with shaking hands.

“I-“

The words still didn’t come.

"Concentrate on your breathing. Stay in the present. Count to ten with me, alright? Like we practiced."

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes and squeezing his hands as they counted, her breaths slowly growing steadier. She was still panicking, still scared, but his voice was calm and soft and his hands in hers felt nice and warm and kept her in reality.

He was so patient with her. He was always so patient with her. She was pretty certain Bow was the most amazing person in the entire universe.

How she deserved someone like him in her life, especially after how badly she had messed up, was beyond her.

“I- I’m s-sorry I-I‘m so m-messed u-up,“ she sobbed.

She was still shaking, but she wasn’t quite as trapped in her head anymore.

He just held her and rubbed her back.

“You did good, okay? I’m so proud of you.” She buried her head in his chest. He went back to stroking her head gently. “And you’re not messed up. You’ve just been through a lot lately. I don’t think any of us will get out of this battle without scars. But that doesn’t make us broken.” He smiled at her. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve gotten through so much already. We’ll work through this, too.”

“W-we?”

She looked up at him, her arms still wrapped around him tightly.

Touching him calmed her down. It always had.

Bow nodded.

“Of course. You’re my best friend, Glimmer. And you don’t have to do this alone, okay? I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breathing was steadier now, her hands not shivering as much when she lifted them to her face to wipe her tears away.

“Bow, I-“ She cut herself off mid-sentence. “Thank you. For being so patient with me, and calming me down and- still wanting to be my best friend, even after everything that happened. You’re amazing. You’re the best friend anyone could ever wish for.”

“Anytime.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you need anything else?” She shook her head. “Do... do you want to go back to sleep?”

“I... yeah. That... that might be good. Can... can I be the big spoon?“

Bow smiled.

“Always.” He hugged her one more time. “So... do I want to sleep with the lights on today?”

She smiled softly. He asked her this every time she woke up from a nightmare, ever since the first night she had slept on his bed here.

She’d freaked out when he’d turned the lights back off that night, and then told him through sobs that saying she wanted to leave them would make her feel like a little girl and that she hated that.

He’d retorted “Well, maybe I want to leave the lights on.”

And now he always asked if he wanted to leave them on because that made her feel less weird about it.

Stars, how was he this perfect...

“No... I... I think I’m okay now. Better at least. But... thank you.”

They laid back down and Bow pulled the blanked back over them as she took him into her arms.

Glimmer liked being the big spoon sometimes. She liked holding him, and she loved the way it made her feel strong and big when she was feeling so small and vulnerable.

Being the little spoon made her feel loved and protected, and she liked that just as much... but some nights it was easier if she had something to hold onto.

“And Bow?” She said after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor and actually sleep this time, okay? You can’t exactly reprimand Adora for not sleeping enough if you stay up all night watching over me.”

Adora didn’t even need to be reprimanded as much anymore. Both of them were certain that they’d never seen her as happy and relaxed as she was since she had Catra back, and especially since Catra had made up with Entrapta.

Sure, she was still her usual ‘I need to save the galaxy all on my own’-level of stressed, but something had changed since Catra was on the ship.

This fact was extremely hard to miss – after all, even Entrapta had picked up on it, and she wasn’t exactly an expert on picking up social cues.

How had she put it again?

‘Adora’s smile rate goes up by at least twenty percent whenever Catra is in the room’, or something.

“I... can’t sleep when I’m not sure you’ll sleep through the night,” Bow admitted, interrupting her thoughts. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“That’s...” Her voice cracked. “That’s so sweet of you. I appreciate it, I really do... but you need to sleep.”

“Promise me you’ll wake me up if you need help again?”

She nodded.

“I promise.”

Bow was the first one to doze off this time. Glimmer didn’t mind. She was comfortable and warm and felt save now. He’d gotten really good at battling her fears with her these past few weeks.

She loved him for that, and for so many other things. She was so incredibly thankful to have him in her life.

His body felt so nice against hers. His hair smelled pretty good, too. And then she caught herself thinking about kissing him again, like she had so many times during these past few years.

I think I love you. I think I love you, love you.

She could at least admit that to herself now, and although the thought still terrified her – the same way it always had when it had crossed her mind over the years to abruptly be banished into the darkest depths of denial again –, it also made her smile, if only a little.

For the rest of the night, the two of them slept peacefully.

___

A/N: So, uuuhm... did anyone ask for angst? No?

...Well, have some anyway.

The idea just kind of popped into my head, and, well, we need more Glimbow content anyway.

This also adds some more meaning to Bow reaching for Glimmer’s hand while they are asleep in “Failsafe“, and it’s an additional reason why they could be cuddling in “Don’t go”. Just saying.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!

Feedback is always appreciated, comments especially. I’m also happy about reblogs!

I will upload this on my Ao3 tomorrow.

...and I’m already writing a spin-off ficlet about Catradora and Glimbow goofing around the next morning because I have no self-control. Whoops.

Thank you for reading!

[ayellowcurtain]

Maybe you could create one where Sander has been at Robbe's house for several days and he doesn't want to be on his side, so Senne bothers him for being so in love. and you could add if you can something from the other alpha so that it continues to provoke Sander's jealousy. and as always strength and love!

can you write something about that Sander accidentally cut his hand and Robbe taking care of him.

Maybe you could continue with the other day after nesting, as Sander watches Robbe sleep and realizes that he wants to stay with him for more days, but he doesn't know how to ask Robbe. and he looks for excuses to extend his visit, but when he sees that Robbe receives a message from the other alpha asking him for a new appointment because Robbe "is perfect". confirming to Sander that he just wants to be with Robbe.

Part 7

They went to bed really late, Sander is not sure, but it felt like the sun was starting to warm the sheets underneath him when he fell asleep.

Maybe it wasn’t the sun, maybe the sheets were still warm from the rolling around every time, trying to find a cold spot where they could start all over again. His head is hurting a little, but it’s easy to ignore when he feels a weight on his chest, drool drying where he feels a slow and warm breath against his naked chest. And the smell is even better.

If he could, Sander would definitely save Robbe’s smell somewhere that he could smell it whenever needed. It gets even better when they’re together, can even cure his hangover and shame for being found drunk inside a bar, craving Robbe’s reassurance that he was still the one.

Sander huffs laughter, covering his face with his hand, embarrassed but also happy that Robbe went looking and even found him. Only he could find Sander. Robbe is still clearly far from waking up, but Sander still misses him, still needs to look at Robbe with his open brown eyes staring up at Sander and know that he still likes him, even if just a little bit. 

So Sander moves carefully, with his eyes constantly on Robbe’s face, stopping whenever he frowns and whines, even if just a little, slowly lying on his side, pulling his arms from underneath Robbe’s head.

Once he’s out of Robbe’s reach, his instincts crave his touch and his warm again, but Sander controls himself, crawling on top of Robbe, carefully sitting on his tighs as Robbe pulls his pillow closer, burying his face against it and falling back asleep. Sander watches for a little more, trying to save every detail perfectly inside his brain, but then he wants to kiss Robbe so badly.

He moves back to his knees and hands again, smiling to the sleepy Robbe underneath him, starting to kiss the side of his neck, looking up constantly to make sure Robbe’s eyes are still shut.

Sander makes sure to not miss a single inch of his back, smiling against his smooth skin when Robbe shivers or when he feels his muscles moving under his skin due to Sander’s kisses.

He stops when his shin bumps into Robbe’s underwear and looks up, almost sure Robbe is awake by now, just pretending to be asleep. Sander kisses the small of his back slowly, getting closer and closer to his boxers.

“Stop.”  Robbe whispers with a raspy voice and Sander does as he’s told, just touching Robbe’s skin when he asks.

“What? I wasn’t going anywhere…” Sander teases, biting his lip when he feels Robbe quietly lifting his hips from the mattress. He whines and opens his legs, bending one leg up to the side until his left foot meets his right knee.

“I know, that’s why I asked you to stop...because I’m gonna have to force you to go lower…” Sander looks up and he can’t see, but he hears Robbe’s smile in the way that he talks.

Sander likes to tease and Robbe likes it too, so Sander bites as close as he can to Robbe’s boxers, slowly moving it down with both his hands, having to swallow his own moan when he feels Robbe’s ass filling both his hands.

He’s not in a rush so he takes his times sitting on his heels, slowly pulling Robbe’s underwear down his legs, carefully taking it off his feet. Robbe’s phone keeps buzzing nonstop on his nightstand, but Sander is more than happy to ignore it, but Robbe moves away from him, snaking up the bed to reach for it.

“Robbe…”

“Just a second, stay right where you are.” Sander sighs as loud as he can to make his annoyance clear, but he sits back on his heels like he was told to do and he waits. Robbe moves to lie on his back and press play and Sander’s patience flies out the window the instant he hears the voice.

Hey, Robbe...it’s me. You left me on read last night after our date...I’m sorry if I said something stupid or...I don’t know, wasn’t what you were expecting...I thought our date was doing so fucking good. Please, can we have another one? If I didn’t say or do anything wrong and you just really needed to go, can we have another one? Maybe we could go somewhere...more private...Anyway, please, Robbe. If you feel like it, let’s go on another date...you’re perfect and I’m not one to give up easily.

Sander quickly crawls on top of Robbe again, grabbing Robbe’s phone from his hand - keeping it high enough over his head so Robbe won’t reach - before he can start typing a reply to that ridiculously cheesy and disgusting audio.

“You were on a date last night?” Sander is glad he managed to hide how feral he’s going inside because of the newfound information.

Robbe tries to reach his phone, but Sander is sitting on his stomach, not letting him move much. “It was just a couple of drinks.”

“Why did you leave him? It sounds like it was sudden…”

“I wanted to go look for you,” Robbe answers easily with no shame. Sander frowns, but his instincts love Robbe’s words, he almost hums because of it.

“Why?”

“Just because.” Robbe settles back against his pillow, sighing in annoyance, but his body is still very relaxed.

“It was because of the heat.” It’s the only explanation Sander can think of and one side of him gets really cocky thinking about Robbe needing him during his heat, not anyone else.

“No, Sander. You always think everything is that physical, huh?”

“It isn’t?” He has to ask, sounding more confident than how he feels. “Are you going to answer him?”

“Should I just read and ignore his texts?”

“Yes?” It’s the obvious answer, but Sander knows Robbe would never do that. He’s way too nice.

“Sander…”

He rolls his eyes and gives Robbe his phone back, moving away from him, searching for his underwear in the mess of clothes, blankets, and pillows they threw out of the bed during the night. Everything smells the same and Sander just wants a quick way out, not feeling like listening to his Robbe flirty-texting someone else.

So he finally finds it and puts his underwear and rushes out of the bedroom, ignoring Robbe’s requests for him to stay in bed.

Robbe’s place is oddly organized and clean. It’s probably part of his nesting craves. Not that he’s not usually organized, but it feels extra clean and homey this morning. The soft yellow sun light diffusing when meeting Robbe’s white curtains turn the whole flat into a pastel yellow. It’s very soft, but Sander starts to feel too hot with all this warm light surrounding him from every direction.

Sander goes straight to the kitchen, looking down, too inside himself to remember where the cups are. With each cabinet he opens and doesn’t find what he’s looking for, Sander gets more frustrated, thinking that Robbe is not there to tell him where things are because he’s too busy trying to keep a stranger interested. His heart is beating too fast, too big inside his small ribcage.

He finally finds the cups, glasses ones that feel heavy on his hand, probably expensive. And Sander just needs to let some of his energy out and it just feels too necessary not to.

He throws the glass across the room with all his strength, watching as one cup turns into hundreds of pieces on the old tile floor.

It helps, but only for the quickest second. Way too soon, Sander is back to feeling anxious, feeling his skin harsh and sensitive, almost too tight for him and he just wants to scream, to find another way to let his frustrations out.

Robbe’s worried voice is muffled by the walls between them, but it makes Sander start moving around the kitchen, collecting all the glass from the floor, putting it all on his palm to find a way to throw away after.

He hears the smooth sound Robbe’s socks make as he rushes against the wood floor and stops at the kitchen door.

“What happened?” Sander could hear Robbe coming and still, he jumps when he hears him just a few feet away from him, instantly feeling one of the glasses sinking into his palm.

“Fuck!” He gets up and drops all the glass inside the sink, opening his hand again to see a string of blood turn wider in his palm, soon painting his whole hand bright red.

“Shit, Sander…” Robbe comes closer before he can ask him not to, grabbing his hand and opening the tap and the cold water hits the cut instantly. “Do you think there’s some glass inside your cut?” Robbe leans down, looking at his hand closely.

Sander can handle pain, he thinks he’s quite good at it, but something about this cut crossing his entire palm crosswise it’s almost unbearable.

“No, shit, it was just a cut, it’s clean.” He’s not sure, but he says like he is, Robbe’s body is in front of him, keeping Sander from seeing his own hand. He feels Robbe’s gentle touch close to his injury, pressing carefully, still letting the water wash the blood out.

Sander puts his working hand on Robbe’s shoulder, his inspection is starting to make Sander nauseous and dizzy.

“Can you just get me some bandage?”

His touch makes Robbe listen and nod his head, instantly putting his hand carefully down against the cold counter, rushing to the bathroom. Sander can hear when his nervous hands drop probably everything inside his cabinets in search of something to put on Sander’s hand. He doesn’t look at his hand, but lets it under the water, waiting for Robbe.

More loud noises, Robbe probably kicking things out of his way to go back to the kitchen.

“Here.” He rushes to Sander’s side, putting a bunch of plastic bags on the counter, opening the bandages, and biting some tape off to put around the bandages.

Sander lets him lead, distracting himself by how gentle and caring Robbe is. He cleans and dries the cut very carefully, looking closely as he puts the bandage precisely over it, rolling the tape all around his hand on both ends, making sure it’s not too tight, but tight enough.

“I don’t wanna lose you, Robbe.” He realizes and says it out loud at the same time, noticing how Robbe is caught by surprise, stopping for a second from gathering all the empty packages.

“I'm afraid that's not possible either, so…” He says easily, with no weight or actual meaning to his words, and Sander bites the inside of his cheek, hating that he was to explain when he’s talking seriously. Even if he takes it so lightly, Sander doesn’t want his bite to be an excuse that Robbe often uses to Sander and to himself as to why they keep coming back to each other.

Sander is in love. He knows that now and he thinks Robbe might be in love too and the thought of it just being because of his bite makes Sander want to leave and never come back, feeling so ashamed. Robbe is better off without him anyway.

Robbe finally lets go of his hand and turns around, but his eyes only meet Sander’s for a brief moment, stepping to the side to throw everything away. Sander inhales deeply, looking at Robbe. “You have a choice, I won't force you to be with me, you don’t deserve that. I’m sure a lot of people did it differently, not staying with...you know, the ones.”

Robbe nods his head, still looking down, leaning against the counter behind him.

“I know.”

“I like you, Robbe. That’s what you wanna hear? I’m falling in love with you and I just don’t know what to do with that, I never fell in love before and I’m just fucking struggling! But I do like you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, the two of us, forever.”

Robbe looks up through his lashes and huffs the smallest laughter, his long, soft brown hair moving with him and Sander wishes he could live this morning over and over again, for the rest of his life.

[h-styles-babes]

NINE

Week Two

“You didn’t,” El gasped, genuinely surprised by her best friend. “Anastasia Marie!”

Sia threw her head back against her pillow and groaned. “I know! I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out. And then he started throwin’ shit back at me, and it all kinda escalated. Worse even, is that his manager’s here now. I’m sure Azoff is gonna have words for Bhasker.”

She really didn’t have any idea how it had come to this. Harry and Sia had spent the weekend away from each other after their little tiff at the bar on Friday night. Sia spent Saturday talking to Mitch about everything regarding herself and Harry Styles, and then they went down to the beach to try to wind down. She’d had fun learning to surfboard, though she wasn’t very good at it yet. On Sunday, she’d went into town and met up with Nadia for lunch, where she did everything in her power to not think about Harry. Did she feel bad for getting snippy with him while they were just trying to have a good time? Yes. But he’d been snippy back, and it was obvious neither one of them had any plans to apologise.

Monday’s recording session had been absolute chaos because Sia and Harry were actively avoiding having to look or talk to each other, and it was most definitely causing everyone around them discomfort. Sia couldn’t take another second of it once they were nearing on noon, but luckily Alex called for a lunch break, since they didn’t seem to be getting anywhere any time soon. Sia had quickly fled to the kitchen to grab a prepackaged salad from the fridge and was already dialing Ellen’s number as she walked down the hall to her room.

“Yeh both need to get your heads out of your arses and make this work,” El told her. “This is your first producer credit and this is his first solo album. It can’t turn out like shit because you two are being babies.”

“Hey,” Sia protested, not expecting this turn of events. Ellen was typically on her side, backing up her distaste for anyone Sia deemed unworthy. For the last six months, Ellen had wholeheartedly taken it upon herself to hate Harry’s guts just because he’d hurt her best friend. Now she was singing a different tune, and Sia hadn’t been prepared for it.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still very upset with him,” Ellen quickly assured, sensing her friend’s affronted state. “But this shouldn’t be about the beef you two have with each other. Yeh need to set that aside and agree to play this out like civil human beings because yeh both want this album to be successful. Bein’ at each other’s throats about shit isn’t gonna make that happen.”

“Are yeh sayin’ we should call a truce while we’re workin’?” Sia asked.

“I’m sayin’ maybe yeh should actually…yeh know, work some shit out,” El suggested, a hesitancy in her tone. She wasn’t quite sure how Sia was going to take it. “Think a lot of the animosity comes from yeh not speakin’ to each other about what happened. Maybe it’s time yeh tell him? It’s been months, babe.”

Sia swallowed hard over her suggestion, the threat of bile rising in her throat. She felt nauseous at even the thought of opening up to Harry about her feelings and things. She knew it had been months since everything happened, but she was still hurt from it. No one just got over the things she’d gone through after they’d broken up. She’d had every intention of telling him about it at the time, but then he’d shown up with the brunette Barbie wrapped around him on a bloody yacht, and all her intentions flew out the window. He obviously didn’t care anymore, so what did it matter? If she told him, he’d just pity her. It wasn’t worth it, so she suffered alone. Well, not alone. She had Ellen and her parents, but no one who’s emotions would have been on the same level as hers. She may as well have been alone, she surmised.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that, El,” Sia whispered, feeling the thickness in her throat that indicated her approaching tears. “And I don’t know if I wanna bring that vibe to all this.”

Ellen sighed. “I know, babe. And I know it’s hard. I still get emotional over it sometimes. But he deserves to know. I know yeh had your reasons for not tellin’ him before, but that was then. Who knows if you’ll ever see him again. He needs to know.”

Sia felt her tears slip back into her hairline, no doubt probably ruining her eyeliner along with it. “I know,” she whimpered.

All the crushing feelings she’d experienced when it’d first happened washed over her, breaking her heart all over again. Not that it’d ever properly healed from the initial wound, but there’d been secure bandages around it that made it possible for her to function as a normal human being. It felt like those bandages and plasters were being forcibly ripped from her being. Of course, she’d been to therapy to try to dull the pain and rebuild what part of her had been broken, but it was hard when a part of the source of her pain didn’t know anything.

And Ellen was right. Sia had had her reasons for not telling Harry at the time she found out. He’d broken her heart, and she had no intention of reopening those wounds when she had new ones with which to deal. So she’d trudged on with the most life-threatening of them, stopping the bleeding and preventing any further injury. The previous one seemed to heal on its own, though severely malnourished, so those parts of her were still wonky. But they functioned, which was all she could really hope for. The newest ones, though. They seemed to be infected and no matter how aggressively she tried to treat them, it just seemed to be persisting, running rampant with no sign of stopping. She’d had to prioritise.

“And I’m not sayin’ this is all on you. He definitely has some apologisin’ and grovellin’ to do. But right now he doesn’t know why you’re really mad, and so he’s probably lashin’ out because of that.”

Sia wiped at her tears and forced herself back up in bed. “I know. And I feel bad for antagonisin’ him the other night, but I couldn’t help it. I think we’re makin’ progress and I’m settin’ aside my feelings, and then I’m angry all over again. And then I feel like shit about it afterward.”

“I don’t blame yeh,” Ellen assured her. “It’s normal with what happened. But maybe lettin’ him into this part will help yeh heal. He’ll probably go through the motions of it all too, and maybe it’ll make yeh guys able to at least talk to each other. I’m sure it’d be nice to at least be friendly with him again.”

There was a knock on her door as Sia hummed in agreement with Ellen. She called for the person to come in, and Mitch peeked his head into the door.

“They’re ready to head back into the studio.” If he noticed that Sia had been crying, he didn’t comment on it.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a mo’.”

Mitch smiled at her and backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“I gotta go, El. I’ll call yeh in a few days, I’m sure.”

“Alright, lovie. Let me know if yeh end up tellin’ him.”

Sia agreed and they hung up after quick farewells. Sia made a quick stop to the restroom to make sure her face was still in order before going back into the lion’s den that was the recording studio.

~*~*~*~

“Maybe we should stack the vocals there,” Harry suggested, pointing to a section of recording on the computer screen that Alex was sitting at.

It was Wednesday and they’d been trying to perfect this one song that Harry couldn’t seem to get right. Every which way they put it together sounded a bit off to him, and he could tell it was starting to wear on everyone, despite their willingness to let him keep fiddling with it. No matter how many times he went back in the booth to lay down a background note, it never sounded they way he’d wanted it to with the established lyrics and arrangement, and it was driving him absolutely bonkers. He could see the looks that flashed across everyone’s faces when he declared another change, but they quickly masked with with feigned enthusiasm. Everyone was trying to appease him, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Everyone except Sia, that was.

This time, when he suggested his new idea, she groaned, throwing her head back in the chair that she was sat in beside Alex. They were on day three of trying to perfect this arrangement and he could tell it was wearing her nerves thin. He felt bad about it, because he didn’t want to cause anyone any stress, but she was getting on his nerves too, with all her snarky comments she spewed under her breath. She must have forgotten how truly attuned he was to her, though, because he heard every one of them, and it took him all his gained patience to not bite back. His own patience was wearing thin, though, and it was only a matter of time before he snapped back at her. He could feel it building underneath his skin like a bad rash.

“That’s gonna sound shit,” she argued, pointing at the fresh recording bit Harry had suggested inputting to the already laid track. “The notes don’t go together. They sound like they’re off two different songs. Yeh need to harmonise, Styles. Those aren’t harmonious. Jesus.”

Harry’s jaw clenched and he could feel the thread of his patience fraying.

“The last piece yeh recorded was better. It flows. What was wrong with that one?” she asked, pointing at the previous file that they’d liked best.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Harry told her, just like he’d told her the first time he’d heard it.

“‘It doesn’t feel right,’” she mocked, mostly to herself. “It doesn’t need to feel right. But it sounds right, and that’s what matters.”

“This is my fuckin’ album, Anastasia. I’ll do whatever the fuck I please,” he spit out. He was really trying to be civil for the sake of maintaining a professionalism with her, but she really knew how to press each and every one of his buttons.

“Cursin’ at me doesn’t scare me, Harry. Who do yeh think taught yeh how to use all those big boy words?” They glared at each other over the top of Alex’s head, which was the only thing that separated them physically. “And while this may be your album, the rest of us are workin’ our arses off on it, too.”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he huffed out a breath, reasoning with himself that he would most definitely not be hitting a woman ever in his life. Especially this woman, whom he’d spent a majority of his life loving with every fibre of his being. However, she was infuriating him to the point of an actual outburst, and he’d never wanted to smack someone so bad in his life. When they’d been together, she’d push his buttons and then they’d take it out on each other with a bit of rough sex. But since that wasn’t an option anymore, Harry was having a harder time expelling his pent up emotions.

“I swear to God, Anastasia…” he trailed off under his breath, closing his eyes against having to look at her. She was so fucking beautiful, her hazel eyes set with determination and her pretty lips pursed with her frustrations. He wanted to love her like he’d been free to for so many years of his life, but he couldn’t, and it was pissing him off that she was pissing him off intentionally. It was a conundrum.

Sia opened her mouth to bite back at him, but Jeff Azoff quickly butted in.

“Alright, maybe now is time for a bit of a break,” he suggested loudly over the rising volume of their argument. He took a quick glance at the watch that sat on his wrist. “It’s lunch time, anyway. How about we take an hour, and we’ll meet back here to start fresh.”

When no one gave any protests, Jeff nodded and they all broke for lunch, heading off in their different directions. Sia lingered behind in the studio while everyone exited, letting herself calm down a little from the strange nearly-yelling match she’d had with Harry. She hated herself for letting it get like that, but he was just getting under her skin like he’d always been able. It had worked for them so wonderfully when they were friends and then in a relationship, but it was just venomous now that they weren’t even acquaintances. There was no healthy way for her to expel all her fucked up emotions in that moment, and it was driving her a bit crazy. She wanted to rip her hair out with how frustrated she was with him.

She watched as Jeff pulled Harry aside with a grip on his shoulder as they got the threshold of the door. She was sure his manager was going to have words with his client about what the hell had just happened. Jeff obviously knew about Sia and Harry’s history, since Jeff had been his friend long before he’d become his manager. However, Sia was nearly positive some sort of backlash would come of this. While it was common for producers and artists to have tiffs about musical choices and stylizing arrangements, it was not at all common for them to yell at each other about it. She was mad at herself for letting it get like that, and all she could do after the fact was hope there were no serious ramifications to her career.

Sia finally let herself release tension from her shoulders when Mitch rapped his knuckles against the open doorframe. He had a sympathetic smile on his face, though he didn’t look like what had just taken place in the studio was a complete disaster.

“Is Harry pissed?” she asked him, letting herself relax back into her chair.

Mitch shook his head. “Nah. Think he realised you both were just upset. Heard Jeff asking him if this needed to be dealt with.” The way he said ‘this’ definitely implied to Sia that Jeff wasn’t happy with their behaviour. She’d be hard pressed to let Jeff take this opportunity away from her and postpone production. She’d fight to the death for this. “But Harry brushed him off and promised he’d fix it. Seemed to ease Jeff a bit.”

“Good,” Sia said. “I don’t know what the fuck happened. I think bein’ cooped up with him has started to take it’s toll. Too many pent up emotions, still.”

Mitch looked at her thoughtfully as he pushed his hair back behind his ears. She could see him beginning to chew on the inside of his cheek, like he was contemplating actually opening his mouth to speak. She didn’t want Mitch to be afraid to speak freely with her or ask her questions. They’d only known each other for two week, but she felt like she’d known him for ages. Plus she liked having someone here with her to express her worries and strifes with so openly. Talking to Ellen every couple days was great, but she couldn’t comfort Sia physically. Mitch was an actual shoulder to cry on, and between him and El, Sia felt like she could hold herself together through all of this.

“Just come out with it, Rowland,” she urged, kicking her foot out at him in a gesture to get his attention.

“Don’t think you have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he prefaced. “But, is the whole yacht thing the only reason you’re upset. Because, knowing what I do about you, I feel like you’d have been over that awhile ago.”

Sia furrowed her brows as she assessed him. He was far too intuitive for his own good, she realised. No one who didn’t know the full extent of the story had figured her ire and upset had been due to anything other than Harry’s betrayal. Her reaction was really only warranted if he’d actually cheated on her, which he hadn’t. However, Mitch was the first person to comment on the fact that Sia’s emotions seemed disproportionate to the act she was upset about. Maybe not all men were emotionally stunted after all.

“Yeh picked up on that, huh?” she asked.

He nodded at her. “Like I said, you obviously don’t have to tell me.”

Sia let the silence after his statement linger for a few moments, allowing her to ponder whether or not she actually wanted to tell Mitch. It seemed like a pretty big emotional burden to place on someone who was practically a stranger. Hell, it was a lot of emotional burden on the people she loved most in life.

Finally she looked up at him. “I haven’t told anyone beside my family and best friend. Oh, and my therapist.”

“You really don’t have to tell me, Sia.”

“I know. But my therapist says it’s healthy to discuss it with people I trust. And for some inexplicable reason, you seem like a pretty trustworthy person, Mitchell.”

“I’m unsuspecting like that,” he joked.

Sia laughed a little. “C’mon. Close the door behind yeh. Think I’m ready to talk about it a little.”

[twistedwonderlandimagines]

Done Being Nice (Part 3)

I knew this would definitely make it to at least three parts. This is my longest fic on this blog right now.

Part 1 Part 2

Part 4 Epilogue

Jamil tapped the eraser of his pencil against his wooden desk in his dorm room. 

His new roommate sighed and asked, “Do you have to keep studying so late? It’s hard to sleep with that lamp on.”

Jamil scoffed at the first-year. “It’s not my problem if you can’t sleep with one tiny light on.” He was used to Kalim being able to sleep through anything but the most devastating of natural disasters. He sighed. He was used to Kalim studying with him...

He shook away those thoughts. He’d finally broken his bond with the careless Kalim! He no longer had to serve him. He could be free after he graduated. He could finally get revenge on that family... But he felt nauseous as he thought of Kalim on the receiving end of his wrath, begging for mercy. He knew, despite himself, that he could never... But... But he did hurt him. He hurt him so bad and now he was feeling guilty.

He slammed his textbook shut, turned off the lamp, and stormed out of the dorm room. He went into the empty common room and threw himself onto a couch. Why did his feelings towards Kalim have to be so frustrating?

He sighed. He just... He needed some time outside of the dorm they used to share... Just for about an hour and then he’d go to bed and forget about Kalim.

---

Ace, Kalim, and Lilia sat on the bench in the school courtyard eating lunch together.

Lilia grumbled at his seat next to his friends. He hadn’t found out anything particularly interesting about Jamil. And he couldn’t physically hurt him or Kalim would be even more upset than before. It had to be an emotional sort of torture.

“Lilia? What’s up?” Ace asked.

“Nothing...”

Kalim smiled gently. “Something’s not right. You wouldn’t be mumbling like that if it was nothing.”

“I’m just pissed off about Jamil. And you’re clearly still beat up over it.”

Looking down at his lunch, Kalim sighed. “Yeah... But I don’t want that to bum you out.”

Lilia popped another candy into his mouth, and felt something... Off.

Almost like... Yeah... Like being watched. Lilia could feel Jamil’s eyes on the group even from across the courtyard, though he was attempting to hide. 

Lilia chuckled to himself, then busted out laughing. A person weak of heart might have run screaming from the cruel glee in that laugh. Lilia got it now. He knew Jamil’s one weakness. No matter how much he desperately tried to escape it, he was bound heart and soul to Kalim. And even despite that, he could have been so cruel to the young noble? Disgusting. Cowardly.

And Lilia had a way to use that to his advantage. He turned to Kalim, who was staring at him along with Ace after his sudden outburst.

“Kalim, Jamil’s watching us. I don’t think he can hear us, but he’s definitely watching.”

Kalim and Ace’s eyes widened. “Where is he?!” Kalim whispered.

“Doesn’t matter,” Lilia said, gently taking Kalim’s face into his hands. “Just act like this is natural, okay?”

“What-” was as far as Kalim got before Lilia’s lips connected with his.

He was absolutely not prepared for that, but thinking of Jamil watching... He could pretend to like it. And he did, despite all his talk of not wanting to get back at his childhood friend.

When Lilia pulled away, he finally spotted Jamil across the courtyard. He’d stepped out from behind a tree, a look on his face that was a mixture of pain and rage. His eyes began filling with tears as he raced out of the courtyard.

“Ha! Did you see the look on his face?! Oh, the sweet taste of retribution...” Lilia sighed dreamily. “Oh, and Kalim? That kiss was strictly business, not pleasure. Just in case you were confused.”

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Shouted Ace, whose jaw had been hanging open ever since Lilia initiated the kiss. “What the hell, Lilia? That was so immature!”

“I won’t deny that, but you have to admit it was effective.”

Ace sighed, turned away from Lilia, and instead focused on Kalim. “Kalim? Are you okay?”

Kalim paused before answering. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered. He thought of the hurt and anger on Jamil’s face. He hated to admit it, but it felt... Somehow cathartic. “Ace? Does it make me a bad person if I... If I kinda enjoyed hurting him that one time?”

Ace frowned sadly, and opened his mouth to reply, when Lilia interrupted. “No. He hurt you, so it’s only natural to feel that way. You have every right to be angry.”

“Yeah, he has a right to be angry,” Ace agreed, “But that doesn’t mean revenge is the right thing to do!”

“Oh, who cares about the right thing at a time like this?” Lilia sighed. He turned back to Kalim. “I’ve got more ideas if you want more of that sweet emotional relief, Kalim. And I promise not to kiss you again without making sure we’re on the same page.”

Kalim looked down, fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know...”

Ace shook his head. “He’s going to find out that you guys faked that kiss. If you pretend to be in love he’s going to find out someday that it was all a lie. What’ll happen then, Kalim?”

Kalim jumped up from his seat, sending his lunch falling to the ground. “I need to think about this!” He cried as he ran back to the Scarabia dorm.

[lovemesomesurveys]

List three people you've had crushes on.: I’ll do celebrity crushes: Alexander Skarsgard, Joe Jonas, Johnny Knoxville. Have you ever been in love with someone that you watched from afar?: Not in love, but had major crushes on in high school. How old were you when you started your period?: 13.  How old were you when you had your first crush?: The first one I remember was in 3rd grade. How old were you when you were first head over heels in love?: Not until I was like 23.

Has loving someone ever made you miserable?: Yes. How bad are your worst cramps on a scale of 1-10?: I actually don’t get my menstrual cycle anymore due to health reasons, but back when I did I had horrible PMS/PMDD and my cramps were killer.  Have you ever thrown up from cramps?: No, but I felt nauseous and sick and pretty damn close. I used to have to take Dramamine because it got so bad. List three people you had a hard time forgiving.: Myself. There’s a lot I don’t forgive myself for right now. I forgive others a lot easier.  Is there someone you are currently struggling to forgive?: Like I said, myself. I’m hardest on myself.  What is the most physically painful thing you've ever experienced?: Pain from surgeries and chronic back pain. Do you have an embarrassing period story? If so, what is it?: No. Have you ever had bad cramps in class?: Yes. Have you ever thrown up in school? If so, what happened? Once. I was in 1st grade, I think. I just remember rushing out to the trash can. Have you ever left school because of cramps?: No. Did your school allow you to have pain medicine on you?: They didn’t know. Did your school have a nurse?: My elementary, middle, and high school did.  When was the last time you threw up?: Almost 2 years ago, but I came very, very close on a few occasions a couple weeks ago. Have you ever tried to starve yourself in order to lose weight?: No. Do you ever comfort eat?: I used to do that all the time. I was a major foodie a few years ago. My appetite and eating isn’t what it used to be anymore. Have you ever thrown your phone across the room in anger?: No. What was the name of your first crush?: Philip.  Who was your first celebrity crush?: Aaron Carter. How old were you when you lost your virginity?: I haven’t.  If applicable, what form of birth control do you use?: What is your sexual orientation?: Straight. Have you ever questioned your sexuality?: Nope. Are you happy with your gender?: Yes. What gender do you identify as?: Female. What gender were you born as?: Female. Do you identify as "religious"?: Yes. What spirituality are you?: Have you ever tried drugs?: Just weed. Have you ever gotten high off a prescription medication?: Yes. Not for the sake of getting high, but the pain medication I take and others I have taken in the past had that effect on me. Still do sometimes even though I’ve been taking this one for years. Have you ever been drunk?: Yes. Have you ever smoked pot?: Yes. Have you ever smoked a cigarette?: No. What's your favorite drug?: I don’t do any. What's your favorite alcoholic beverage?: None. I don’t drink anymore. How old are you?: 29. Do you drink regularly?: I don’t drink anymore. Are/were you abused?: No. Do you have a significant other?: Nope. If yes, are you happy in your current relationship?: If not, are you happy being single right now?: I’m just not happy in general. Do you want a significant other?: Part of me does, but I know I couldn’t handle that right now. Do you take drugs or drink to numb your pain? I take medication to help numb the pain.  Who is your current crush?: I don’t have one. Who is your current friend crush?: I don’t have a friend crush. Has a friend ever broken your heart?: No. Is your love life history tragic or magical?: Hahah definitely not magical. Not even close. Do you have regrets?: Many. :/ Do you prefer tampons or pads?: I don’t have a menstrual cycle anymore. Have you ever used a tampon?: No. What's your bra size?: 36B. Do you have a hard time finding bras in your size?: No. Can you still wear clothes from the children's section?: I could wear a shirt. Are you lonely?: :( Do you have allergies?: Yes.  Are you in control?: I haven’t felt in control in a long time. Do you have a relationship with God?: I do. It’s something I build upon everyday. What size pants do you wear?: 1. Do you wear girls, juniors, or women's clothes more?: Juniors. Do you HATE people who are controlling?: Well, yeah. How old were you when you started to have acne?: Like 13. Did your parents give you "the talk"?: My mom did. How old were you when your parents talked to you about puberty?: I don’t remember exactly. I want to say maybe 11 or 12. Do you like going to the doctor?: No. It’s something I have to do regularly and I hate it. Do you like going to the dentist?: Noooo. What's your favorite part of going to the dentist?: Absolutely nothing. Do you feel average?: I am very average. Do you feel insecure?: Always. Do you feel alone?: Yes. Do you feel exhausted?: Always. Do you feel depressed?: I am depressed. Do you feel anxious?: Yes. Are you haunted by your past?: Yes. Who's your best friend?: My mom. How often do you pray?: Not as often as I should. <<< Same. :/ Do you keep a journal or diary?: This is it. Do you relate to the characters in books?: Yeah. The books I read always have characters I relate to. Who's your favorite Disney princess?: Ariel.  Do you think you are attractive?: No. Are you happy with the way you look?: No. Especially not now. I have neglected myself in a lot of ways and haven’t taken good care of myself these past few years. Do you look more like your mom or your dad?: My mom. How many siblings do you have?: 2. What song describes your life?: Beautiful by Eminem has a lot of relatable lyrics. Do you cry a lot?: Yes. Are you sensitive?: Very. Do you take medication every day?: Yes. Do you take vitamins?: No, but I’m supposed to. Are you a meat-eater, or are you vegan or vegetarian?: I eat meat. I’m not a big meat eater, but I do eat it. Especially chicken. What's your favorite color?: Pastels.  Are you unique?: I don’t feel I am. Do you feel blessed?: I know I am in a lot of ways, and I need to acknowledge those things more but it’s so easy to focus on the negative/bad things and on what I don’t have. :/ Who is your favorite person?: Alexander Skarsgard. Has your favorite person ever hurt your feelings?: He could never. Do you write in cursive or print more?: Print. I only use cursive for my signature. Do you like to write?: I used to. Do you like to read?: Yes. What are your favorite types of books to read?: Fiction, YA/NA. Do you have neat handwriting?: No, my handwriting is shit. List three people you who you think are good role models.: Hmm. List three fashion trends you love.: I don’t keep up with any. Are you a trendsetter?: Ha, no. Do you like fashion?: I care about being comfortable and wearing what I like. Do you enjoy shopping?: Online shopping, yes. What stereotype do you fit the most?: I don’t know. Are you your own person?: Yeah. Are you a risk-taker?: Nope. Do you like fantasy better than reality?: Reality bites. Do you have "female problems"?: Are we back on the period stuff again?

What are you longing for?: Good health and a life where I’m actually living. Have you ever contemplated suicide?: Yes. Have you ever self-harmed?: Yes. How many people have you known who were suicidal?: A few. Do you get bullied constantly?: No. The only mean person to me is me. Are people jealous of you?: There is no reason to be. If you're a worshipper, how do you worship?: I worship God. How many tattoos do you have, and what are they of?: None. Do your tattoos have personal meaning to you?: If you don't have any tattoos, do you want one?: There’s one I’ve wanted for years, but I’m a big baby. Do you have your ears pierced?: Yes. Do you have any other piercings?: No. If not, do you want any other piercings?: Nah. What is your first and middle name, and do you like them?: Stephanie Anne. It's very boring. <<< My name is Stephanie, too! My middle name is also a simple one like that. What do you want to name your first daughter?: I don’t plan on ever having kids. What would you name a son?: Do you dream about your wedding day?: No. I don’t plan on ever getting married, either. What's your favorite food?: Chicken tenders, boneless garlic parm chicken wings, potatoes in various forms, eggs in various forms, pastas, ramen, and burritos. Do you have a secret you want to tell someone?: No. Have you ever had a friend turn on you?: Yes. List three friends who have turned on you.: Blah. List three people who have bullied you.: No one ever has. Do you have anyone you can trust?: Yes. What country do you live in?: USA. What's your favorite pain reliever?: I take prescription paid medication.  What do you do for cramps?: And we’re back to this. Do you wear make-up?: Very, very rarely now. Who has the cutest baby/babies you know?: A few of my cousins. Do you have a lot of people blocked on facebook?: No. What is your natural hair color?: Dark brown. Do you have a morning routine?: Medicine, coffee, Bible study.

[chokememrstark]

Consequences // Thorki

Words: 3681

Summary: After feeling sick for weeks, Loki finally finds out what's wrong with him. He knows exactly how it happened and the realization scares him more than anything else ever could. Their drunk night together was one thing, but the consequences of this night had not been part of the plan. This time he screwed up big and he doesn't know what to do now.

mpreg, drunk one night stands, self doubts, suicidal thoughts, illusions, hurt feelings, lots of tears, and a surprising ending

Notes: So, I was bored and this happened? Ignore that this is completely random, but I had many feelings about this topic and had to get them out.

Tags: @shebahda​ @brieflymaximumprincess​ @sassysupernaturalsweetheart​ @ginny-lily​  

Read on AO3!

 It's been weeks now that Loki felt sick, something that was getting harder and harder to hide. So far no one seemed to have noticed, but they would soon, there was no doubt about that. He didn't know what could be wrong with him, the healers couldn't figure it out when he had visited them two weeks ago, only told him he was physically healthy and yet his strength deteriorated more and more each day.

 Loki already feared he would never know what was happening to him when he jerked awake one early morning, his skin covered in cold sweat and a scream stuck in his throat. The horror of what could be going on hit him so brutally while he had been asleep that it took a few minutes before he managed to calm down enough to think again.

 “No… no this can't be, please no…” Loki jumped out of his bed, grabbing the first pieces of clothes he could find to get dressed and disappeared. He couldn’t go to the healers again, they would surely be able to give him a definite answer but they mustn't know. No one must know, that was clear.

 Loki sneaked through the secret passages of the palace until he reached the portal to earth - he would not would leave Asgard under Heimdall’s eyes, risking that he was interrogated or worse, stopped. When he finally reached earth and made his way to his chosen destination, Loki's condition had worsened again to the point where he had to stop at a corner to catch his breath. He was dizzy and weak, something he wasn't used to and it came with a horrible feeling of helplessness that made him unreasonably angry.

 It took much longer than he had expected, but after two hours he was finally back in Asgard, in his room and with an answer to his questions that made everything worse. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the little plastic thing in his shaking hands in complete disbelief. His eyes were stinging, but the tears didn't come. They would, but right now his shock was too intense, too fresh and brought the whole world with it when it crashed down.

 Eventually the tears did fall and they broke Loki out of his paralyzed state. He covered his face with his hands, barely muffling the sobs that shook his whole body. This was the worst thing that could have happened and now that it did it scared him to the very core, so much that he couldn't stop the horrible and painful visions of his future flooding his mind. How, how in the nine realms could this have happened? And what was he supposed to do now?

 “Mom…” Loki cried out to the only one he wanted to talk to, who might understand, but of course there was no answer. How could there be one, given his mother was long gone from his life? And yet, his mind didn't seem to bother. “Mom, I'm scared… I don't know what to do, please help me…”

 The silence he got as an answer was like a knife in Loki's heart. He threw himself into the bed, now not only terrified, but  also lonely and heartbroken. It was pathetic, a childish behavior if there ever was one, and Loki knew that, even though he couldn't have cared less. Maybe it was pathetic, maybe he was weak, but he had never needed his mother more and now it was too late.

 Hours passed before Loki finally left his room again. He had managed to collect himself enough to get up, even if every step made him feel nauseous and every breath made his heart ache. The cloak he had wrapped around himself didn't do much to disguise him of course, but it wasn’t necessary as he soon realized. The palace was almost empty and he was undisturbed on his way to his mother's chambers. When he slipped inside, he took a deep breath to brace himself.

 Ever since the queen's passing this room had been kept the way it was. Every week a maid cleaned the dust off the surfaces and made the bed, but everything else was still the way she had left it years ago. Being here, after all this time, brought back so many memories that Loki could barely make it over to the bed before his knees gave in.

 “Mother…” Loki sobbed again, this time more quiet and reverent. He sat there for a long while, his eyes closed and waiting, hoping against all hope, that he might hear her voice. But of course he didn't. Loki sighed in defeat, dropping his head. “I know I have no right to speak to you after the things I've said when I was imprisoned, but I didn't mean any of that. You were always my mother and I loved you like one… and now… now I need you more than ever before in my life…”

 Alone in this room where he had been so often during his childhood and where time was frozen for all eternity, Loki realized that his selfish behavior was finally his downfall. Nothing else had led to this moment, nothing else had led to his mother's death and all this time he had tried to excuse his behavior by blaming others. But the blame was on him and it hurt to see it so clearly now.

 “I screwed up big this time,” Loki sniffed, wiping his eyes to not stain the sheets beneath him with tears. “I can't do this again, not like this, it's impossible… I know you can't hear me but I would give everything to hear you tell me it will be alright…”

 “My sweet, misguided son...” a faint voice reached Loki's ears, not more than a quiet whisper, but enough to make him spin around with relief and happiness. And there she was, as kind and loving as he remembered her, the same smile on her lips he had seen on her so often; that special one she only reserved for him. His mother.

 Loki wanted to stand up, hug her and apologize for being an ignorant brat, but he couldn't move even his hands, so he was reduced to simply looking at her in wonder and pure love.

 “Are you… really here?” Loki whispered with tears in his eyes, earning a bitter smile in return.

 “You know the answer Loki, don't you?”

 A sudden wave of sadness washed over Loki at his mother's words and he turned his head away. He knew it, it was too good to be true. Of course she wasn't real, she was just a fragment of his memory and in his desperate state of mind he had created an illusion wearing her face, nothing more.

 “Loki, you're carrying too much in your heart, you cannot bear this alone.”

 “I can't tell anyone, I just can't,” Loki said, shaking his head. “It's not like those other times, this is different.”

 “Why is it different?” His mother's voice was nearer now and when Loki looked up she sat on the bed in front of him. “Tell me.”

 “Because…” Loki couldn't say the words that darkened his heart, they hurt too much just silently existing already. So in the end, he said nothing.

 “Loki, have I ever judged you during those times? Why do you think I would do it now?” Frigga asked, laying her hand on top of Loki's. There was no feeling to this touch, just a cold brush against his skin. “Why do you feel like you have to mourn? Isn't this something to feel joy about, rather than sadness?”

 “Joy about what? That I'm carrying my brother’s child?” Loki shouted, fresh tears blurring his vision and anger clouding his mind. “How is this not a catastrophe, how?”

 There was no answer and when Loki finally blinked away the tears he was alone in the room again, if he had ever not been. He dropped his shoulders with a sigh, feeling ten times worse than before. Even if it had just been his own mind bringing his mother back, the pain he felt was as intense as the last time she had disappeared. Loki covered his mouth with his hand to prevent himself from sobbing, but it was barely any help.

 Now that he had said it out loud, everything felt so much more real. This was never supposed to happen, not with him. It had only been one night, one drunk, reckless night… how could everything go so wrong? Loki knew that this would destroy everything, not only the little bit of trust Thor had been putting in him after all this time, but also how he felt towards him. Thor would hate him, he knew it. He would be as disgusted with his so-called brother as he was himself and Loki wished he could just disappear like his mother’s illusion and stop feeling anything.

 That night, after Loki had spent most of the day in his mother's chambers, crying over his own stupidity and selfishness, he walked the empty halls of the palace in darkness. Over the last hours a numbness had taken over him, one of those that drained the world of its colors and made every step feel like climbing a mountain. Loki didn't know how long he wandered around, but eventually he found himself on the rainbow bridge, gazing up at the starry night sky.

 It was a place he often came to in the past when everything was too much, especially at night. The silence was almost overwhelming and the view unspeakably beautiful. Tonight, however, it didn't manage to make him feel better in any way.

 “He will hate me when he finds out,” Loki whispered and wrapped his arms around his middle slowly. “I couldn't even blame him, who would ever want a monster like me to bear their child? I'm nothing but an abomination that has no place here to begin with.”

 There was a brief moment when Loki just wanted to push himself forward, ending the nightmare of his existence once and for all. Would Thor even care? Surely the rest of Asgard would applaud his death, but would Thor join them? If he was dead he wouldn't have to ruin his brother’s life with the news of his unborn child at least, but the thought of that made his insides twist. He couldn't do that, he just couldn't.

 Loki lowered his head, holding his stomach tighter and closing his eyes. He might be a monster, but he was anything but heartless. This child, no matter how it was conceived, was not to blame for his mistakes and he couldn't punish it for them by denying it its chance to live. Maybe he would simply leave Asgard, hide in Vanaheim or even Midgard, and Thor would never have to find out. Maybe he would take responsibility for something he did for the first time in his life.

 Suddenly heavy steps ripped Loki out of his thoughts and he quickly sat up straight, rubbing his eyes dry while trying to make out who had found him here. If he would have had any joy left in him, Loki would have laughed when he saw who it was. Thor, of course.

 “Here you are!” Thor said, visibly relieved and sat down next to his brother, who instinctively shoved himself away a little.

 “Were you looking for me?” Loki asked, trying to give Thor a surprised, but neutral look.

 “You've been acting strange for the past few weeks and I couldn't find you today,” Thor said quietly, looking up at the sky the way Loki had before. “I was worried you might be getting sick.”

 “I'm alright, you don't have to worry,” Loki said and shook his head. He didn't look up, instead he stared at his hands. The urge to tell Thor the truth was overwhelming, but the fear of his brother’s reaction was too strong to break through it. For Thor this had all been fun and games, Loki was sure of that, how could his reaction not be painful and cold?

 “I don't have to, but I do,” Thor eventually sighed, looking at his brother. “You're not yourself and I wonder why. Is something the matter?”

 “No, I… I just don't feel well, that's all.” Loki wrapped his arms back around his stomach in a defensive manner again, still refusing to look at Thor. “Why don't you go out and drink with your friends or something? I'm fine, really.”

 “So, you're pushing me away again without a reason?” Thor asked and Loki could hear that he was hurt by his words. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

 “You didn't do anything wrong,” Loki said and shook his head. “I just need to be alone, that's all.”

 “If it's because of that night, I-”

 “Thor, stop it!” Loki barked at his brother, silencing him mid-sentence. “I'm not a child anymore, okay? I don't need to be pampered and handled with care!”

 “Loki, what are you talking about?” Thor was completely stunned by Loki's sudden anger.

 “Why can't you just do what I ask of you and leave me be? Did you not get enough the last time? Do you need some fun and amusement again and thought I'd jump out of my clothes at your sight?”

 “How can you say such a thing?” Thor's voice was quiet and sad and it made Loki feel disgusted by the way he was treating him. “Is this what you think happened? That I used you for my amusement?”

 “What else was it for you then, tell me!” Loki wanted to stop yelling, wanted to stop being angry at his visibly hurt brother so badly it caused him physical pain, but he just couldn’t. It was like he had gone mad and couldn't  stop it. “What am I, if not a little toy for the god of thunder that he can use as he pleases?”

 “Loki…” Thor reached out with his hand, cupping Loki's cheek. At the gentle and warm touch, Loki felt his anger melt away slowly. “I'm sorry if something I said or did hurt you, but please don't think I would ever see you like that.”

 “You didn't hurt me,” Loki mumbled, leaning into Thor's touch a little. “I didn't mean to yell at you, I don't know what has gotten into me. Maybe I      am     getting sick...”

 “Then you shouldn't be out here,” Thor said with a smile, taking Loki by the hands and helping him on his feet. “Let’s get you to bed so you can rest.”

 Loki was baffled by Thor's concern about his health and didn't even think about complaining when he was guided to his room. At the door, Thor leaned down and pressed a kiss on Loki's cheek before wishing him a good night's rest and leaving him alone. Confused and close to tears once again on this confusing and horrible day, Loki stood at his door for a long time; a hand on his cheek as if to keep the kiss there somehow and unable to move. When he finally managed to get to bed he didn't even bother to take off his clothes.

 It was a short night, like all the others recently, and Loki was wide awake already when it was still dark outside. He laid there for almost an hour, trying to make sense of his feelings and the situation he had gotten himself into.

 Hiding the truth from Thor felt more and more like betrayal in Loki's eyes. Didn't he have a right to know about what was really going on? After all, they were both responsible for it in a way, weren't they? He couldn't just leave without saying a word, that wasn't fair. Even if Thor would banish him from Asgard and hate him, he had a right to know.

 Loki sneaked out of his room before sunrise, determined to face the consequences of his actions no matter the outcome. In front of Thor's room he hesitated to knock, doubt and guilt making him wonder if this was really a good idea or not. He would have left again and forget about his plans if it weren't for the sudden shuffling he heard behind the door, which finally made him summon all his courage to speak.

 “Thor, are you awake?” Loki asked loud enough for his brother to hear, but not waking him up in case he wasn't. He was nervous as hell, especially when he got an answer.

 “Loki? What are you doing here?”

 Thor was about to open the door to let him in when Loki suddenly panicked and grabbed the handle to keep it shut.

 “Wait, please…“ he said quickly, leaning his head against the door. “Just listen to me, okay? Please, I… I have to tell you something…”

 “Are you alright?” Thor asked worried, but luckily stopped trying to open the door. “Did something happen?”

 “That night… you know, when we were together…” Loki had to fight for every word, clawing at the door so hard his fingers hurt. “I swear I didn't know, it wasn't supposed to happen…”

 “Did I hurt you? Is that what happened?” Thor's voice was closer now and somehow Loki knew his brother was mimicking his position. It made him smile sadly as fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.

 “You didn't hurt me… it's something else and it's okay if you hate me and never want to speak to me again, really. I didn't want this to happen, you must believe me, please…”

 “Loki, for the love of Asgard, talk to me!” Thor's voice was desperate, something Loki had rarely hurt before and knowing how much worry he already brought into his brother was too much. He sunk to his knees, hands sliding from the door handle.

 “I… I'm with child, Thor…”

 There was dead silence after Loki's confession. He didn't think the absence of words could hurt so much, but it made him feel like his heart was bleeding. Cowering in front of his brother’s door he cried silently, waiting and hoping more than he thought he ever could that Thor would say something, anything.

 Suddenly two arms wrapped around Loki's shaking, slumped body and he was pulled up into an embrace so tight and relieving that all he could do was lean into it and bury his face against Thor's broad chest. He was trembling like a leaf, crying against his brother's robes and clinging to him for his dear life.

 “Loki, shh…” Thor whispered, an unfamiliar soft tone in his voice. He brushed over Loki's hair gently, his hand coming to rest on his neck. “Please don't cry, I would never hate you because of this, I mean it.”

 “You should!” Loki cried, all the disgust and hate he felt towards himself blinding him. “I'm a monster, a freak! It's all my fault because I was selfish and dumb and-”

 “Enough, Loki,” Thor said sternly, the sudden change of his voice actually shutting his brother up. “You won't blame yourself for this, do not even think about it.” He pushed Loki away enough to look him in the eyes that were still shimmering with tears.

 “Aren't you mad at me?” Loki asked quietly, his voice cracking and shaking.

 “Why should I be mad at you? Do you think I would deny my part in this?”

 “You won't?”

 “Of course not,” Thor said and pressed a kiss on Loki's forehead before carefully wiping the tears off his face. “How long do you know?”

 “Since… since yesterday…” Loki admitted embarrassed, avoiding his brother's eyes. “I was too scared to say anything, I didn't know how, I'm sorry…”

 “Stop apologizing,” Thor smiled and wrapped an arm around Loki to guide him into his room. There, he carefully sat him down on his bed and kneeled before him. He took one of Loki's hands while looking up. “I knew something wasn't right and I was worried about you, Loki. What happened between us was never just fun for me, please don't think that.”

 “Wouldn't you rather have the company of all those women lusting after the mighty god that you are?” Loki asked sadly, but Thor shook his head.

 “Why would I want any of them?” He asked, brushing this thumb over Loki's palm. “Tell me, why were you so worried about what I would say? Is it because you thought I would abandon you out of anger? Or is it because this night meant more to you than you admit?”

 Loki felt his face heat up, but his position made it impossible to hide it. How could Thor know? And why would he ask such a thing?

 “I enjoyed being with you greatly, brother,” Thor said before Loki had the chance to break out of his awkward silence. “This was not just a fun thing to do or something I did to brag about in front of my friends. I love you, Loki, don't you know that?”

 “You… you love me?” Loki's eyes were wide and he could feel his heart beating mercilessly in his chest. “But… how? How can you love me after everything I did to you?”

 “Because that's what I always did,” Thor smiled and laid his free hand over Loki's covering his belly. “You and that child you are carrying, I love you both and nothing can change that. Don't think I would ever turn on you, Loki. Please don't.”

 Finally, after all those doubts and tears, Loki's lips turned into a smile of happiness. He took his brother’s hand on his belly into his own, pressing it closer.

 “You are going to be a father,” Loki smirked, making Thor smiled in return. “How does that make you feel, you big ape?”

 “As happy as nothing else ever could, you little fool,” Thor said and pulled Loki into a deep and tender kiss that made the last worries in his brother’s mind fade away into nothingness.

[sakurauchiha2018]

Proud

So this little number popped into my head this morning. I’ve always wanted to see an interaction between Tsunade and Sakura, Kakashi and Sakura after the war. That��s how this came to be. It hasn’t been beta read, it’s really just a little Drabble but hopefully you all will enjoy 😊😊

“How are they doing Sakura?” Lady Tsunade’s voice fills the office. There’s hint of worry and just as much curiosity. It doesn’t come without saying we are all worried about the two saviors.

“They should be awake sometime tomorrow. Their bodies took a lot of damage and underwent so much stress.” It goes without saying that Naruto and Sasuke-kun are exhausted. I’ve been watching over them for the past few days and it’s not surprising the rate of healing they have. Both have been through so much in their young lives.

“That’s good to hear. In just a few weeks Kakashi will be taking on my role. I’ll need you to help him understand the structure of the hospital.”

“Yes shishou.” A wave of sadness washes through me. My teacher is leaving me. I should be happy that she can finally retire and spend quality time to herself. She’s earned that much. But I can’t lie, I’ll miss her.

“I’m so proud of you Sakura. You truly are a student worthy of passing her teacher.” A prideful smile spreads on my face and a heat rises to my cheeks. Closing the distance between us, my arms wrap tightly around her. This woman has been there for me, taught me everything she knows, and cared for me as her own daughter.

“I’ll carry on the Slug Sannin name with pride.”

“No, you’ll carry on something more meaningful. Sakura Haruno, legendary Kunoichi of the Hidden Leaf.” Her words are enough to cause the tears to drop from my eyes. I squeeze my told slightly tighter before moving away to wipe my face dry.

“Now, go check on your patients. We can meet for some sake later.” Shishou wiggles her brows at me as she ushers from her office. Once that door is closed I know she will shed a few tears of her own. That’s the type of woman my master is.

Once outside in the hallway, I notice a mess of grey hair to my right. My Sensei is casually leaned against the wall reading a dirty book. Typical Kakashi-Sensei.

“You know once you become Hokage, you won’t be able to read those smutty books anymore.” I tease as he closes the distance between us. Tucking the book into his back pocket slowly. Beneath that mask I can see a genuine smile.

“I’ll walk you to the hospital.” He’s acting strange. For the past few days Kakashi-Sensei hasn’t been seen. No doubt dealing with the political aspects of his new job. I remember sitting with Lady Tsunade through those excruciating meetings. Even I was bored now and then.

The walk is short but the tension between us is loud. Never before have I felt so awkward around my Sensei.

We’ve been through so much together. But at the same time, we haven’t been through anything. When I was younger I didn’t understand why he spent so much time teaching Naruto and Sasuke-kun. All I wanted was to be recognized as a true Kunoichi and Shinobi. I partially blamed him for my stunted growth.

But now I understand. They needed more guidance than I did. Naruto is the son of his deceased Sensei, of course he would feel obligated to protect him. Sasuke-kun is an Uchiha just like his deceased best friend. He wanted to make things different this time around. His goal was to teach them all he could to keep them safe.

In the end, he did. Kakashi-Sensei’s lesson of teamwork never left us. Even after so many years apart Team 7 still fought together as if nothing happened. And now we can continue to do so.

The hospital is quiet as we enter, a few new medic bow at me. I return the gesture quickly, slight embarrassment on my face. Just recently I’ve been name successor to Lady Tsunade as chief medic. Once her retirement is official, I’ll be in charge of the Leaf Medics. It’s a strange feeling but I couldn’t be happier. Being a medic is what I was destined for.

Entering Naruto and Sasuke-kun’s shared room we are greeted with the beeping of the monitors. Their bodies were drained of almost all energy and chakra. With their injuries I’m surprised that they recovering this fast. Getting their lost blood replenished was my number one concern once we rushed them back to the village. Kakashi-Sensei was trying to be funny and carried an unconscious Naruto while I had to help a barely conscious Sasuke-kun. Under that damn mask I knew he was smirking.

“They seem to be healing nicely.” I nod at his words as I read over the nightly physical. It seems they were more responsive last night. Which means they should wake up any day now. Signing off on the observations, I take the empty seat beside him. The smutty book hasn’t made an appearance which is shocking.

“Is everything okay Kakashi-Sensei?”

“Ah. I guess it is.”

My jade eyes glance over at him and I can see his eyes staring intensely at the two boys. His eyes are telling a different story. Even from here I can see regret and pain filling them.

“You know, back when I first met you three I thought you all were hopeless.”

“I remember the term ‘I hate you’ came up.”

A chuckle escapes both of our lips. It seems that there is more on my Sensei’s mind than I thought.

“I never thought that I would grow to love you three as my own family. To see you all surpass the previous Sannin and save the world, made me so proud.”

The sense of pride makes me feel as if I’m floating on a cloud.

“But I have to say Sakura, out of Team 7, you’ve made me the proudest.”

His words cause my eyes to widen and my jaw to slack open. Turning my head towards him, I take in his stiff composure. Kakashi-Sensei has his face rested on one hand while the other is gripping the chair arm tightly. Under those gloves I bet his knuckles are white.

“I spent so much time training Naruto and Sasuke that I never took the time to teach you anything. My guilt is part of the reason why I approached Lady Tsunade on training you.”

My mouth feels dry and a nauseous feeling settles in my stomach. My Sensei has never been this open with me before. Clearing my mind, I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Guilt?”

A heavy sigh escapes through the mask before he shifts to sit fully.

“Sakura, you were and still are the most matured on Team 7. From a young age I noticed your battle strategic abilities, your chakra control has always been impressive, and your genjutsu analytical abilities rival mine. I felt as if there was nothing I could teach you. I spent so much time training them that I forgot about developing your strengths.”

“Kakashi-Sensei you taught me more than you think. Watching you throughout the years I learned how to fight against an Uchiha to avoid the Sharingan. I learned to never give up. But most importantly, I learned that those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.”

It is his turn to be shocked by my words. Our first lesson as a team definitely threw us all for a loop. Even I was stunned by his passing remark. But I understand now.

“That’s why Naruto and I couldn’t give up on Sasuke-kun. No matter how many times I studied the ninja rule book or how perfect I can recite them, if I had to break them to save a comrade then I would. Your teachings are the reason why we are all sitting in this room together.”

My lips twist upward in a reassuring smile. Reaching over I lightly punch his shoulder causing him to laugh. It’s contagious as I join him. Laughter is a rare sound as of lately. Too much darkness has entered and left our lives. It’s good to feel normal again.

“Sakura, I’m proud of you. I apologize for not being the best teacher I could be. But you’ve exceeded all of my expectations. I’m honored that you still call me your Sensei.”

“I overheard your conversation with Lady Tsunade. I agree wholeheartedly that you are the legendary Kunoichi of the Leaf. Soon you will show the whole world what you’re capable of in the medical field.”

Joy rushes through my body and I lean over to hug my Sensei quickly. It’s an embrace that ends as quickly as it began. But now it’s truly does feel like everything is back to normal.

“You’ll always be my Sensei, Kakashi-sama.” Wiggling my pink brows at him I can see the sweat rolling off of his forehead. Looking back at my boys that lay in the beds, I let a small smile spread on my lips. Without a doubt things will change but our bonds will only grow stronger.

[arielofautumn]

Today, I saw my rapist

Warning: Long, graphic, and potentially triggering

I've been back and forth all afternoon about whether or not I should share this. In the end, I decided that I would type it up and see how I feel about hitting the 'Post' button once I'd gotten it all out. Maybe just writing this down would be cathartic, but seeing as I'm currently revising this opening, I think sharing may be a good thing, if not for me, then maybe for someone else.

Almost exactly 13 years ago I was 16, almost 17, and going out for a night with my cousin, our last hoorah before we started our junior year of high school. I ended up meeting who I thought was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen at the time. 6'2, blonde hair, blue eyes, cocky, in shape, he had just turned 20 and he was (physically) everything a silly teenage girl wrote about when she listed the attributes of a man she wanted to end up with.

I had just gotten out of a two year relationship, and I was still a virgin, having been raised by semi-fanatical Christian parents and I'd done all the heavy petting and making out that was possible without intercourse. So, when I met this guy, we'll call him Sam, I was beyond curious about my first REAL experience with sex and had just enough confidence in my body and overall sex appeal that when he hit on me and asked for my number I eagerly obliged. It didn't help that 16 year old me thought he was a virility god made flesh. I was young, I was overcharged with hormones, and I was armed with the sage wisdom of countless stolen Harlequin romance novels. I thought I was ready. He felt like "The One."

A few nights after meeting him, we had sex for the first time. Well, it was MY first time, and OUR first time together, but it definitely wasn't his. After all, he was a former football player and he knew he was attractive and he could sweet talk a nun. I was far from his first. But my naive teenage brain vowed to be his last.

This first time should have been a huge red flag about the man I had chosen to lose my virginity to. This would turn out to be the first of many red flags that I would ultimately ignore, up until a few months before leaving him. He wasn't gentle. He tried to talk me out of making wear a condom ("You need to know how it feels without it! And it feels better for me!") and at one point took it off for awhile before I began to panic and made him put on another. It hurt. And not because of my hymen breaking, that had broken several years prior when my graceful ass was trying to balance on a board of wood and slipped, my crotch breaking my fall and my hymen along with it. He made no effort to make this easy and pleasant for me. And he commented on my lack of a cherry to pop, but I'll get to that bit later. An hour after we finished, he insisted we go again, and not wanting to disappoint, I agreed. The second time hurt even worse as I was still sore, unused to this kind of pain, and he again didn't go easy on me.

Some of you may see where this is going. This story isn't one that portrays rape happening to a woman walking alone at night and getting attacked by a greasy pervert in a dark alley. My story is one that I think is way more common, and far less talked about.

Over the course of two and a half years I dated this guy. I graduated high school, skipped out on college because he didn't want me to go, and moved in with him. I saw each red flag but was too young and inexperienced to understand what they meant. Like that first night together, he insisted on sex every night, multiple times if possible. He didn't like foreplay, unless it was getting a blow job, and he convinced me that I should "take it" when he wanted to be as rough as he wanted. It was always implied that I wasn't good enough, wasn't woman enough, if I didn't have sex with him. When I hesitated at the suggestion of anal, he brought up ex-girlfriends who did it and shamed me into trying to measure up. I cried the first time we tried that, and he had to physically restrain me during the attempt. The pain is something that still makes experimentation in that area very difficult for me. On more than one occasion, when the thought of sex made me nauseous, we still did it anyway, despite me crying through it or asking him to go slower.

Sam was controlling, manipulative, popular, funny, and I thought I could shut out the horrible things about our relationship because he trained me to believe that this was normal. His friends and family loved him. I should, too. Women should want to please their men. Women should take what they have to give. It makes me sick to think about now, but fuck I had no real idea what was going on.

He constantly accused me of lying about my virginity because I didn't bleed that first time. He accused me of cheating on him if I didn't answer the phone when he called. He threw out my sexier clothes and bought me new ones that he liked, under the condition that I could only wear them when we were out together. I lost all contact with friends because he said the girls were sluts and would make me a slut, too and the guys would fuck me the first chance they got. I lost out on scholarships for creative writing, what I wanted to go to college for, when he convinced me not to pursue my education. My nerdy obsessions were stupid and I had to like what he liked and listen to what he listened to.

It took me TWO AND A HALF YEARS to finally get away. It took me even longer to realize that I was being raped. On some level I knew, but I never voiced it, not till much later, when the training had begun to wear off and I began to become my own person once more.

Today, I was grocery shopping with my husband and five year old daughter. Today, I looked up and saw Sam walking down the frozen section with his own daughter. As we walked past each other, I didn't make eye contact and pretended not to notice him. Only when my husband nudged me and sniggered that that guy had been staring at me did I tell him who it was. My husband knows this story. And today he got to put a face to a name and emotional scars that he sees in me from this man. Today, I saw Sam's daughter. A girl only a few years older than my own.

I found myself hoping that he came to realize what he'd done. Not just to me, but to the other girls he dated. I wasn't his only victim. I hope I was his last. For his daughter, if nothing else. I hope that one day, when I tell my little girl this story, she'll take what I learned the hard way and use it to protect herself from men like that. I don't want her to make my mistakes, I don't want her to confuse love with manipulation.

Today, I saw my rapist. I'm 29 now and married to a man that I drool over and that I love with all my heart and is the exact opposite of Sam. It got better for me. I got out. I found myself again. I hope that by sharing this, it may help someone in an abusive relationship. One they may not even realize they're in. One where they're still ignoring those flags.

[royal-writer]

The Expected

Last one!!! Also I love me some domestic Essamon fluff oooofff help me....

Her breath held. A knotted consciousness of elation and suspense. All the while, the doctor patiently put her equipment away in a neat black bag. Tools to check reflexes, a tongue compress, a needle prick, among others. The scribbled book filled with the physicians notes however, lay shut upon the table. Close enough that Essätha was tempted to reach out and take it, although she knew what most of it would say. Notes on her condition told verbally. Notes on her condition taken physically, that the woman had not yet spoken to her of.

The bed frame creaked as Essie shifted restlessly around. She twiddled her fingers to keep from snatching upon the opportune booklet. The thumping of her heart elevated impatiently. Could this woman be any slower? She hadn’t even removed too many items from her bag, for Heavens sake.

“Well Lady Essätha,” the woman stated as she clasped her hands in front of her heavy skirt, smoothing it out as she straightened. “Would you care for the good news first, or the bad?”

The pitter patter in her heart sank to a lowly normalcy. Reaching up, Essätha self consciously pushed dark hair back out of her face as she sat up stiffly. This should have been expected, but it never came any easier.

“The bad news first, ma’am,” she stated with a curt, pained, soft knowing.

Bobbing her pixie cropped hair in a nod, the woman reached for her notepad. She thumbed through a few pages with serious complexion, ignoring the unease of the Emerald Expanse’s baroness.

“The bad news is that you’re showing signs of bodily fatigue; likely from a lack of sleep and a slight change in diet I’ll be recommending. Not just for you, but for the good news I have to share as well. Congratulations, my Lady, it seems you’re pregnant.”

Her mouth hung open with a sudden and delighted gasp.

All this time. All these months of trying.

They’d had doctor appointments prior to leading up to attempting. A precautionary lineup to make sure they were in a health enough state to move forward with trying to have a child. Although they were given a promising answer, the results were not so lucky. They tried suggestions; they tried their own ideas, but it seemed like her fertility was just stubbornly unwilling.

The first time she’d thought she was pregnant, Amon had been eagerly by her side through the doctor’s appointment. It turned out a false hope. A tricking of the mind to the body into thinking she was expecting when she was not.

Then a second visit, a few months later, with some irregularity in her period that appeared much the same.

It shattered her hopes to dust. She was beginning to think she was cursed. Once again, fate upturning a cruel toothy grin and spitting in her face. All the fight in her life, all the struggle and hardship, and still the Gods themselves seemed against her. She’d faced her past, herself, her own insecurity and fears. She faced fiends and frights and monsters of the most unholy sight. Why could she not be allowed this? Was it a sign that she should just be thankful for her friends, her family, and forget the idea of being a mother?

When her period had not come, she made no fuss about it. Not a peep to her husband as she scheduled a doctor’s appointment, expecting much of the same news. His disappointment hurt even more than her own to see. Which was to say a lot, as her love for children and the idea of having one of her own was beyond measuring. But it felt a shameful failure on her part, as a woman and his wife, to be incapable of offering him the baby they both spoke so eagerly of having.

Essätha was nearly done expecting results. Maybe it was beyond her at that rate. Maybe it would be best they move on to the next series of options. She would not mind; in fact she’d still be willing at the moment, but it stung her pride and agonized her heart nevertheless.

She exhaled finally as the news suddenly hit her. A feeling as though it sank into her head, her heart, down to the depths of her blood and bones all at once.

“Are you sure?”

The woman laughed, watching as she anxiously licked her lips.

“There’ll be no telling with absolute certainty for a few months I’m afraid, my Lady,” the doctor reminded her, “but comparing this to all previous checks, I’m fairly confident. We’ll start you on a diet change to help promote a bit of weight gain, and I’ll be in touch for a follow-up in a few weeks.”

A stupidly huge grin that displayed a peek of her small fangs shone bright across her face. This felt like a dream, but it was too vivid to be so. She was awake, and she was finally pregnant. Her beautiful baby, with the most beautiful man she loved and trusted with all of her heart. Carrying a special piece of them both; a union of their love that was going to grow and become someone amazing.

The doctor smiled at her with understanding. The blessing she’d been praying for, trying so hard for, was here. Her eyes adverted, and only moved back to the physician when she offered her a handkerchief with a gesture to dab around her eyes. As Essie did so, the lady patted her knee gently.

“Now, do you have any questions for me that I can answer?”

With mind abuzz, Essätha laughed to herself as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

She had hundreds of questions, definitely. But at the forefront of her mind was just one: when would her beloved husband be home from his business meeting? Oh hogwash, it had to be the one time she’d kept it under wraps that he wasn’t here for the grand news! But Heavens above, she couldn’t wait to tell him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The droning hours of the clock seemed to ring on forever. The gong resounded again and again with no sight of her Lord Amon, and so Essätha’s tension rose and wound tight by the passing minute. She ate a recommended option of stag in a thin broth stew one of the handmaids said while waiting. It took everything from her not to scream that she was carrying then and there, but she wanted Amon to be the first to know other than the doctor and herself. It made her hold her tongue, and smile thankfully before shoveling the food in her mouth to observe silence.

Even the worst of rumors, she couldn’t wait to experience. Some women hissed of the pain, the swollen ankles, the constant agony in their backs. How they grew tender in their breasts and nauseous, or how the unusual feeling of something moving inside of them stopped being exciting and more an aggravation.

What was a few months of being uncomfortable, for a lifetime of loving someone so perfect? The best parts of you and the person you adored just as much as you would the faces that reflected pieces of them. She would be thankful every day, and follow every guideline presented to her. Whatever her discomfort may be, the well-being of the tiny new Illiad growing inside of her would be put above all else.

Besides the fuss, how terrible could it all really be, if she had her charming husband with her through it all?

If only he’d come home to know, she pouted with a chin resting to her hand and a sulky lower lip. Her fingers longed to run against his scalp and down over the thick trail of his whiskers and kiss upon his lips so sweetly. How the world felt different in his embrace when she threw her arms around him and he held her tightly close. The brush of his breath a whisper close to her ear as she’d shiver beneath his sweet nothings, and she would exchange to him honeyed words dripping with adoration.

Life was well and lively when he was gone still, it was. But the shine of the stars in his eyes and strength of his chest pressed close felt more like home than the manor, even after all these years.

Essie’s eyelids drifted closed and she dozed unexpectedly, to awaken at the sun nearing the horizon. The sewn lines in the sofa were temporarily etched into her face as she yawned and stretched, staring blankly around the silent house.

The knock at the door rapped once more. The true reasoning for her wakening.

“Lady Essätha? Lord Amon has arrived. He’s stabling his mare and should-”

“Send him right up!” she sang back; her voice coughing at the end with a dryness from sleep. She wiped at the side of her mouth with a grimace at the chapped nature from having drooled on the arm of the couch. Ugh. Lucky for her Amon hadn’t come in to see her in such a state.

“Yes, milady,” the feminine voice of the handmaiden replied, with the soft tap of her shoes moving down the hall.

Quickly as she could, Essätha scrambled off the lounger and dashed through to the bedroom. She flung herself into the seat before the vanity, grabbing her hairbrush and working through the knots and tangles through her hair. It left a slight fuzz of volume; as it always did, leaving her to resort to folding it up into a bun best she could.

With a dab of her fingers into a container of beeswax, she tapped some of the moisture against her lips and hurriedly situated her clothes. Up from the seat, she whirlwind moved around the room in a limbo state. Should she have changed? Was it too late to consider makeup?

An enormous barking of thunder filled the house. Even far from the foyer, she could swear she could make out the scramble of Caesar’s claws rushing through the house in a mad dash.

She echoed his sentiment, and overzealous nature while bouncing on her toes.

Depth and roughness. The edge of Amon’s laughter clung to the walls and filled the house as he spoke to one of the housekeepers on his way through the stairwell and down the hall. There was a gruffness in his lasting responses; none of the words Essie tried to define in her eagerness, as Amon offered a polite exchange of a farewell and they’d be down for supper shortly, before he opened the door.

Amon barely stepped a foot into the sitting room, when Essätha rushed him. Her hands found the edges of his cloak, and she seized upon him with a grinning kiss. A grunt pressed to her mouth with surprise; the outline and shape of him rigid against her before he relaxed and laughed as she pulled away.

“If I’d known you were so frantic to see me, I would have left for home sooner.”

Essätha held a breathless giggle. The golden brown of her eyes shifted over his features; trying to imagine seeing them in the face of their newborn in the coming months. The angles of his face, the firm lines of his jaw, the shape of his eyes. Perhaps they’d have his hair type; smooth and soft, or would they have her waves and curls in the folds of a medium thickness always adapting to frizz.

Her hands smoothed out the wrinkles she’d placed in his garments slowly. His endearing smile radiating into her core as he reached out, ever so gently cupping her face. The sweep of his thumbs circled across her cheeks as he leaned in, kissing her softly.

“I missed you, m’lord Amon,” she murmured to his lips.

His eyes twinkled. Only partly visible as he grinned so broadly his cheeks rose prominently. Studying her complexion; he swallowed her features with small shifts in his gaze. Devouring her with a look that spoke only to his heart’s affections and deepest longings.

“You act as if I’ve been gone an eternity, Essie,” he teased her gently.

It felt like one. All this day she was withholding such wonderful news! Guilty and ashamed she had not told him and then she had to hold it all to herself! It was a tragedy!

When she didn’t answer; a goofy smile on her face and words stuck in her throat, another press of his lips met the middle-ground of her skin and scales upon her cheek.

“You look enchanting this evening, darling.”

“Do I? Hmm, perhaps I have a glow about me.”

The phrase seemed to soar over his head. He smiled nevertheless, dropping his arms to wrap around her waist and cradle her close. Their bodies swayed; a motion to a song not heard but playing gently in their souls.

“How did your meeting go today, my beloved?”

“Well,” Amon stated reassuringly. “In fact, I could have been home sooner had I not gotten caught up in conversation. I apologize for making you wait, Essätha. You could have had dinner without me if you chose.”

“Oh I wasn’t thinking of dinner,” she replied, keeping a calm sheet over her face and masking her voice.

A thoughtful, questioning hum echoed in the Briarton Lord’s throat. He circled his fingertips into the small of her back as he moved; slowly guiding her into a lazy, shuffling dance across the floor.

“A doctor visited the estate today.”

Amon quirked his eyebrows upward.

“Who for?” he cautiously inquired. “Is everyone well-?”

“I hailed them,” Essätha hurried to answer. “It was for me.”

The slow waltz they had been gingerly making across the floor came to a stuttering stop. The previous way her beloved had studied her returned; but with more scrutiny now. His eyes narrowed a fraction; all happiness gone from his face as he looked her over. He pulled his arms from around her to carefully grab her arms, pulling them free from around his neck to slid his hands down her wrists and hold her hands.

Aching worry filtered over his face. His callused hands tightened around hers apprehensively as the feeling of his breath so close hitched higher.

“Is something wrong, my darling? Are you feeling well?”

Ooh bless his dear, gentle heart. She felt bad for not cutting immediately to the news when he made such sorrowful, puppy-eyed sad gazes like that.

“Not at all, m’lord Amon,” Essie soothed, “The physician had only good prognostications.”

He sighed heavily, relaxing the grip of his hands upon hers as he murmured, “Well that is good to hear, thank Pelor.”

A tiny, triumphant grin flashed across her face.

“Indeed, thank Pelor,” she agreed, pressing his hands to her abdomen. “Thank him for blessing us so much. We have each other, we have our health, and we are expecting.”

The relief stayed on the Illiad heir’s face for a few fractions of seconds on. It slowly faded as his eyes grew wide like a bloated full moon. He released a strangled note in his throat, looking from her face down to her stomach and back up half a dozen times with awe as his mouth hung open.

“You’re pregnant?” he rushed in a cracked voice, pulling one of his hands free of hers to press his palm over her tummy.

Essätha nodded, the tears welling up in her eyes once again.

“The doctor seemed very confident, yes.”

“Oooh Essätha if I’d known- I-” he swallowed thickly, rubbing his hand in gentle circles over her belly.

A merry, gentle laugh escaped her. She reached up with her free hand, encouraging him closer by sliding it against the back of his head. Her lips met his forehead tenderly as she smiled.

“Neither of us could be exactly sure, after the past few times,” she reminded him. “Even this might yet be another batch of bad luck, but I feel different.”

The light pressure of her beloved’s lips met the corners of her eyes. Stealing away little beads of tears as she smiled so hard she could swear it was going to crack her face and be permanently fixed there.

“Thank you, Essätha,” Amon whispered huskily against a lump in his throat, his forehead pressed to hers. He swallowed, clearing his voice though a waver still remained as he went on, “You have given me so much joy, so much to look forward to and so much love. You have filled my life with so purpose and drive I had long forgotten could exist. And now you are giving me another gift that I can cherish and love as much as I do you.”

Her eyes still spilled tears over the edge. Grinning up into his affectionate gaze, all the world’s offerings could not match what lay within them.

“I’m so fortunate, to be carrying your child. Our child,” Essätha responded in a voice that quivered. “I can’t even express how happy that makes me. They’ll be clever, tough, gorgeous, and gentle as their father.”

“Or as their mother,” Amon half-scolded, sliding his hand beneath her shirt as she shivered from the heated contact.

Smiling broadly, Essie leaned in to kiss his nose as she whispered: “I love you, m’lord Amon.”

“I love you, my darling Essätha,” her husband vowed in earnest, leaning in to mold his lips in a lingering weak-kneed delicateness against hers.

They parted slowly, staring into each other’s gazes.

“I have to tell Josephine,” Amon suddenly urged, his voice growing louder as he gushed, “I have to Josephine. I have to tell everyone! My wife’s pregnant; my beautiful, darling Essätha is pregnant!”

A laugh tore through her as Amon tore free from her; wild and chaotic. Though she missed the blanketed heat of him close, she had to press a hand over her mouth to try holding back her amusement. The shimmer in his vision danced as he paced before her. Energy too much to track; frazzling his hair as he ran his hand through it and began to speak in a rush that her ears couldn’t keep up with. His grin ever wide and prominent as he glimpsed to her between his back and forth that was going to dig a hole into the floor if he didn’t stop.

“My love,” Essätha cooed, reaching for him. “Relax, you’re going to wear through the carpet.”

“I’m very relaxed!” the nobleman defended, still grinning fiercely. “I’m going to be a father, Essie. We’re going to raise a beautiful child together; you’re carrying my child gods I-

With a sudden wave of passionate excitement, he took sudden but careful hold of her face and seized her in a burning, romantic kiss that silenced the universe for what felt like forever. Just her, him, and the small, innocent creation gradually growing and blooming inside of her.

It was all completely utterly and totally perfect.

[tardy-bee]

Intimidating - Five

A/N: The enochian is waaaay off on some parts, but I used an online translator and got the closest I could...lol

Summary: Crowley reveals the reason for his ambush and what is at stake, meanwhile Castiel and the brothers are trying to get you back.

Warnings: Panic attack (kind of), violence, language.

Pairing: CastielxReader

Part 4  Part 6  Masterlist

You were not scared. Nope. Definitely not. You had been in way worse situations than being held prisoner for the King of Hell, in a warded room where nobody could find you, you were sure you had. You weren’t scared, because if you were, you couldn’t keep a leveled head, and that was exactly what you needed right now if you were going to find a way to escape.

You scoped out the room that, in your opinion, was a bit too nice to be considered a typical ‘prison cell’. The walls were lined with fancy wallpaper that probably cost more than your whole wardrobe. There was a lit fireplace to your left and a two fancy velvet chairs perched towards it, the closest one with it’s back to you.

As you went to sit up, you found something was binding you by the wrists. Turning, you noticed a pair of handcuffs connected around a radiator heater...God, how old was this place.

You peered around, noting you were in a living room of sorts. There was a long plush couch facing towards a roaring fireplace, although your view was stopped by the big chair in front of you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, wondering what you were doing here, when it all came back. The party. The Monsters. Crowley. Sam and Dean....Castiel.

Your right hand, which had been severely twisted and possibly broken by Crowley, was now wrapped delicately in a bandage, ice laying atop of it.

Well, at least it won’t swell as much.

You jiggled the handcuffs once more, peering down and noticing how tight they were and wincing at the rawness of your wrist, not to mention the now dominant throbbing in your most-likely-broken right wrist.

“No use in trying to escape darling,” A sultry voice sounded, presumably from the chair blocking your vision from the fireplace, “Might as well get comfortable.” He spoke once more,

“It’s kind of hard when I’m chained to a radiator,” You huffed. Maybe it was the realization of how cliche this was, or maybe it was your mental exhaustion from these late events, but you decided sarcasm seemed like the far better response than the logical route,

Crowley scoffed at that, standing and turning to you, scotch in his hand,

“Do you really think your snark is a good idea?” Crowley asked, raising his eyebrows at you and gesturing around the room, “Given your situation, I’m not quite sure you can afford it.” he mused.

You rolled your eyes at that, resting your head against the radiator,

“Nicest prison I’ve ever been held in,” You grumbled, more to yourself than the demon studying you as your eyes continued to scope out the lush room, your tone being more of a coping mechanism than anything.

“I’m sorry that it’s come to this love,” Crowley sighed unsympathetically, his own eyes in-taking the luxury he was surely used to as the King of Hell, “You know, I never wanted you to get in the middle of this.” he sipped his drink once more.

You glared at him then, vexed by this whole situation,

“Middle of what?” you growled, knowing he would never answer you.

Not to your surprise, Crowley didn’t answer, and you rolled your eyes, deciding to focus on the carpet once more, ignoring the nagging feeling of dread, and instead search for some kind of escape.

Your eyes had landed on the poker by the fireplace. You knew it wasn’t much, but it was a weapon. You couldn’t get to it now, not with Crowley in here, and not with the handcuffs. Dammit that was another problem. There was one no door, only an entryway that led to who knows where...probably just a hallway, but you knew it was your only shot.

“If you’re looking for escape points,” Crowley spoke, his voice tearing you from your thoughts, “I’d stop now. You’re not going anywhere love.” he smirked as you straightened your shoulders.

“What if I’m hungry?” you asked, a knowingly useless attempt to get the demon to leave the room. Crowley rolled his eyes at that, seeming to have a mental debate with himself before speaking,

“I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he sighed, seeming to not care much about your human bodily functions as he pulled out a stop-watch from inside his suit-pocket.

“What if I have to use the bathroom?” You pressed, at this point your only intent being to annoy him enough to leave the room.

He didn’t answer you, instead tucking away his pocket watch and turning from you, making you furrow your brows. This was the first time you’d noticed he seemed to be a bit nervous, as if he were on edge.

His eyes were scoping out the room, as if he were expecting some kind of imminent danger, and his fancy shoes were tapping against the carpeted floor in an erratic rhythm.

“Crowley...” You finally spoke uneasily, your nerves spiking as you soaked in the realness of the situation...why did he have you here? It wasn’t like him to just kidnap people for company...he needed something...or...Your head snapped up as realization dawned upon you.

“Who is it?” You spoke, making the King’s head snap towards you, “Who’s threatening you?” You elaborated as Crowley’s mouth fell open, resembling a fish out of water. You would’ve snorted if it wasn’t for the seriousness in this dire situation.

Reassembling himself, he cleared his throat, “I’m afraid I don’t understand love--”

--”Oh cut the shit,” You interrupted with annoyance, “I’m going to find out anyway so you might as well tell me now.” you huffed as Crowley visibly swallowed his nerves.

“Her name is Reawth,” He began, grasping onto the glass to prevent you from noticing his shaking hands, “Thought she was a legend, but apparently not. She’s building up a nice little army--”

--”But you’re the King of Hell,” You interrupted with confusion, “Couldn’t you just...stop her?” Crowley looked visibly annoyed by your ignorance,

“Don’t you think I would’ve by now?” He scoffed, “You haven’t been down there. I haven’t been in charge for a while.” He explained, “Reawth is kind of the monster mommy and daddy demons warn you about when they tuck you in, she’s...beyond terrifying.” He visibly shivered, attempting to hide it with a clearing of his throat as he went on, “She wants exactly what any cliched villain wants, to rule the world, and she knows that every apocalypse has been stopped by none other than our mutual friends Moose and Squirrel so, she’s not taking any chances.” He sighed, “She’s made the mistake of underestimating before and...well...I’m sure you can piece the rest together,” He gestured, “So I killed a few here and there, got myself hosting a ‘monster party’ of sorts, knowing that not just any occasion would warrant the brothers’ appearance, I didn’t expect you, or their tag-a-long angel, but...” He trailed off, shrugging, “She told - no, ordered me to bring them to her, or she’d, quote ‘rip my insides out through my teeth and make me taste them for the rest of eternity’...” He swallowed again, his nerves getting the better of him as he pulled out his stopwatch once more.

You refused to allow yourself the luxury of being afraid, instead opting to close your eyes tightly for a second, soaking in the information as you snorted,

“Well that’s a foolproof plan your majesty,” You chuckled, the amounts of emotions seeming to overwhelm your senses as a frightful tear trickled down your cheek before you looked up, “But in case you haven’t noticed,” You gasped sarcastically, “I’m not Sam and Dean,” You smirked, praying to anyone that was listening that the brother’s wouldn’t follow you here.

He mimicked your smirk, much to your surprise, “I’m sure the boys are tracking your phone as we speak,” He said, pulling out said object and displaying it to you,making your eyes soften in concern, “Angel warding symbols are up, and they should be here any time now...hopefully not too late.” He said, mumbling  the last part to himself as you tensed up, your eyes wandering to that fire-place poker once again and groaning at the hopelessness of the situation.

You threw your head against the wall and winced at the pain of one of many pins used to keep your hair up digging into your scalp, the sound going unnoticed by the distracted and visibly anxious Crowley.

pins!

You almost smiled at the revelation, thanking the typically overrated beauty standards for deciding that updo’s were ‘in’, and providing you a key of sorts for your predicament.

This was it, your plan was in motion.

Meanwhile...

Castiel had wasted no time searching the whole town for you, knowing his wings would have grown tired if Angel’s didn’t harbor copious amounts of stamina.

The Angel growled in frustration after searching the last building - a gas station on the edge of town - and threw his hands into his raven hair as he squinted his eyes shut in a useless attempt to calm himself.

He could physically feel his grace buzzing against the inside of his vessel, struggling to stay contained, he was losing control, and he needed to relax, although he wasn’t sure how. You were fine, he had to believe that. He felt nauseous at the thought of you in imminent danger. When he’d been banished by that damn sigil, he had fought with every ounce of his being, struggling against the current until the pain was almost unbearable. It wasn’t enough to stop the banishing Sigil’s effects completely, but enough for him to speed up the process, despite it being all in vain.

He growled, his hands falling from his hair as he attempted to calm his breathing, a memory of you in his mind as his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides

Castiel was filled with rage and sadness, his nostrils flaring and his breath ragged, it was rare moments like these where he could feel himself losing control, and he understood why so many beings feared him. He didn’t understand why he was feeling this way, what had triggered his anger? It had just been a hunt the boys had called for help on.

Perhaps it was how close he’d come to seeing them ripped from him forever, so close to death, or maybe it was the uselessness he felt when that witch had thrown that spell on him, softening his abilities to help them, it didn’t last long, but it was long enough for the brothers to get themselves into a predicament.. Was he only there because his powers were useful?

If you hadn’t shown up there to save them at the last minute, bursting through the door like a knight...he didn’t want to think about what could-- no, would have happened. Despite having healed the brothers, and them assuring him that he was a big help, he was not convinced, opting to a simple nod before he left the motel room, and now he was standing in the alley of the motel, his emotions and anxiety’s overwhelming his senses.

The pressure was immense and he wanted to burst, to scream, to break...and he very well might have...but then a hand was on his shoulder.

He whipped his head around in alarm, coming face to face with your kind (E/C) eyes, full of understanding. His shoulders tensed in surprise. before relaxing upon realizing you were no imminent threat, although still feeling that undeniable pressure in his vessel.

Upon noticing his state, you didn’t ask if he was okay, and for that he was thankful, he didn’t know how he would respond, or if he could, his mind was racing with a million outcomes to a million scenarios, all dreadful.

“Breathe,”

You had said it so softly, like it was the easiest thing in the world, like you believed he could. He knew Angel’s didn’t need to breathe, and that the activity was pointless, but he still found himself trying to follow your instruction, only to discover the difficulty in the task.

Upon noticing his struggle, you breathed in slowly yourself, egging him on. He followed your motions, breathing in as well before you released your breathe, and he did as well, although his own was much less smooth and much shakier than yours.

You breathed in again, and he followed, his breath a bit more even than the first as the two of your eyes bore into one another. He found himself calming through your stare, much to his astonishment, and as much as he would deny it to himself, your presence did help him feel better.

The two of you stayed like that, breathing in tandem until Castiel felt stable enough to clear his throat and stand up straight, his eyes looking anywhere but yours,

“You good?” You asked softly, your voice full of sincerity, not pity or amusement, just compassion.

He didn’t answer, instead brushing past you as if you weren’t there, knowing it was rude but forcing himself not to care. He was filled with confusion and embarrassment, and flew himself away to someplace extremely populated so he didn’t have to deal with his conflicting thoughts about you.

Looking back on it now caused guilt to pool in his chest. It was so rare of you to be in his presence, let alone talk to him, and he had simply brushed you off, without a thank you or even a nod in acknowledgement, and now he kicked himself for it...he may never get to apologize to you.

The thought caused that familiar pressure to pulse once more, stronger than before and striking fear in the Angel.

Recalling your instructions, he breathed in slowly, attempting to keep his oxygen in his lungs before releasing slowly, his breath coming out shaky. He did it again, and again, growing more and more agitated with each attempt.

He shouldn’t be wasting his time doing this! He shouldn’t be worrying about himself when you could be dead!

Crash! Boom!

Uh-oh...opening his eyes in shock, he took in the disarray of the gas-station. Everything was knocked over, the glass from the refrigerators were shattered, the shelves were on the ground, every window was in pieces...well, that works too. Even the security cameras were toast...at least there’d be no evidence.

He left the Gas-Station without another thought, headed for the bunker, and paying no mind to the bewildered worker behind the cash-register desk who would most definitely be suffering from some form of trauma in his future.

Appearing at the bunker, and apparently scaring Dean ‘half-to-death’ Castiel voiced his thoughts, paying no mind to Dean’s incorrect statement about his livelihood.

“We need to find y/n,” he spoke, his voice calmer than he felt inside, thanking his Angel training for having taught him how to hide his emotions.

Dean scoffed at that, holding his hands up,

“No shit Sherlock,” He bellowed, “We’re trying to track her cell phone, although I doubt Crowley hasn’t destroyed it by now.” he pinched the bridge of his nose as his brother was typing away on his computer, attempting to break the encrypted code in your phone, “And where the Hell have you been?” He stood from his chair, a glare in his brow, “We had to take care of those people and bodies on our own, and you-” He poked Castiel’s chest with his finger, “Decided to stretch your wings!” he yelled as Castiel straightened up.

Dean had a few inches on the Angel, but it didn’t make Castiel any less intimidating,

“I’ve been searching all around this damn city for y/n,” Castiel growled, not caring to notice Dean’s flinch at his surprising use of the language. His voice was subtly grew louder and louder as his frustration increased, “Gnai ip iadanamad bajile adagita peranuta, Dean. Ti zomdv apeta pii do ”  he growled through gritted teeth, his emotions only seeming worthy enough for his native tongue, the pressure in his vessel threatening to burst as a couple lightbulbs popped behind him.

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, his brother’s expression matching his own.

“Maybe we should all calm down,” The youngest of the three spoke, his eyes nervous, “We’re all working to find Y/N.. She’ll be fine, but we need to focus.” he reassured, his reasoning more directed at Castiel in an attempt to calm the obviously distressed Angel.

Dean swallowed, stepping back to join his brother at the table, “Yeah, okay,” He brushed off, attempting to keep his voice level as to not show his unease with Castiel’s behavior as he cautiously sat back in his seat and turned towards his laptop, the two hunters setting to work on finding you once and forming a plan once again.

Once the room became silent, filled only with the breaths and typing of the hunters, Castiel sighed softening his gaze. Reluctantly, he took a seat at the war room table, clasping his hands in front of himself in an attempt to ease their shaking. He didn’t understand how you could make him feel this way. Just having you there was enough to ease the constantly over-bearing weight on his shoulders...but you weren’t here.

He thought back to earlier that night, he had been so close to you throughout the evening, it was as if he were drawn to you, and it did things to him. It was confusing, and conflicting and he didn’t like it...or did he?

“Oh my God,” Sam spoke, interrupting the Angel’s train of thought, just loud enough for them to hear.

“What?” Dean asked, coming to stand by Sam’s computer in alert, his eyes widening at the revelation.

Castiel had jumped up as well, wasting no time in coming around the table and instead opting to appear behind them to look at the small blinking red dot on the laptop.

You.

“We found her…” Sam sighed, shocked, letting out a small chuckle.

“Then let’s go,” Castiel urged, standing straight to teleport the boys with him, but fully prepared to go alone if need be.

“What?” Dean scoffed, turning back to the Seraph, “Are you for real right now?” He asked before looking at his brother, “Is he for real right now?”

“I am ‘for real’ right now, Dean,” Castiel grumbled, his brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance at the vexing hunter before him.

“Cas,” Sam sighed, turning towards him, “We can’t just barge in there without a plan, we don’t know why he brought her there, It could be a trap to lure us in. Crowley said he wasn’t expecting y/n to be at the party, he must just want us.”

Castiel almost growled in frustration before harshly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He blamed himself for this situation you were in, if he’d been paying more attention he surely would’ve been able to stop the whole ordeal from happening, but you were just so distracting.

“Yeah,” Dean interrupted, “Either Crowley’s really stupid, or planning something, I’m betting on the latter,”

Castiel knew they were right, so clearing his throat, he stood up straight,

“Alright,” He agreed, “What’s the plan?”

Much to your relief, Crowley had reluctantly agreed to getting you something to eat, at least he wasn’t completely evil. I mean, it did take your stomach growling on for a good 8 and a half minutes before he sighed in annoyance and left the room to grab you a plate of...what you hoped would be edible food. Thank God for the one time your human bodily functions came in handy.

Grumble

...despite their annoyance.

As soon as he’d left, you craned your neck as much as you could in your position to insure he was indeed out of sight. Once you decided the coast was clear, you -with much difficulty- managed to pull a pin from your hair, a strand of h/c falling with it to frame your face, not that you cared about how your hair looked in this moment, and tucked it behind your back, not wanting to be caught if the demon returned before you were ready.

Speak of the...Crowley...He decided to make an appearance right as you began bending the bobby-pin into the shape you desired for easier picking. Before you could start the conversation with a snarky sentence such as ‘what took you so long?’ a full ziplock bag hit you square in the fourhead. You clenched your eyes shut in surprise, your mouth gaping open in shock upon re-opening them to look into the self-satisfied smirk of the -former- King of Hell.

“PB and J,” He answered, still dawning that malicious smirk as you raised your eyebrows in bafflement. “‘Ts all I can make, so…” He trailed off, motioning to the ziploc bag full of your dinner now on your lap, “Enjoy,” He offered, pulling out his stopwatch once more.

“Did you just…” You scoffed, regaining your footing, “Did you just throw a sandwich at me?” you glared, disbelief in your voice as he put his stopwatch away, looking like he was far off and had to focus on your question much harder than needed,

“Hm?” He asked, “Oh that? Well...yes,” He offered, going to pick up his scotch once more, seeming disinterested in you and instead getting lost in his own fearful mind.

You knew you had to be quick, you had to get out of here before Sam or Dean could get here, knowing of the undeniable danger they’d be put in. Sure those boys were tough, and had a knack for surviving impossible situations, but you weren’t sure they could survive this. You also knew that with Sam and Dean, usually came Castiel...and you were hoping he was safe.

You knew you didn’t want to think about him right now, the Angel would surely take control of all your thoughts and leave you unable to concentrate, but you couldn’t help it, he was lodged in your brain. Throughout the night he’d been so close, closer than he’d ever been, and you’d cursed yourself for being distracted by him once again. Those deep ocean eyes were like a beacon, and you were a moth to the flame, you couldn’t help yourself. He’d always been so cold towards you, and you him, but maybe things would change...you know, when you weren’t being held captive by a demon.

The night had been pretty pleasurable, and you’d found yourself enjoying his company, despite your nerves. You should’ve known it wouldn’t have been that simple. You thought back to the party and the monsters...all those monsters. Sure, you all had a leg up on them, but that didn’t mean that a small distraction couldn’t send the whole thing tumbling down, like, oh who knows, a member of their team being kidnapped by the Demon King of Hell? If anything happened to them you weren’t sure you could--

The very quiet ‘click’’ of your handcuffs unlocking shook you from your dreaded thoughts, and caused you to take a deep breath in anticipation, looking up at Crowley with caution and noting his back was towards you, his focus on the far wall, most likely lost in his thoughts.

Carefully, you dropped the handcuffs off your uninjered left wrist and onto the carpeted floor, your eyes locked on the Demon  in the room all the while as not to snap him from his trance. Sneaking a look towards the fireplace poker, you debated waiting until Crowley left the room again, but debunked the idea, deciding that could be hours from now, and you didn’t know how much time you had; You did, however, know that the longer you stayed here, the less time you had to warn Sam and Dean of the events taking place.

Removing your heels with one of your hands carefully, you moved to a crouching position, your eyes still trained on Crowley lest he decided to turn around. You moved quietly towards the weapon in mind as quietly as possible, holding in a wince when the floor beneath your feet creaked slightly. You snuck a cautious look towards Crowley and mentally sighed in relief at the notice that he hadn’t heard.

Approaching the brick slab surrounding the fireplace, you delicately removed the poker from it’s stand, looking over your shoulder once more to find that The Demon keeping watch on you hadn’t taken notice of your movement...yet.

You debated attacking Crowley with the poker now in hand, but knew that it would do hardly any damage, if any at all and sighed mentally, looking towards the exit. Well, you didn’t know if it was an exit, but you did know it was all you had. Sure, sneaking out was risky, but not as risky as attempting to overpower the much more physically equipt -not to mention uninjured- Demon not more than three yards in your line of vision, and decided caution was the better option this time around.

You kept to the edges of the room near the walls, knowing the floors there would be the least noisy and almost patted yourself on the back when you made it into the long hallway before reminding yourself you were not in the clear yet. You carried on, not even sparing a glance towards your abandon heels you were glad to be rid of.

Left, Left, Right.

There was that kitchen Crowley must’ve made your sandwich in. At the thought, your stomach growled involuntarily and you cringed, cursing yourself for not having ate the sandwich when you had the chance, but not dwelling on the thought as you made your way down yet another hallway.

This wasn’t any ordinary house, but a mansion of some sort, and you could only pray that there was some kind of exit. Your thoughts wandered to Crowley’s earlier words

“If you’re looking for escape points,” Crowley spoke, his voice tearing you from your thoughts, “I’d stop now. You’re not going anywhere love.” he smirked as you straightened your shoulders.

He could’ve been telling the truth, although you doubted it, what would he have to gain from that? You kept your bandaged right hand against the wall delicately, as not to cause it any more harm, presuming that if you continuously take rights, it would eventually lead you out of here.

Much to your surprise, after you lost track of how much time you’d been wandering, you arrived at a much larger room full of paintings and even a few windows, displaying the early sun’s rising, reminding you of how exhausted you really were.

Your eyes scoped out the room, landing on a large white door a few paces in front of a large marble staircase and almost sobbed in relief. You took a deep breath, keeping yourself collected as you approached the large wooden door. You were fairly certain Crowley knew you’d disappeared by now and was out looking for you, so you practically rushed to the exit, your hand delicately landing on the brass knob.

“Ahem,”

You froze, your eyes widening in realization and fear as Crowley’s voice rang through the otherwise quiet room,

“What were you expecting love?” He questioned, “Thought you could just wander out and I wouldn’t notice? No shoes or anything?” He almost sounded amused, but you knew better. You slowly turned to face him, your eyes slowly rising to meet his wrath filled ones and kept the poker behind your back, out of his line of sight.

He approached, his glare deepening as he grabbed your upper right arm tight enough for you to wince, and pulled you close,

“You’re not going anywhe--”

The fire stick poker in your hand shot up to hit Crowley square in the jaw and sending him back a few paces. You wasted no time turning on your heel and running out the door, the iron weapon abandon with a clatter on the floor left behind.

You bounded off the porch, early morning sun lighting your way down the stairs and onto dirt path. You took no time to notice the wheat field around you or the massive driveway you passed, only concerned with getting as far away from Crowley as fast as you could. You’re lungs burned as you heaved and your adrenaline blocked out the pain throbbing in your right wrist.

As you were running, you struck into a blunt force, blocking your path as you let out an ‘oomph’ and fell on your rear onto the dusty ground. Looking up, you came face to face with Crowley again, his face now red with rage, and you surmised the fire-poker didn’t do as much damage as you were hoping.

He grasped you by your injured wrist this time, causing you to let out an involuntary pained cry as the world shifted around you and you were back in that damn room again. You whined pathetically as he squeezed your wrist harder, your tears blurring your vision as he glowered down at you,

“You little twit,” He growled, “I swear if I didn’t need you I’d--” He froze mid sentence, his eyes trailed past you into the room as his expression shifted from rage to fear and he let go and backed away from you immediately.

After furrowing your brows at Crowley’s actions in confusion, you wasted no time bringing your hand up to asses the damage done to your already pained wrist, and almost sobbed at the pulsating pain, You had no time to curse yourself for your weak display as Crowley spoke up,

“Reawth…” His voice came out hardly above a whisper, as if it pained him to even speak. Your head whipped around to follow his gaze and your eyes landed upon a dainty woman with long black curls, standing in the middle of the room, her eyes full of malice as she stared Crowley down. The woman wasn’t even glaring, but you could tell she was full of anger.

In all honesty, you were a bit surprised, having expected some being larger than life and instead witnessing a small girl with doll-like features, although you had a feeling you shouldn’t underestimate her. You refused to take any steps back as the demon had, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of hurting your pride, despite already witnessing you clutching your broken wrist and whining at Crowley’s clutch on said limb.

Crowley snapped out of his trance and fell to his knees immediately, his eyes trained on the floor,

“You’re majesty,” He corrected himself, keeping his eyes off of her, making you think it’s some time of submissive thing. You’d forgotten that Crowley was once just a commoner amongst demons, and knew how to play the part of the dog, but you were sure there was no faking his fear.

The woman scoffed, not having even spared you a glance yet as she spoke,

“Oh get up you piece of filth,” Her voice was hardly threatening, causing you to be taken-aback at the words themselves.

Crowley wasted no time obeying her orders, standing slightly behind you as he kept his eyes cast towards the floor in fear, practically shaking.

She must really be a big deal

You were surprised at your lack of fear in this situation, possibly because it didn’t seem to be directed towards you, and instead your eyes shot towards the hallway once more. You knew your chance at escaping again were slim, but you also knew the chances of her letting something worthless to her live were even slimmer.

Reawth looked at Crowley expectantly, her head tilting in askance.

Crowley seemed to choke on his words as he spoke, “I’m sorry your majesty,” He twiddled his thumbs, and your eyes shot towards the hall doorway once more,

“...I couldn’t aquire the hunters--”

--“You couldn’t complete the one simple task I gave you?” Her voice was sharp now, her lips in a thin line, as her frustration grew.

--”I--” Crowley tried,

--”Don’t interrupt,” She boomed, causing you to flinch backwards slightly, retreating only a couple steps. Even from your distance, you could see the darkness lingering in her eyes, “I gave you one instruction, and even offered you a reward...not being killed. Just out of curiosity, what went wrong?” Her voice grew softer as she approached Crowley, but you knew not to let your guard down despite her demeanor.

Crowley swallowed, “I--” he began before she tsk’d him,

“Uh-uh,” she waved her finger, a smirk slithering across her features as said finger pointed to the ground, “I want you on your knees for this bit,”

Crowley did as she asked, falling one knee at a time before biting his lip, his breathing slightly erratic as Reawth crouched beside his face, grabbing his ear and growing pleased at the pained wince he let out.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” She asked, the sickly sweet tone to her voice unnerving as you took a cautious step away once more.

The demon snuck a worried look towards you. At Crowley’s non-immediate answer, she pulled harder on his ear,

“I underestimated their resources your leighe,” He cried out, “I figured they’d be on their way to rescure their team-mate,” He looked at you, immense guilt in his eye. You would’ve glared at him for throwing you under the bus, but honestly, you couldn’t blame him, “They’re tracking her phone,” He gulped, looking back to the brunette woman who looked at you dismissively, as if you weren’t worth her time, before snapping her sharp eyes towards you once more, this time looking much more interested.

She released Crowley and stood, seeming not to notice his relieved breath as she squinted her eyes towards you, her orbs seemed to be looking through you, leaving you feeling exposed.

As she approached slowly, power emitting from her small form, you went to take another protective step back, only to realize you couldn’t move, and chalked it up to her abilities. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her, not even to assess Crowley’s current condition, they were locked on her intrigue filled orbs.

This was the first time you’d seen her genuinely looked shocked as she turned around you, taking in your form before stopping at your face, her eyes boring into your own, as if searching for something before her mouth fell agape,

“Oh,” She almost gawked as a dainty hand came up to stroke your face gently - as if she were worried you’d break - sending tendrils of relaxation untensing your muscles and leaving you sated, the feeling traveling to your injured wrist and eased it’s throbbing until the pain subsided completely. You wished you could smack her hand away, or at the very least glare, but alas, you were still immobile, a victim to her touch.

Her eyes were still searching yours, and you found yourself growing more and more confused at the disbelief in her expression, wondering why she hadn’t just killed you yet.

“Merifri tiolb…” She whispered under her breath in wonder, hardly audible to you had it not been such a close proximity, before a malicious grin slithered across her doll-like features.

She seemed to have completely dismissed Crowley’s lack of completion to her task, instead her whole focus being on you, her eyes alight as if you were a trophy.

“You’re majesty, if I might--” Crowley started as Reawth’s expression shifted from one of wonder to annoyance, her hand coming up to snap her fingers, and leaving Crowley to plummet to the ground. A small unintentional gasp left your throat before you could stop yourself, and you feared she had killed him.

However, before you could process the situation, you were gone.

‘Do not presume to know what lengths I would take Dean. Her situation is your fault as well.’

‘(Wait and see) ;)’

Part 6

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[trashwrites]

Lupercalia Ch.6

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 

or

Read it on AO3!

–

Werewolf/Vampire AU

NSFW

Warnings for: Hardcore Sex, Blood, Violence, Blood Kink, More Blood, Lots of Blood, Knotting, Consensual Biting, Etc. In Some Chapters

-

The walls around him felt wrong; they seemed to stretch higher and tilt closer every moment, caging Joseph in. This was a prison. What if he left? Could he leave?

-

Sebastian jolted from sleep, swiping helplessly at half-remembered screams that echoed from his nightmare. It was a ritual for Sebastian, except this time he jostled Joseph who groaned and curled his fingers against Sebastian’s chest in a half-sleep. All that terrible imagery melted from Sebastian as he watched his new bedfellow; Joseph looked younger and less feral in his sleep, lit by the glow from behind the curtains. He wished he could always look that relaxed.

He wanted to stay there, lazy away that morning with his pretty friend snuggled up against him until late afternoon. The phone rumbling in the other room, however, had its own opinions about that plan. Sebastian slid out from under Joseph’s arm as quietly as he could, wrapping him the comforter as a cocoon against any stray shaft of sunlight.

Sebastian stumbled his way through the various morning routines that were non-negotiable: shaving, clothes, food. He squinted at his phone over a cup of coffee, punching it into silence even as it buzzed to life again.

Hey Fleabag, the text read, I know this is like, the honeymoon or whatever, but we’ve got work to do.

On my way, he typed back. He would definitely be late, but he wasn’t concerned. He was always late; no one had taken special notice before, and they wouldn’t care now.

He grabbed his trench coat from the bedroom and shrugged it on, faltering as he stared at the sleeping form of Joseph. Sebastian wasn’t clear on what the correct thing to do in this situation was. Would it be rude to just leave, leave Joseph to his own devices? Should he wake him up?

And say what? Sebastian thought to himself, Bye honey, I’ll be home around 6?

That would be inappropriate, probably. Creepy, probably.

He couldn’t just…say nothing though. Grabbing a notebook he kept on the nightstand, Sebastian scrawled a hurried note and left the book open so Joseph could read it. He couldn’t shake the work that Joseph would wake up and just leave without…

Without what? Without saying goodbye? You said he could go if he wanted to. What does it matter to you?

Sebastian dropped the pen, angry at himself suddenly. He hurried out of the apartment, feeling nauseous and hoping he could shake off the strange feeling by focusing on work.

-

A familiar surge of adrenaline burned Joseph into wakefulness. He tumbled out of the bed and scrambled across the carpet like an animal, desperate to know where he was and whether or not the danger he felt was real.

The bedroom came into focus moment by fearful moment, the whole of the apartment, the bright halo of afternoon sunlight from the window. It was enough to remember that he had woken up in Sebastian’s home, where he’d been the night before.

Recognition didn’t do as much as he would have liked to alleviate the panic; it clung to him like a stubborn film. Joseph paced the room madly, circling the kitchen and the living room madly as if he could memorize their angles, their entrances and exits. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking to accomplish, he just needed to do something. In his restless circuit of the apartment, the notebook fluttered from its place on the nightstand and caught Joseph’s attention. His name was written at the top of the page in bold capitals.

Joseph,

Didn’t want to wake you, just wanted to let you know I left for work. Make yourself at home.

        -Sebastian

Joseph swallowed thickly and put the notebook back on the nightstand with a gulp of air, as if he could quell panic like a case of the hiccups.

Slowing himself by sheer force of will, Joseph tried to sit quietly in the living room as if he belonged there. He turned the TV on, only to switch it off immediately when the tinny sitcom laughter blared into the room and startled him. Silence folded around Joseph like a crushing physical force.

He sat at the edge of the couch and held his head in his hands, feeling the twinge of an oncoming headache. Why had Sebastian left him a note at all? It felt almost ominous, like a very carefully veiled threat that Joseph just hadn’t cracked yet.

The walls around him felt wrong; they seemed to stretch higher and tilt closer every moment, caging Joseph in. This was a prison. What if he left? Could he leave?

Joseph felt breathless, drowning in the force of how badly he wanted to leave.

He ran to the door and tested the doorknob, but learning that it could be unlocked didn’t mollify him. The curtained windows gaped at him like shut eyes; everything was spangled in eyes, watching him. He couldn’t leave through the front door. What if someone saw him?

Worse, what if they told Sebastian?

Shivering with barely-contained hysteria, Joseph bolted into the bedroom and threw the window open.

-

The stairs creaked under Sebastian’s heavy climb upward, and he leaned his whole body against the door to push it open.

Covering up a case that he would never technically be able to “solve” was its own special variety of exhausting. Without turning Joseph in, which was out of the question no matter what Juli said, the two of them had to come up with some kind of convincing excuse. A series of convincing excuses, with the appearance of facts to back them.

It added up to piles of paperwork and hours they wasted chasing ghost leads that they’d invented. Now they could only hope that they’d left it in a state for the case to go quietly cold, unnoticed.

Sebastian paused at the kitchen table, dropping his keys and swallowing down the fluttering feeling in his stomach. It was the first time in years that he’d come home to something other than an empty apartment, and the thrill he felt may have been as much fear as it was…excitement? Relief? He didn’t know what to call it.

“Joseph?”

Sebastian walked slowly, trying not to startle him. He glanced into the rooms as he passed, turning into the bedroom.

“There you are-“

Joseph lifted his head to look at him, his eyes fever-bright. Sebastian startled at the menacingly empty expression and the slow movements Joseph took to unfold himself from where he’d crouched on the floor.

“Whoa. You okay?” Sebastian said.

Joseph stood up in that unnerving automatic fashion and Sebastian looked around the room, trying to find some environmental clue that would tell him what was wrong. A shaft of sunlight fell across the floor, flickering in the flapping curtain. Sebastian felt a cold wash of realization alongside the window’s breeze as he turned back to Joseph, finally seeing the ugly burn that spread along Joseph’s right forearm and hand.

“Jesus, what the fuck happened?” Sebastian yelped, snapping the curtain closed before he rushed to guide Joseph out of the room.

That seemed to be the magic action that brought Joseph back to reality, because before Sebastian’s hand could touch Joseph’s shoulder, his vision blurred and he hit the floor. He could already feel a bruise forming on his shoulder, and his vision swam as struggled up; he saw Joseph standing over him, his face contorted with confusion and fear.

“Sebastian?” Joseph spoke as though he were worried he might be hallucinating.

Sebastian tried to roll the pain out of his shoulder and sat up slowly, holding his hands out in surrender.

“Hey, it’s Sebastian, it’s just me. I just got home from work, and I came in to check on you. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Joseph grabbed Sebastian’s hand and hauled him to his feet, wincing at the pain in his burned limb. Sebastian reached out to take Joseph’s arm and then snatched it back, hovering uncertainly. Joseph flinched and curled around the arm protectively, staring at Sebastian as if he’d have to start begging for his life at any moment.

“May I?” Sebastian said.

Joseph nodded.

Sebastian took Joseph’s arm carefully, turning it wherever it looked safe to touch and wincing sympathetically at how raw and painful it looked. “What the fuck happened, man?”

Joseph shook his head.

“Okay. I’m going to take you into the bathroom so I can wrap this up, is that okay?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

“Sorry. You just knocked me into the floor; I was operating under the assumption that you might be a little freaked out.”

Joseph bit his lip and relaxed, letting Sebastian guide him by the shoulder. “Okay, fair point.”

Sebastian sat him down on the tiled floor before sitting close to him, clicking the first-aid kit open. He gestured for Joseph to hold his arm out. “So, do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Joseph said. He hissed as Sebastian poured antiseptic onto the raw flesh and patted it dry. “I’m…sorry. About punching you.”

“It’s alright. Seems like you didn’t have a great day, honestly.” Sebastian cocked his head and smiled up at Joseph. “Hey, do you even need antiseptic? Can dead people get infections?”

He was proud of the smile that teased out of Joseph.

“Y’know, that’s a good question,” Joseph said.

“Seriously thought,” Sebastian said, winding clean linen strips around Joseph’s arm, “what’s the protocol for this? Do these burns heal?”

Joseph shrugged. “Eventually.”

He pulled up his other sleeve to display a jagged swath of whitened scar along his left shoulder. Sebastian winced; how could he have fucked a guy like, three times without noticing something as obvious as that?

Sebastian trailed his thumb along the scar with an almost apologetic expression. Joseph leaned into the touch and smiled the restrained way that suggested he didn’t want anyone to know he was experiencing a moment of levity. Sebastian felt helpless; he just wanted to something to help, but he didn’t know what else he had to offer.

“Oh,” Sebastian said, slipping hi hand to stroke Joseph’s back in a comforting way. “Is this something blood might help with?”

Joseph’s eyes went wide and he shook his head slowly. “Ah, I…don’t know. Maybe? I’ve never had a chance to test that idea.”

“Why don’t you try it? That burn must hurt something fierce.”

“That hardly seems fair, Sebastian. I couldn’t ask you to do that for what, a third day in a row? It’s too much.”

“You know, I hear some humans eat several times a day. I myself have been known to indulge in three meals daily, in fact,” Sebastian said drily.

Joseph rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t work that way and you know it."

“I don’t know it, and you don’t know it either. You’re a terrible vampire.”

Joseph shoved him playfully, his laughter coming easily now. Sebastian grinned and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it aside. It had been a while since he’d had a reason to feel self conscious, but the distracted way Joseph looked him over made him flush with warm embarrassment.

“Go on, pick a spot. Just not the neck this time; I know it’s more fun that way, but I can’t risk it showing up at work.”

Joseph looked away guiltily. Sebastian wondered if he was feeling badly about the simple act of feeding, or just that Sebastian had called him out for having a thing for neck-biting. He thrust his arm into Joseph’s field of vision.

Joseph took it carefully, like he was afraid it would break. “You’re sure?”

Sebastian nodded, and before he completed the gesture he felt the piercing burn at his bicep. He hissed a breath in and closed his eyes, swallowing back the way it goaded heat to could low in his belly. Joseph was focused, hungry, and desperate. It was in no way an amorous condition.

Blood tickled its’ way down Sebastian’s arm and he focused on thoughts about his boss chewing with his mouth open, or the way Juli would look at him if she were to walk through the door. That thought worked well enough, dousing any lust he may have felt.

He didn’t know how long Joseph had latched onto him, he only knew his vision was starting to tilt lazily by the time the vampire pulled away. Joseph wiped blood from his mouth like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Sebastian blinked, leaning back and trying to get his bearings when he felt a hand against his crotch.

He looked up, startled. Joseph crept to him on all floors; his hands slid up Sebastian’s thighs to palm awkwardly at his half-hard cock. However much Sebastian’s lower functioning approved, the action scraped at his mind like nails against a chalkboard. The scene was all wrong- Joseph’s movements were heavy, automated like when he’d found him dazed in the bedroom. Worst of all was the flat look in his eyes, absent of any of the half-lidded lust Sebastian had reveled in before.

Joseph wasn’t looking at him at all; he stared at the punctures on Sebastian’s arm as if he were meditating while mimicking the approximate correct motions of sensuality. It made Sebastian’s guts churn.

He took Joseph’s shoulders and maneuvered the man off of him gently. The wounded expression that flitted across Joseph’s face twisted Sebastian’s chest with guilt.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Sebastian said, hushed and unsteady.

“You seemed into it,” Joseph mumbled, staring at the ground. “I figured I’d…take care of it.”

Sebastian flopped onto his side on the cool tiled floor, feeling the way it seemed to shrink and spin beneath him. “That’s not your responsibility, man. It just…y’know. It happens.”

Joseph watched him, looking more and more tormented until Sebastian pulled him down, shimmied closer and rested his forehead against Joseph’s collarbone.

“Sebastian, we’re lying on the bathroom floor.”

“Yeah?”

“Are we supposed to be on the bathroom floor?”

“We can be wherever we want to be,” Sebastian said hazily.

“Shit. I took too much, didn’t I?”

“Nah,” Sebastian said, “I just want to lay here with you for a bit. That’s all.”

Joseph sighed, petting Sebastian’s hair apologetically. It made the skin on the back of Sebastian’s neck tingle pleasantly, sending a shiver of contentment down his back. He let out a quiet, rumbling grunt and buried his nose against Joseph’s chest.

He felt rather than heard Joseph chuckle.

“I didn’t know dogs could purr,” he said.

“Not purring,” Sebastian grumbled, “I-“

He was interrupted by Joseph’s fingers skimming his temples and drawing slowly down the back of his neck, resuming that pleasurable buzz. He rumbled an appreciative noise again.

Sebastian didn’t hear whatever Joseph said then, he just closed his eyes and breathed in the exhilarating scent of Joseph as he faded into sleep.