#sleep for another 3 hours (with several wake up-nah-sleep-points)

[unicorn-shadownight]

.

[cutiepisenpai]

Part 1 of 3.   Part 2   Part 3

Kenma X F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Implied Sex

Kenma is a well known and extremely successful video game streamer. He has millions of followers who would show up day after day and watch his hours-long streams. His followers of course know very little about his life outside of gaming. The shy streamer shared nothing of his personal life and his fans searched for any miniscule amount of information they could find. They all knew about his best friend Kuroo who would show up in his streams from time to time. They also knew he has a long time girlfriend, they heard you talking to him on a few streams before but you never come into view of the camera. The few times that they had heard her she was checking in on him. His followers have asked many times if he would ever reveal her and he always says no. He likes his private life to stay private, but little did they know that there is another reason other than privacy that he didn’t show his girlfriend in videos is because you are a very popular vlogger and cosplayer. Back when you were in high school he was in a few of your videos that are now private, long before either of you rose to popularity becoming the big names you are known as now. Some older viewers of yours know about your relationship and thankfully have kept that secret for you as well. But there are still people who just want to know anything they can.

Right now you are doing a live Q and A and can’t count how many times, ‘Who are you dating?’ has shown up in the chat. 

“Alright guys the Q and A can’t just be you asking me about my relationship. So for the final time no you don’t get to know his name or see what he looks like.” You say, before continuing on answering questions about upcoming conventions and cosplays you are working on.

“Okay guys it’s about time to bring this to its end…” At that moment Kenma peeks his head in and you look up over the camera. “Hey, I was just signing, off I’ll be there in a minute.” Kenma nods leaving the room.

“Ok I am out until next time.” You say ending the live.

Sitting back into your chair giving a little stretch before getting up and walking out of the room. You find your way to Kenma who is lounging on the couch switch in hand. You sit down next to him leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Sup, puddin’?” 

He shrugs, “Nothing, your stream went well. Except for all the people asking about me.” 

Another thing no one knows is that you moderate each other's chats while streaming. 

“They just want your beautiful face to grace their screens.” You joke. 

“Do you want them to know?” He asks.

“Nah, I prefer to keep you all to myself but I would be glad to stop all the questions.”

“That wouldn’t stop the questions. They will ask hundreds more after finding out.” He says.

“True. If we ever decide to tell them then I can finally convince you to dress up at a con with me.”

“Not a chance.” He shuts you down.

“Oh, come on.”

Your regular day could be hectic; you usually filmed early in the morning while Kenma was still sleeping before editing or working on your cosplay. Today you are filming several videos consecutively because you were going to a gaming expo with Kenma and you can’t film or stream while there together. You also needed to pack later for the both of you for the trip. Kenma could pack for himself but it's easier on both of you if you just do it. While you are busy getting everything you need to do done, Kenma sleeps on peacefully.

You may have thought that Kenma was asleep when you got out of the bed, but he hadn’t slept at all that night. He had big plans that you are unaware of. He talked with Kuroo and Hinata but neither helped calm his nerves. He lays awake in the bed exhausted, he can hear you filming in the next room. The sounds of your cheerful laughter makes him smile. He has been so exhausted trying to keep his plans a secret from you and soon it will all come to a close. He takes a deep breath before sitting up and dragging himself out of the bed. He pulls his suitcase out of the closet and starts packing. 

Once you are done filming you walk back to the bedroom to find Kenma has already packed his bad and started on yours. He is currently looking into your underwear drawer confused. 

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Packing.” He says bluntly and you roll your eyes.

“I see that, I meant why?”

“We’re going on a trip.” This guy can’t be serious.

“I am also aware of that...”

“Why do you own so many different types of underwear.” He asks cutting you off.

“What?” 

“They’re organized in pairs, but why are there just so many?”

“Pairs?” 

“Tops and bottoms.” He hasn’t turned to face you looking at the drawers offendedly. 

“I was going to pack.”

“I couldn’t sleep so I just did it.”

“Did I wake you?” You ask. He shakes his head in response. “Okay, well thank you for packing, but I can take it from here.” 

Kenma makes no effort to move, giving the drawer one last glance before picking up a sheer mesh bra and panty set. “You should bring these.” He says, before kissing your forehead and walking away. 

A few hours later and your bag is packed you set it and Kenma’s next to the front door stopping  by his stream room to check in on him. You peek inside waiting to catch his attention. 

“I’m not streaming right now.” He says.

You walk over sitting in his lap and draping your hands over his shoulders. 

“What are you doing?”   

“Just editing some clips for while we are gone.”

“Ah, I need to go edit my videos too.” 

“You should probably go and get that done.” He says. 

“Trying to get rid of me.” You feign being hurt.

“No but I don’t want you to be stressed about it tomorrow while we are traveling.” 

You share a quick kiss before you are on your way out. Once he is sure you’ve gone to work on your own stuff he pulls the video program back up that he had been working in. It was a video he had already edited several times trying to assure it was perfect. 

The next morning bright and early, much to Kenma’s dismay, you were off heading to the convention. The first night would be a preview night, but that didn’t mean you could walk around as a couple. You actually avoided each other a bit so that no one would become suspicious. He hung with other game streamers while you met up with some vloggers you know, occasionally coming together your close friends always asked if it was difficult to do these events together when you had to pretend to not be a couple. And of course it could be difficult but you were both used to it at this point. During these events Kenma wished that everyone knew about your relationship already so that he could have you next time while he dealt with the hordes of people he encountered. By the end of the first night you are both completely exhausted and after your showers you fall asleep quickly. Kenma wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He looks over to you sleeping peacefully and decides to go into the other room. He opens his laptop playing an RPG game, but he can’t focus and dies repeatedly. He grows frustrated until you plop down on the couch beside him startling him.

“You should be asleep.” He says.

“You’re one to talk. Why are you in here?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing.”

“I know you better than that. Something has been bothering you. I thought you were stressed about the trip but now I know I’m not sure.”

Kenma is quiet, he is normally quiet but this is a telling silence. 

“I’m just worried about tomorrow.” He sighs.

“What’s tomorrow? The tournament?”

“Yeah.” He lies. 

“You shouldn’t worry about something as silly as that you’ll be great.” You say to reassure him. 

Seeing you smile believing so wholeheartedly in him, helped relieve the immense amount of stress he had been feeling. 

“Ready to go back to bed.” You ask.

“Yeah.” 

Kenma finally got to sleep peacefully for the first time in weeks. The next morning trying to wake Kenma up requires effort and patience.

“Come on Puddin’. You have to get up.” 

“Don’t want to.” He mumbles. 

“We’ve got to get downstairs.” You say and receive no response. 

“I’ll give you kisses.”

“You’ll do that anyways.” You hear muffled from under the covers. 

“You are right, Okay what do I have to do to get you out of bed.”

“Nothing I’m not getting up.”

“I’m not going to keep playing nice with you.” No response. “Okay.”

You pull the covers off of him climbing over him and straddling his hips. He cracks an eye open looking up at you and moves his hands to your hips. 

“What is your plan?” 

“Get up.” You say adamantly. 

“You don’t scare me.” 

“I have an incriminating photo of you.”

“You would never post that.”

“You’re right I wouldn’t, I have a better plan. I will send it in the group text to the team.”

He opens both of his eyes wide, “You wouldn’t”

You pull your phone out, “Try me.”

“You’re mean but fine.” He pouts sitting up and coming face to face with you. 

You smile at him, “See that wasn’t so hard.”

He kisses your forehead and taps your legs for you to get up. Down at the expo today Kenma is busy meeting his fans, you watch from a distance and even from where you are standing you can see how uncomfortable he is. You want nothing more to go over and comfort him but you know you can’t. You send him a text instead, 

To Puddin’:

You’ve got this just take a deep breath. 👍

He opens the message and smiles, the crowd notices and breaks out in questions and you are glad you weren’t over there. Later on that same day you meet up before the tournament starts.

“This is so exhausting. How do you do this so often?” He asks 

“Mmm, I’m much more of a people person that you. But I think I just got used to it.” You look at the clock nearby, “Alright it looks like it’s time to head over for the tournament.” 

He hums in agreement getting up and heading out of the door before you. You wait a few minutes after he leaves before leaving yourself and going to take your seat watching the tournament begin. Kuroo shows up taking the seat next to you, “Hey, what’s up?” Kuroo says.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him.

“Wow you hurt me and I thought we were friends.” Kuroo says clutching his hands close to his chest.

“I’m happy to see you. I'm just surprised. Shouldn’t you be at work.”

“I got out of it.” He says proudly. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh yea do they know you’re at a gaming expo?”

“You don’t tell my secret and I won’t tell yours.”

“I don’t have any secrets.”

“So your millions of followers know about Kenma now.”

“Shut up.”

The announcer comes out and introduces the gamers playing in the tournament. You and Kuroo cheer loudly and embarrass Kenma just a bit. The tournament has been going well, everyone making quiet conversation, Kenma has gotten into a groove playing intensely. Suddenly the power goes out. You feel Kurro’s hand grip your wrist, people murmur around you. ‘Sorry for the interruption everyone. We will fix the power and be back momentarily.’ The announcer says. 

“Are you afraid of the dark?” You ask Kuroo.

“No, are you?”

“No but I am also not holding onto you.”

“I’m keeping you safe.”

“From what exactly.”

“Creeps.” 

You laugh knowing he is completely serious. The screen on the stage flickers before lighting up and everyone's attention is directed towards it. A video begins to play, “Hey, it’s Kenma.” You say to no one in particular. He looks nervous almost fidgeting before he takes a breath and starts talking, “Hi everyone I am Kozuken if you didn’t know I am a pro - gamer.” You stand and watch trying to figure out what this video is, “I am not good at this, but I made this video for something important. My followers have always asked about my girlfriend and for privacy reasons I never show her in my videos. But she is the.. I don’t…  there aren’t words to describe her.. But this video is for her.” There are a series of awws heard all around. The video shows a montage consisting of photos and video clips in chronological order, starting from when they first met in middle school to high school with the volleyball team, graduation from high school. When they lived together in college and the moments of their life until now. You are so engrossed in the video you don’t see everything moving around you. As the montage ends Kenma is back on the screen. “She is my heart and soul and I can’t imagine my life without her and so if she would just turn around I have something to ask her.” The video ends and when you turn around Kenma is behind you down on one knee ring in hand. 

“Will you marry me?”  

You stand there in shock because you hadn’t suspected it at all but you can see him starting to panic from your silence. 

“Yes, of course I will.”

You had forgotten you were at a public event surrounded by thousands of people until the crowd cheers startling the both of you. He stands sliding the ring on your finger giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. There are cameras flashing and people cheering all around. You are ushered out by the event coordinators helping you back to your room. Once inside with the doors closed you are finally able to take a deep breath and take in what happened. You feel a rush of excitement and jump wrapping your arms around him. 

You let out a high pitched squeal, “Oh my god. I can’t believe that just happened. I had no idea…” You begin to ramble. 

Kenma just looks at you in awe smiling. He listens to your rambling just happy he was finally able to get that done and even happier that you said yes. You two stop when you hear a knock followed by the door promptly opening.

“Hey lovebirds, please tell me you’re decent. Wouldn’t want to see that again.” Kuroo says walking into the room.

“If you would stop walking in without anyone prompting you that wouldn’t have happened the first time.” Kenma says as your face heats up at the thought of that incident. 

“Ah, just yell out before I can see anything.” He smirks, “You know to let me know. But I guess that could be confused with the other kind of yelling out.”

“Okay, what do you want?” You ask before he can say anything else. 

“To celebrate with you of course. I’ve seen this from the very beginning now let’s break out the champagne and celebrate since you know pudding head finally decided to announce his love for you to the world.”

“To the world?” You ask. 

“Oh yeah that whole thing was live streamed on both of your channels.” Kuroo says.

You look to Kenma who is avoiding eye contact, “Is that true?” 

“Yea, sorry I didn’t ask it would’ve ruined the surprise.”

“It’s okay I’m just surprised and a little scared to check my phone now.” 

“Do that later after you’re completely blitzed.” Kuroo cheers popping the cork on the champagne. 

You spend the rest of the afternoon cuddled next to Kenma drinking way more than you should and talking with Kuroo. Late into the evening Kuroo says his goodbyes before heading for his own hotel room. You and Kenma are lying in bed and you can see your phone flicker every few seconds with a new notification. The ringer had been turned off long ago. You turn over in bed to face Kenma gently moving the strands of hair from blocking his eyes. He grabs a hold of your hand bringing it to his lips and kissing it. 

“Tomorrow is going to be a very long day.” You say.

“It is .” Kenma nods in agreement.

“At least I can stick close to you. Since everyone knows now.”

“Yea that will be good.”

You have a big smile plastered on your face. “What?” Kenma asks.

“I’m just happy.”

“Go to sleep.”

The next day things are eventful normally the final day of any event would be calm and this was anything but that. Fans are still buzzing over the news of you two and the engagement surprise offering the congratulations. The day is overwhelming for both of you and by the time it is over you are ready to be back in your own peaceful and quiet home. When you finally decide to check social media you are bombarded by thousands of photos, videos, clips and mentions. Most are positive but there are a few critical tweets here and there. It is just too much and you decide it can be avoided for a little while longer. It can’t be avoided forever. Both of your careers require you to react eventually and it will come sooner rather than later since you have filming and lives planned. At the house you want to collapse on your bed, you slowly change waiting for Kenma to come in but he doesn’t. When you find him he is in his streaming room staring at the three monitors. 

“Couldn’t wait to play.”

“”Hmm, I’m not playing.” He says turning slowly to face you but looking back at the screen. As you approach him and the screen comes into view you see that he is in fact scrolling through twitter, something that he never does. He opens his arms up a gesture you have come to know as him asking you to sit in his lap. You do just that sitting between his legs leaning your back against his chest. 

“So why are you scrolling through twitter?” You ask.

“It’s faster on my pc than my phone.” 

“Understandable, the question is still the same.”

“I had a lot of notifications.” 

“Well when you decide to abruptly make your private relationship with another well known creator public that happens.” You say.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes.”

“Well so long as I am with you I am always happy.” He says hooking his chin over your shoulder.

“You should probably stop scrolling. It’s not good.” You say and he hums in agreement. “We can take a bath together and cuddle while playing an easy game.” 

The next week was hectic, you two tried to continue as usual. But during Kenma’s first stream back his chat was spammed with question upon question about you and your relationship. Why weren’t you on his stream, after three hours he ended his stream early out of frustration. You had a little better control in your own live for the most part, you started your live by saying you would not be discussing your personal life regardless of them knowing about the two of you now. You thanked everyone who sent their congratulations but still you had to remind them that you and Kenma still valued your privacy and not to go over to his channel and bother him. 

“We’re going to have to do a Q and A aren’t we.” Kenma says over dinner. 

“We don’t have to do anything, everything that we do is our own choice and our own decision.” 

“Do you think they will ever stop asking?”

“It may die down after a few weeks but there will always be questions.” 

You two end up announcing a joint live Q and A after too many of Kenma’s streams kept getting spammed with questions. 

“Hello everyone and welcome to our first and probably only ever joint Q and A.” You announce. 

You can feel the nervousness seeping out of Kenma, he was barely comfortable answering questions during his streams and then he had a buffer. Most of his focus on the game. It was strange to be here with Kenma if anyone had ever said when you started dating that one day he would propose to you with nearly a million people watching you would have thought it was a lie. Hell if someone had mentioned that something like this would happen even a month ago you wouldn’t believe it.

“I hope you all don’t mind listening to me talk because getting a lot out of this one is practically impossible.” You say gesturing to Kenma. “So we have a list of pre submitted questions we will be going through and after we will answer questions from the chat.” 

You hold up a notecard with a question for Kenma to read, “ ‘Where did you meet?’, Seriously that’s boring.”

“Okay so we actually met way back as first years in middle school. I was an exchange student and Kenma was my first friend in Japan.” Kenma nods along not feeling the need to add more.

“ ‘What was your first impression of me?’ Oh that’s a good one.” You read.

“You were quiet and shy. I don’t know where that went.”

“I got more comfortable around you. Is this your way of telling me to be more quiet?”

“No.”

“ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ” He reads, “Since high school.” 

“We have been dating for seven years since our first year of high school.” You say. 

There are comments in the chat talking about you being high school sweethearts and of course none of them would have ever had a chance with either of you since you have been together so long. You two have finally gotten into a groove answering questions, laughing and telling stories. Kenma loosens up after a while almost forgetting you are being watched live. You had gone through cards you had prepared and are now taking questions from the chat. 

“ ‘When are you going to get married?’ ” Kenma reads.

“Well since we’ve been engaged for less than two weeks no idea. Seriously take a guess and maybe you’ll be right. We probably won’t mention it publicly anyway. We love you guys but don’t want any wedding crashers.”

“ ‘What do you argue about the most?’ ” You read.

“Sleep probably?” Kenma says looking at you. 

“Yeah neither of us have the best sleep schedules and we argue telling the other that they need to sleep.” 

“ ‘Who wears the pants in the relationship?’ ”

“We like it best when neither of us are wearing pants.”

“ ‘Who said I love you first?’ ” 

“Well we were friends for a long time before we started dating So I love you was just a pretty normal thing to say like hello or goodbye by the time our relationship became romantic.” You say. 

“She did.” Kenma answers.

“Care to elaborate.”

“No”

“C’mon, you obviously remember and I don’t so it’s only fair that you share.” 

With a huff, “The first time you said it was when you were leaving to visit your home over the summer break. You hugged me and said I love you and that I would be the first person you saw when you got back.”

You are left speechless that he remembers that so vividly. The chat of course is filled with hearts and everyone talking about how cute it is that he remembered. 

“Okay everyone this is where we are ending this tonight because nothing else could top that. We hope that you are having a good morning, afternoon, or evening wherever you are in the world. Until next time.” You say ending the live. “Oh my god were you trying to make me cry on live.” 

“No.”

“Well I almost did. You do realize you are so cute and anyone who was not simping for you before that definitely is now.” 

“Why all I did was say what happened.” 

You give him a kiss, “Yea and that is exactly why.”

“That makes no sense.”

[btsmakesmehappy]

Palate Cleanser | 3

Genre: Agent au, friends with benefit (sort of), Stranger to lover, Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Pairing: Agent!Taehyung x Baker!reader

Word Count: 8,5k

Rating: 18+ (M)

Warning: Short makeout, Jealous-possessive Taehyung. Reader being called a slut.

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 completed

Summary: Taehyung needs something to take his mind off his broken heart. His best friend, Jimin, suggests that he should meet another woman and the first woman he met was you. Would you help him even though you have your own problem, that you hate men?

Series Masterlist: The Company

a/n: firstly, I apologize for my late update. As I explained before, I had some writter block plus I moved to a new workplace which require me to adjust more. I usually write around midnight (GMT+7) but I can’t anymore because I have my night shifts in the ER. which is kinda tiring. I don’t want to bring my laptop to ER because, ew, germs. so anyway, enjoy and please please reblog and give me a feedback!

thank you so much to @dreamystuffers for beta-reading editing my lack of grammar-fic. I will be forever thankful <3

You were only ten at the time. It was your mother’s birthday, and your father decided to bring the entire family to eat at a fancy restaurant with a multi-course meal. You were happy at first, having to eat delicious food in a beautiful dress. But when you sat at the table, you were shocked to find that the food was so little in quantity and the way they served the food one by one it was just frustrating for a girl like you. You had starved yourself for this particular dinner, and you were not enjoying it at all.

You were mad because you were hungry and the next course they served you after the appetizer was a cup of lime sorbet instead of some juicy steak. You were on the verge of crying. You thought that the sorbet, which was like ice cream to you, was a dessert. Therefore you thought that dinner had ended, and you were still hungry.

At the age of ten, you thought of yourself as a little bit more mature. You didn’t want to complain to your parents about how hungry you were, you didn’t want to destroy the happy moment. So you decided to just push your emotions and your hunger aside, as you ate the small cup of the lime sorbet in silence, hoping that it would fill your growling stomach.

You would be lying to yourself if you said that after another cup of sorbet you weren’t still hungry. You then snuck some pieces of bread from your mother’s plate while she was busy drinking her wine. The bread itself was delicious, to the point that you devoured almost 10 pieces of bread at once. You were happy, knowing that you were full. And when the waiter then served the next course, you were no longer hungry.

Your mother was obviously mad at you because you didn’t even touch your expensive steak. After all, you were already full of food that was only supposed to be a palate cleanser, but instead, you ate it like it was the main course. But still, you had no regrets.

Maybe you were bound to love that sorbet more than the steak. Maybe you were bound to love the bread more than the wine.

You are awakened by the sound of your phone just like every other morning. As your hands wander on the bed, looking for your damn phone, you feel something warm moving beside you. You open your eyes slowly, only to find Taehyung’s bare chest in front of your face.

You sit up right away, looking at your own body and then at his. Your eyes widen at your naked body. You then swiftly drag your blanket and wrap yourself with it, making Taehyung stir in his sleep at the sudden coldness.

You rise and walk to the couch, rummaging through your purse to turn off the alarm on your phone. You look at the room around you, clothes scattered on the floor. You feel a heat rushing to your face, as memories of last night filling your head.

What should I do the morning after a one-night-stand?

You can’t run away, it is your apartment after all.

You sigh and walk to your bathroom. You let a cold shower run over your body. You hope that Taehyung will leave while you are in the shower, but at the same time, you hope that he won’t.

Why did you do it in the first place? You barely know him, but you wanted him. You wanted to help him. Was it a good idea?

You wash your body quickly and turn your shower off. You then dry yourself off and cover your body with a towel. As you step out of the bathroom, Taehyung is still sleeping soundly, he somehow pulled your bedsheet off to cover his body.

You change into a shirt and new jeans, throwing your jeans from last night into the washer. You look at the mirror and grab your concealer to cover the hickeys on your neck, thanking God, that it hasn’t gone empty.

You look at the clock on the wall. You must go to the bakery in less than an hour. You then walk to the bed and nudge Taehyung softly. “Taehyung, wake up.”

He groans, feeling uncomfortable to be woken up. He stretches his body and sits up. His eyes are still shut as he tries to stay awake. You hide your smile. He looks different from yesterday. He looks intimidating in suits, and now? He just looks adorable with messy hair and a pout on his face.

You run your fingers through his hair. “Take a shower, I will make you some breakfast.” He doesn’t answer you but he stands up and walks to the bathroom with his hand rubbing his eyes lazily. “The towel is in the cabinet over the sink.” You pick his shirt and pants from the floor, smoothing them out, and lay them on your bed.

You open your fridge. You only have a bunch of eggs inside. Well, you never have breakfast. You pick two eggs and a milk carton. You crack open the eggs and put it in the bowl. You whisk it quickly until it becomes a light yellowish color. You pour some milk and put some salt and pepper inside, and whisk it again. You prepare your frying pan on the stove with some butter. As the pan gets hotter, you pour the egg and then scramble it carefully. You cook it only for a minute and then put it on the plate. You use the already buttered pan to toast a slice of bread from the loaf that you always have in your apartment.

You hear the bathroom door open and there is Taehyung with a towel wrapped on his waist, looking unnecessarily attractive. You gulp and divert your attention to your bread. Taehyung walks over to the bed and then wears his clothes.

“What are you making?” He asks while walking to the kitchen. He dries his hair with the towel lazily.

You gesture for him to sit at the table. “Just toast and scrambled eggs. I’m sorry, I don’t have anything else.” You then put the plate on the table and sit in front of him.

“I don’t mind. Thank you.” He then grabs the fork and starts eating the eggs. “It’s good.”

You chuckle sheepishly. “It’s just an egg.”

He nods. His eyes then wander to your kitchen and stop at the coffee machine in the corner. “Is that the coffee machine?” He smiles mischievously.

You pout. “Yeah.” You answer weakly. “Do you want some?”

“Nah. I’m not drinking coffee, It’s bitter.” He says as he rips the bread and puts it in his mouth.

You prop your hand under your chin, watching him eat. “I don’t drink it either.” His head tilts in confusion. “I don’t drink it anymore. I have severe gastritis. Coffee is forbidden for me.” You explain.

“It is a pity. You spent so much money on it.” He is trying hard to hold his laughter as he nods his head. The irony is funny for him. “Are you not eating?” He asks you softly. He has been watching you watch him eat, but you haven’t even eaten anything.

You shake your head. “I never have breakfast. It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Taehyung’s jaw drops. “Nope. You eat this.” He then rips the bread and puts some of the egg on it and reaches out his hand to feed you. Just as you are trying to refuse, he glares at you, forcing you to accept the food. “That’s why you have gastritis. You should eat more regularly.”

You can feel your heart leap. This is too domestic for you. It is strange, but at the same time, you yearn for it. Taehyung rises from his seat with his plates and walks to the sink. You try to stop him, but he insists on washing the dishes. “You cook, I wash.”

Too domestic.

You decide to distract yourself by making your bed, but when you find some wet spot on it, you feel your face is getting hotter. You then remove the sheets completely and throw it into the laundry bag.

Taehyung then sneaks into your back and makes you jolt in surprise. “Let me walk you to the bakery.”

You can feel your nervousness as your hands become clammy. When he walks behind you while you pick up your jacket and your purse, when his hot breath touches your skin while you lock the door, or when his hands touch yours slightly while you walk beside him. It drives you crazy. You have never felt this way.

You both walk in silence. Neither of you want and try to talk about last night. You are grateful for it though. It’s not even that you don’t want to talk about last night, you just can’t think about it without feeling embarrassed.

Your feet stop in front of the bakery. Just as you’re about to thank him and walk inside, he calls you. “Y/N.” You turn your head towards him. Taehyung then leans into you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Thank you.” He smiles and walks away.

And there you are. Standing speechless in front of your own bakery. In the morning. With a pounding heart inside your chest. You put your hand over your mouth. You still can feel his soft lips on yours and you feel your face heating up.

Maybe it was a bad idea.

“Hey, Taehyung-ah! Finally, you’ve arrived. I almost fell asleep.” Hoseok says as Taehyung gets into the SUV. It’s Taehyung’s turn today to keep an eye on Chanyeol. Hoseok squints his eyes and looks at Taehyung from head to toe. “You had sex, didn’t you?”

“ehm. No.” Taehyung leers to the sidewalk, not meeting his gaze.

“You wore the same clothes as yesterday.” Hoseok points it out. He then leans in and takes a sniff. “And you smell different.”

“What are you? A dog?” Taehyung is flabbergasted. He then sniffs himself. He can’t smell anything weird. He does smell different though, like lavender, just like your soap. He sighs, admitting defeat. “For the record, I did all of my tasks before I got, ehm, some.”

Hoseok’s eyes lit up. “I don’t care about your tasks, dumbass. So who is she?” It’s not that the job wasn’t his priority. Taehyung is like a little brother to Hoseok. And for several weeks, hell, for several years, he has seen him hurt and sad. So if he can do anything to make him happy, Hoseok will do it in a heartbeat.

Taehyung still looks away towards the window. “I’d rather not say.”

“It was Y/N, wasn’t it?” Hoseok points his finger towards Taehyung. Seeing Taehyung move uncomfortably, Hoseok knows he hits the jackpot. “I knew it! I felt something between you two. So you’re dating now?” He chuckles.

Taehyung frowns his brows. “I am not dating her. It was just a palate cleanser, you know? Just a one-night-stand to get it out of all my system. Jimin recommended it.”

Hoseok snorts. “That’s not a palate cleanser.” Hoseok just feels it. It’s different from any other one-night-stand Taehyung’s had. And if Hoseok thinks about it that way, it must be right. If Taehyung excels in firearms, Yoongi excels in hacking, and Jungkook excels in fighting, Hoseok is good at analyzing people. He majors in psychology after all. His works usually involve people like Namjoon. If the company needs someone to assist with an interrogation, they call Hoseok. Honestly, he could stop doing what he is doing any minute now, and open a consulting therapy. But he won’t, he loves this job. And besides, the pay and the benefits are good.

“What do you mean, Hyung? Of course, it is.” He turns to see his face. “It’s just for sex.”

“Alright, fine! It is a palate cleanser by that definition.” Hoseok shrugs. “So, did you stay the night?” He asks casually.

“Uh-uh.”

“Shower? Breakfast?”

“Yep.”

Hoseok hides his smile. “Did you or did you not kiss her again before you left her?”

Taehyung’s face shows a hint of a blush on his cheeks, remembering how your lips tremble against his. “Yeah?”

“Do you have a plan to meet her again after you’ve done your shift?”

“Maybe?” Taehyung raises one of his eyebrows. Hoseok then laughs. “What is your point, exactly?” He asks impatiently.

“I don’t know, man.” Hoseok opens his door and gets out of the car. “Seems to me like you picked a whole main course instead of just a palate cleanser.” He smiles in a fatherly fashion and closes the door, leaving Taehyung in a state of confusion.

It’s been a few days since you saw Taehyung. Since your last stolen kiss in front of your bakery. Luckily for you, Hani didn’t see it, so at least, you could have a mental breakdown in the locker room without being questioned by her.

And you have been thinking about Taehyung ever since.

And the more you think about him, the more confused you are.

Hence, you finally seek help. Hani to the rescue.

“So, you just kissed him in the middle of the street and slept with him?” She yells and you hush her almost immediately. Sure, it’s one of the calmer times in your bakery, so there are no customers right now. But still, why did she talk that loud in the first place? Hani then leans in to hug you tightly. “I am so glad, Y/N! I taught you well.”

You release yourself from the hug and give her a light hit on the shoulder. “Hey, you’re supposed to scold me like my mother would.”

“For the millionth times, I am not your mother.” She puts her hands on her hips. “I am just happy that you got some, you know, furthermore, with that handsome man. So spill it! Was he good? How many did you come?”

“Hani!” You feel the heat rushing to your face, remembering the night you slept together with Taehyung.

Hani whines. “Stop being such a prude! Just tell me!”

“It- it was good.” You put your hand awkwardly on your neck. “That’s not what I want to talk to you about!”

She tilts her head to the side and then drags you to the seating area. “Fine, let me hear it.”

You clear your throat, “So, I was just thinking.” You rub your hands together. “It just feels weird, you know.”

“What is weird?”

“I am supposed to think about it as sex, a one-night-stand, and nothing more. But when we, ehm, did it, I got so comfortable and I have been thinking about him ever since.” You sigh. “Am I normal?”

Hani blinks her eyes a few times. She knows that you are a smart person and a hard worker with a passionate soul. But she didn’t think that you were this dense. Maybe your ex ruined you more than you think. “You want more, don’t you?” She asks and you nod repeatedly. “Of course you are normal.”

“Right?” You smile. “It’s totally normal to want more after you had sex once. That’s why people think that sex is addicting.” You nod proudly.

“That’s not what I mean-“

The doorbell rings, and you jerk your head to the door. “Welcome to palate cleanser!” You yell to the customer. You then turn your head to Hani. “Thanks, girl, it was messing my head for some time. I am glad I talked to you.”

You walk to the cashier as Hani eyes you. She shakes her head in disbelief, unable to believe how obnoxious you are. But she can’t do anything if you won’t realize it yourself. You need to be the one who realizes your own feelings.

The tall man walks straight towards the cash register. He has a large bag with him, maybe for a laptop or camera. His eyes are big like a deer’s, and you can see his big ears poking out from beneath his beanie. “Hello.”

You beam him a smile. “Hi! Do you need assistance? We have varieties of bread and cakes here. One of our bakery’s best-sellers this month are these cookies. Would you like to try some?”

He looks perplexed. “Ah, sure.” You open the cookie jar and with your tongs, you pick out a piece and give it to him. He then tries it. ”It is good.”

“Thank you! It is sweet and salty at the same time! So you won’t get tired of eating it. How many do you want?” You ask.

“Eh.. I am not really here to buy anything. I am here for this.” He then opens his bag and pulls out a magazine.

You receive and read it. Hani runs her way to your side, curious about the magazine. “What’s this?”

“This is a food magazine I wrote, well we wrote. We usually make a poll for some topics, and this month is for a bakery. And guess what who is in the first place?” He asks as he opens the page.

Hani’s eyes widen, she almost shrieks. “Oh my god! We are in the first place!”

You hug her. “I can’t believe it!” You then look at the man. “Wait, is this even a trusted source?”

He laughs awkwardly. “You can say so.”

“Who cares if it is a fake one! Don’t be so negative, y/n!” She hits your back playfully and walks away with the magazine. You are positive that she will post it on her Instastory.

“Y/N?”

You turn your head to him. “Yes?”

He scratches his head. “Did you go to Big Hit Culinary school?”

You raise one of your eyebrows. “Yes, I did. Do I know you?”

“I am Park Chanyeol. You may not know me, but I was in the same class as you. Do you remember? You were the one who helped me with my butter incident.” He smiles widely.

You try to remember him. “Ah! You were the one who always laughed loudly during class!”

He pouts slightly. “I was hoping you would remember me for better things. Anyway, it was nice to see you again.” He reaches his hand out to you and you shake his hand.

You chuckle. “Bad luck, man. So how are you? I didn’t think you would become a journalist.”

He laughs. “I am good. I didn’t think so either, but eating nice things was my childhood dream. If you can’t cook it, just eat it.” He then looks at Hani from the window. “So, I assume she is Hani then?”

You then knock on the window and gesture for Hani to come outside. “Yep, the one and only. I am just speechless, you remember us!”

“Why wouldn’t I remember the prettiest girl in the class?” He winks at you.

“What? Are you flirting with me?” You ask coyly.

He leans to the counter suggestively. “Why? Am I not allowed to?”

“What?” Hani interrupts. “I am just calling my mother.”

You point at Chanyeol. “He was my classmate in culinary school. Do you remember him?”

Hani puts her hand under her chin. “Aren’t you the one who followed the Lee kid around? I think I saw you sometimes in the cafeteria.”

Chanyeol lips tighten. “Yes, that’s me. Damn, I left no good impression on either of you girls.” He laughs awkwardly. “So what do you say we have dinner tonight for old time sakes?”

Hani clasps her hands together in excitement. “I think it is a good idea!”

“Sure! Barbeque sounds good!” You yell happily. It has been a long time since you have eaten with friends. Maybe you need this to take your mind off Taehyung.

Suddenly, Hani slaps her forehead. “Ah, but I can’t tonight. It is my anniversary. Jackson will cry if I miss this.”

You then remember how Jackson told you that he is going to propose to her tonight. You can’t believe you almost forget about it. “Oh, maybe another time then?”

“No! You should go without me! I am not that close to you anyway!” She says easily. “Who are you? Park Changmin?”

He laughs. “Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol.”

“Right! And for that matter, why don’t you go now? It’s almost dinner too.” Hani offers. “I will close the store.”

You then drag her to the side. “Yah, why are you letting me go alone with this man. I must say that I am not comfortable with this.” You whisper.

“Geez, relax, Y/n!” She waves you off. “And it is good for you too, you know? You can also check if you get the same feeling like you got when you were with the handsome man before.”

Your eyes widen. “What’s the matter with you? You want me to sleep with this random man? I just met him.”

Hani shrugs, “Well, you did it with that handsome man anyway.”

You pout and sigh in defeat. “Fine, I will have dinner with him.”

“Great!” She then looks to Chanyeol. “Alright, Chanyeol-ssi. Please wait there as Y/N will go change.”

You walk slowly towards the locker room. You have never won an argument with her.

The conversation itself is not that bad. You both talk about your school in the past. Chanyeol passionately explains to you how he got into the butter incident. It was summertime and he worked in the station near the window. He had just prepared his ingredients for his introduction to cookies class, and he forgot that he put the bowl of butter near the window because he was busy measuring the other ingredients. The butter melted, like all of it, and what he did next was amusing. He waited for it to become solid again. As a result, he lost some of his time.

You laugh loudly as you flip the meat on the grill. You remember it. How he waited patiently in the counter with his chin propped on it, staring at a bowl. You then gave him your leftover butter because he almost ran out of time. “The funny thing is, you should’ve just put it in the freezer to save time!”

“I know right! I was so panicked at the time!” He picks up a slice of meat from the grill and eats it.

“And sometimes, melted butter works well in some cookies. So if you’d used it at that time, maybe you could’ve gotten an A.”

“See? I didn’t know any of that! That’s why I stuck to journalism.”

You giggle. “Yeah, maybe it’s for the best.” You eat the cooked meat. It’s been a while since you have had this kind of meeting, and now with a man. And surprisingly for you, you don’t feel weird or uncomfortable. Huh. Maybe the palate cleanser thing works.

“You know...” He swallows his food. “I always thought that you were gay.”

You choke in your own saliva. “Why did you think so?”

He shrugs. “Well, you just awfully close with Hani. And I heard that you never wanted to get close with a man.”

You laugh dryly. “Well, I am not gay.”

“Then, is it okay to flirt with you then?” He says as he leans torwards your face. A mischievous smile plastered on his face.

Your eyes widen. You have never been with such an aggressive man before, and you feel your face getting hotter. “ehm... Sure. I guess?”

Chanyeol then smiles widely. “It’s good then.”

The conversation flows smoothly, you can’t even feel the vibration on your phone. By the time dinner ends, Chanyeol insists on walking you home. Still, you don’t feel the same feeling you felt with Taehyung. So you just thank him and wave him goodbye.

Just as you close the door and throw your shoes. You suddenly realize a shadow shifting on your couch. Sure the apartment has a good price, but it somehow lacks security. Like last week, there was even a break-in on the upper floor. That made your parents worried. They even offered to give you some money, just so you could move to a more secure building, which you rejected politely.

Moving swiftly, you take your umbrella from the front door and walk towards the couch trying to be as subtle as you can. You put your purse on the floor quietly and reach for the lamp switch. Quickly after you turn it on, you hit the source of the shadow with the umbrella as hard as you can.

“Ouch!” You jerk your eyes open, only to find a familiar man in front of you, rubbing his head in pain.

“What the fuck, Taehyung? Did you want to scare me or something?” You yell. Your knees go weak and you flop to the floor, your heart still racing. “How in the hell did you get in?”

He smiles sheepishly as he helps you to stand. “You keep a key under your doormat. You need to be careful, you know. You are a single woman living alone in this low-security-apartment.”

You are speechless as you sit on the couch, cursing yourself for forgetting that you kept your spare key there. Taehyung then walks to the kitchen casually. He opens your kitchen cabinet to get two mugs and fills them with water. He walks back to you and forces you to drink.

“I am sorry for sneaking into your apartment.” He says softly. He sits beside you on the couch, looking forward.

You drink it slowly, and begin to calm down. “What do you want? Do I need to call the police or something?”

“You didn’t answer your phone, so I was worried.” He puts the mugs on the table and turns to you. You look into his brown eyes, which draw you in. His eyes are unreadable.

You feel your hands getting clammy. Your heart beats faster. You can smell his cologne mixed with his sweat, and it is intoxicating. He makes it hard for you to breathe. “I am sorry, I must’ve put it in my purse.”

“Who did you go out with?” He snapped. The tone is not sweet at all, it is full of dominance. It is like you’ve been caught red-handed stealing something at a store. And when you don’t answer him, he leans into you, and corners you on the couch. His hands caging you in to stop you from running from him.

With this proximity, you can feel the turmoil inside your stomach. You feel afraid but at the same time, you are excited. You gulp. “Why?”

He hisses. “Just answer me, muffin.” At the sound of the pet name coming from his mouth in his deep voice, you close your thighs, rubbing them together. Taehyung realizes it too. He inches his lips to your ear, so close, you can feel his hot breath. “Who is he?”

“Why should I tell you?” Your breaths shorten. You can feel your underwear getting damp.

Taehyung nibbles your earlobe, making you shiver. “Because maybe he is a dangerous man.”

You gulp, trying to gain the focus. “You are the one who broke into my apartment. Aren’t you more dangerous?”

He hums, “Smart. Then you should know who is in charge now?” he licks your ear and goes down to your neck. “Hmm, do you think you can go out with another man just because my marks have gone?” He then sucks and bites your jaw, which makes you moan.

“Tae-“

Your words are cut off by his lips on yours. His soft lips dance and open yours to sneak his tongue in. As he explores your mouth skillfully, he removes your mug and puts it aside on your table. Just as you begin to melt in his kisses, he pulls away, which makes you moan in protest. “So who is he?” He looks into your eyes, piercingly.

You sigh, gaining your composure, and push him away. “My friend from school. We just ate dinner.” Why do you need to tell him that? You try to control your breath and your raging heart.

He hums. “What did you talk about?” He then pats your head softly and pushes your fallen hair behind your ear.

You shiver but lean in his touch. You begin to wonder, who he really is to make you so weak only by his hand. Who is he to make you so addicted to him? “Just nostalgic events.”

He nods in understanding. He then rises in his seat and walks to your bed. He unbuttons his shirt and let it fall on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

He turns his head to you as he plops on your bed. “I want to sleep.”

You frown as you walk to him. “And why are you doing this here? Don’t you have a place you call home?”

Taehyung pouts and whines. “Come on, Y/N! My apartment is so far away and I am deadly tired.” He casually pulls the blanket over his body and makes himself comfortable on your bed.

“Well, there is a perfect couch for you tonight.” You bend down and pick up his thrown shirt. You smooth it out and put it on a hanger subconsciously. You then go back to the bed, forcefully trying to pull the blanket off his body.

“This bed is perfect, thank you.”  He says as he tugs the blanket back.

Your jaw drops at his antics. “You seriously just kicked me out of my own bed, in my own apartment?”

He raises his head for a second and pats an empty space on the bed beside him. “I didn’t. You are welcome to join me in this perfect bed.” He smirks. “It’s not like this is our first time sleeping together.”

You feel heat rushing to your face. “I am not going to sleep with you!” You yell. This man.

He looks at you mischievously, “Are you sure? We can continue whatever we were doing on that couch before.”

You gulp. Sure, you can still feel how wet your underwear is as it sticks on your skin. And with Taehyung inviting you to the bed, it is tempting.

Seeing you waver, Taehyung then sets the blanket aside and pulls you into his hug. He then turns his body so now your body is pinned underneath him. “You know, for a woman who hates men that much, you sure love how men touch you.” He leans in and kisses your neck. “Or was it because of my touch?”

You snort but never push him away. Deep inside, you know that you want this as much as him. Taehyung then rolls his hips into you, and you can feel his hardness poking from his pants. “You said that you’re deadly tired!”

He chuckles. “I will never get tired of you, muffin.” He then leans in and takes your lips in his.

“Hello?”

“Taehyung? It’s me Hoseok.” The man on the other line answered.

Taehyung stretched his body and walked to his kitchen. “I know, man. What’s up?” He then opened his fridge and took anything inside to fill his empty stomach. He slept without having breakfast and lunch and now his stomach was growling. This job was really messing with his eating schedule.

“Do you remember Y/N?” Hoseok asked cautiously.

Taehyung hummed. “I do. What’s the point man? You really woke me up from my nap just to tease me about her? Are you that bored already?”

“No. That’s not what I wanted to do, at least right now.” He sighed. “I just saw her.”

Taehyung raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He leaned his back on his fridge as he gulped a carton of milk. “And?”

“I just saw her with Chanyeol.”

Taehyung choked on his milk, not only because it tasted funny but also with a bomb Hoseok just dropped. He then threw the bad milk into the trash and walked back to his bedroom. “Alright, I am coming. I am hanging up!” He then put on the nearest shirt he could get and dialed your number on his phone.

He put his phone on his ear while he’s struggling to put on his pants. And after several times trying to reach you, he hissed and ran from his apartment.

You open your eyes in annoyance. You remember how Taehyung raided your bed last night, and this peaceful morning destroyed by Taehyung making a ruckus in your kitchen. You rise from the bed. Luckily, you slept well last night, but there is soreness between your legs which makes it a little hard for you to walk around.

“What the hell are you doing?” You snap.

Taehyung turns his head to you and smiles sheepishly. “I wanted to make you some breakfast. Sorry to wake you.”

You sigh, “I told you. I don’t need any breakfast.”

“No. You must eat something.” He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he whisks the egg. “Just take a shower.”

Just when you step into the shower, Taehyung plops himself on the couch and looks for your phone. You seem like the type who showers quickly so he doesn’t have much time to look into your phone. He hisses at the lack of security on your phone, and with just a normal swipe he can access your phone. He scrolls quickly to your text messages, email, and contacts, but there is no suspicious activity regarding Chanyeol.

The water from the shower turned off and he puts your phone in the same place as before. He then walks back to the kitchen to continue his cooking. Taehyung is not good at cooking, but there’s no way he can ruin a scrambled egg right?

But unlucky to him, somehow the egg decides to make him an enemy and refuses to cook nicely. The eggs turn brownish-black instead of light yellowish color.

You sit in front of the table with a questioning look on your face. “What’s this?” You ask as you’re faced with an unknown thing on a plate.

“Scrambled eggs?” He scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

You giggle. “It’s okay. I am sure it is edible.” You then grab your fork and start eating it. You almost choke at the bitterness of the egg. Never have you ever tasted an egg like this.

“How is it?” He asks carefully.

You nod your head, trying your best to chew it quickly and shallow it. “It is kinda edible.”

“Really?” He asks as he grabs some from your plate and puts it in his mouth. “Yikes. It is not edible at all. I can’t believe I made you eat it.” He then tries to grab your plate but you slap his hand.

“It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with eating burnt food.” You quickly eat all of it and take a big gulp of water to water it down. “I am sure I will be okay.”

His jaw drops at your actions. He worries about your stomach but somehow feels happy that you ate his food so willingly. He then looks at your body, the blueish color on your neck, and the way you’re sitting uncomfortably. “Sorry, was I too rough last night?”

You choke on your own saliva. You cough hard and drink from the glass of water that Taehyung brought you. After a moment, you begin to calm down and stab the food with your fork. “I am fine.”

“I can see that you’re struggling to walk. Are you sure you can go to work? I can call Hani to tell her that you’re not feeling well.”

You jerk your head up towards him, with redness on your cheeks. “I will be fine! Geez.”

He hides his smile after seeing your red face. So cute. “Oh, right. Thank you for letting me crash here.”

“Just no more sneaking in, okay?” You watch him eating his own burnt food in disgust. “So what is your job?” You ask abruptly, remembering that you know nothing about his job whatsoever.

“I am an agent.” He answers mid-chew. He is the type who chews slowly even when it tastes horrible and you can see him struggling to eat his own dish.

You blink your eyes a couple of times as you push a glass of water towards him. “Like an FBI?”

“Yep.” He nods and drinks the water quickly, to wash down the bitterness of his eggs.

You look at him in amusement. “Sure.” You say sarcastically.

He looks at your eyes softly with a mischievous smile in his face. “You don’t believe me?” His plate is somehow cleared up. He puts his hand under his chin, studying your reaction.

“Nope.” You answer dryly. You rise from your seat and walk to the sink with the plate.

He chuckles. “Good then.” He follows you and then puts his plate on the sink. His body towering you from behind. His breath touches your skin and you jolt in surprise. You push him away suddenly, afraid that he will listen to your beating heart. He just laughs knowingly, completely aware of what he did to you. Maybe it is gonna be his new hobby, to tease you. “Let me walk you to work, muffin.”

It’s been a few weeks since the night Taehyung crashed at your apartment. He has been sleeping at your place almost every night since then. He spent the night so many times, to the point that he has spare clothes in your closet and there is his favorite cereal in your kitchen. Your key under the doormat has been long gone, and it can now be found inside Taehyung’s pocket. When you asked him to give your key back, he refused. He told you that it is safer that way. Not to mention that he told you that it is safer for you when you find him inside your apartment when you come back home.

Sure, he is great company, the sex is great, and the way he forcefully feeds you in the morning has made your gastritis better, but how he somehow just sneaks himself in as part of your nightly routine just makes your feelings for him grow exponentially.

And not just every night. He also calls you during the day too. Asking if you have eaten yet, if you have arrived home safely when he can’t go to your apartment, the recipe for the infamous cookies in your bakery (nice try!), and you can say that your days have been really cheerful lately. You don’t dislike this new addition to your routine.

You also sometimes send a bag full of bread to Taehyung and Hoseok when they work overtime, and somehow his friend named Jungkook also requests for your bread. You are getting busy. After the great review from the food magazine before, the bakery has been buzzing lately. You’ve never been this busy before.

You are in the kitchen baking continuously trying to meet the demand. You and Hani also hired a part-timer to help you with the bakery, a girl named Wendy. She has experience working in a bakery, therefore you and Hani chose her. But still, you assign her to work as a cashier and serve the customers, while you and Hani work in the kitchen.

Just after you put a batch in the oven, a knock on the glass startles you. From there, you can see a tall man waving to you. You wave him back and after washing your hands, you walk outside to greet him.

“What do I owe a pleasure to my bakery’s savior?” You shake Chanyeol’s hand. “Really! It has been a very busy day in our bakery since the magazine.”

He smiles back. “No need to thank me. It was a poll after all. If it were up to me, I would put that bakery across yours in first.” He chuckles.

You hit his shoulder playfully. “Rude!” You gesture him to sit. “So, do you need anything?”

“Ah, right.” He then pulls a big envelope from his bag. “This is for you.”

You raise your eyebrow. “You really need to stop doing that, you know.” You open the envelope and pull out some of the paper. “What’s this?”

“So, there will be a party next week. It is like a buffet, actually.”

You scan the paper. “Wow, the guests look fancy and important. There are also politicians.” You look at Chanyeol questioningly. “So do you want to invite me?”

He chuckles. “No. We want you to be one of the caterer there.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you serious? Oh my god! That will be great!” You rise from your seat and go to Chanyeol to hug him. “Thank you! Thank you!”

He pats your back and laughs. “So, do you agree?”

“Of course, we do!!” You pull away from him. “Oh my, I need to tell Hani.”

“Alright. You do that, and I have to go, unfortunately. Everything you need is written in those papers, but if you need something just call me, okay?” He rises from your seat and kisses your cheek lightly. “Talk to you soon, Y/N.” Chanyeol then waves to Hani who is inside the kitchen and walks away from the bakery.

You should be embarrassed with the sudden action, but you didn’t even care. The only thing on your mind is that you’ll have the chance to serve some important people at an important event. This is such a good opportunity for this small bakery. You run to the kitchen to tell Hani. This is like a dream!

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyung was standing in front of your bakery the whole time. He saw how friendly you were with Chanyeol, how you hugged him, and how he kissed your cheek. And Taehyung felt a weird pang inside his chest. He bites his lip and clenches his hands into fists.

Chanyeol is dangerous. He hates how you dropped your defense to that dangerous man. He hates how you smiled at Chanyeol. He hates it.

You should be hating men. Why don’t you hate Chanyeol as well?

He hates it.

He hates seeing you with another man.

After you discuss it with Hani, you both agree to close the bakery on the day of the event. It is the biggest event for both of you, and you wouldn’t let something wrong happen. You needed to prepare for it carefully.

You are busy designing the sweet corner for the party. This party is huge, so you need to make your corner more eye-catching. It is the point of doing this. You want people to know more about your little bakery.

This bakery is your precious baby.

This bakery is your dream.

You stretch your body. You have been working in the bakery for several hours now. It has closed already, Hani has left early and so did Wendy. You feel more worked up and productive if you work in the workplace, and besides, all of the designs and preparation will be done in the bakery, so there is no use to take it back and forth.

Taehyung hasn’t returned all of your calls after you accepted this event. You called him several times to give him the news but he didn’t answer it. You figured that he was busy with his job, so you don’t want to disturb him. Still, you felt a little disappointed not hearing his voice. After several days of talking to him, he became one of your friends. And you kind of miss him.

Suddenly your doorbell rings, and you turn your head to the door. There you find Taehyung walks casually to your bakery. The one you miss the most. “Hey, Tae! I’ve been wanting to call you.” Your eyes dart back to the scattered paper in front of you and Taehyung then sits across you.

“What are you doing?” He smiles as he takes and looks at one of your papers.

You snatch the paper from his hand. You smile proudly. “It is for our big event this Saturday! Can you believe it? This bakery finally gets recognized by some important people.” He hums as he sees you tidying up. You then rise from your seat with your papers to the locker room. “Have you eaten yet? I will treat you this time.”

“Sure.” He answers shortly.

You tilt your head at his antics. He isn’t usually like this. You get used to him being talkative and kinda bratty. “Okay, wait a minute. I will go to change first.”

When you arrive at the diner, you can count on your fingers at how many times Taehyung opened his mouth. He has never been this quiet before. You look at the menu and take a glance at him. He seems bothered by something.

“I will order carbonara and ice tea.” You say to the waiter. “You?”

“I- I will have the same.”

The waiter then takes the menu from you and walks away. You raise your eyebrow at him. “What happened? You look troubled.”

His face jerks to you and shakes his head. “I am fine. Just a little tired.”

“You don’t plan to crash at my place again, do you?” You squint your eyes suspiciously. “The last time you spent the night in my place, you almost set my kitchen on fire. You really should learn to cook, Tae. Wait, maybe I can teach you something. It would be fun! You won’t believe how many-“

“You should drop the event.” Taehyung interrupts.

Your eyes widen. “I am sorry, what?”

“That event that Park Chanyeol asked you to do. You shouldn’t do it.” He said. His eyes staring at yours. You look into them, finding any mischievousness in them, but there are none.

You are flabbergasted. “You do know that bakery is my dream, right? Why are you like this?” You couldn’t believe your ears. You thought of all of the people, Taehyung would be supportive, or at least, he would be happy for you. But this? “And besides, how do you know about him? Are you stalking me?”

“No, Y/N. I just-“

“Wait, are you from the bakery across mine? Do you want to sabotage my bakery?” You yell. “That’s why you asked for my recipe the other day!” You rise from your seat in fury.

“Calm down, muffin. I am not trying to sabotage your job.” He whispers as he pats your shoulder to calm you down. He forces you to sit again. He smiles awkwardly to the nearby patrons who listen at your squabble. “And we are in a public place.”

“Then explain yourself.” You cross your arms over your chest impatiently.

Your food arrives as he opens his mouth. The waiter puts your food happily, but senses the tension between you two, leaving hurriedly after Taehyung thanks her.

Taehyung sighs, “I can’t explain everything to you. I just want to tell you that Park Chanyeol is dangerous.”

“Why?”

He gulps. He really shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t tell you. He is risking his job, he knows it. But he can’t let you be in danger. Somehow, after many nights shared with you, you became one of the most important people to him. Only God knows why. “I can’t tell you. But you should trust me.”

You snort. “Right, just tell me that. I trust you completely!” You say sarcastically. You look at him carefully, you can see that he still doesn’t want to tell you anything. “You know what, this dinner is a bad idea. I wanted to talk with Taehyung, not this Taehyung.”

You grab your purse and rise from your seat and he grabs your wrist tightly before you walk away. “Wait! I am serious, Y/N.”

“I don’t see why I should trust you. I only knew you for several weeks.”

He hisses. “Okay, that’s so unfair. You can’t just throw me away like I don’t mean anything to you.”

“Then explain to me!” you yell.

Taehyung diverts his eyes from you. “I can’t, muffin. You must trust me.”

You gulp, trying to hold yourself from breaking apart. This is frustrating for you. How come he told you to trust him but didn’t give you any explanations? You trusted him, you trusted him to give you support. But now, the trust is gone. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

Taehyung feels a stab in his chest. Suddenly the memory of your shared hug with Chanyeol clouds Taehyung’s mind. It is nauseating. It is maddening. He grits his teeth and looks at your eyes. “Oh, and you trust him? Is that why you were so friendly to him?”

You furrow your brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You try to jerk his hand off you but his grip tightens.

He glares at you. His eyes are full of rage and you can see the pain in his eyes. “You barely know this guy, and suddenly you trust him more than me?”

Your jaw drops. “This isn’t about you. Who are you to tell me what to do?”

He gives a half-smile and tightens his grip, so painful it makes you wince. “You know what Y/N? I really think that your ‘I hate men’ it’s not real at all. You just made it up.”

Your hands tighten into a fist. “You know nothing about me.”

He chuckles. “Oh, I know a few things, muffin.” He waits for your reply, but as he sees you bite your lips tightly, he continues. “It’s just your defense mechanism. You knew that when your ex cheated on you, you were at fault. And yet you want to blame him.”

“Stop.”

“Then you told people that so you can have better self-esteem, trying to save your own ego.”

You fight back your tears as your breath races in this humiliation. “Stop it.”

Taehyung smirks. “Oh, my bad. It’s not because of that. You are just a slut, right? You make this excuse to get men into bed. I agree that sometimes having baggage or complex is sexy bu-“

You grab your glass of ice tea and throw it to him. You are unaware of how all of the patrons gawk at your action. Your tears have fallen down to your cheeks. Your face turns red in shame and rage. You feel a sting in your heart when he looks at you back. You need to get out of there quickly. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” You release yourself from him forcefully and wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You then pull some bills from your purse and slam it on the table. “As I promise, my treat.”

You walk away in silence, leaving him wet and mad.

Taehyung tightens his hand. What the fuck did I say to her? He then slams his fist on the table, making all of the patrons who watch him look away. He sighs and runs his hand into his hair in exasperation. He didn’t want this to happen. He didn’t want to make you cry. He just wants you to stop going to the event. Sure, the vision of you hugged Chanyeol may be affecting his decision for a bit. He is doomed.

He hates how you’re affecting his actions.

He hates how you can make him lose his mind.

He hates that Hoseok is right.

He hates how you are not just a palate cleanser for him.

taglist: @gee-nee @jaienn @kb-bangtanenthusiast​ @w0lfqu33n​

taglist still open!

[xxx-cat-xxx]

A little broken

Over a year after defeating Thanos and almost losing Tony, Peter is still haunted by the final battle. In an attempt to outrun the memories, he starts college far from New York.

It takes a visit from his mentor and an ill-timed flu bug that brings them both to their knees until Peter realises that he doesn’t have to take on the whole world alone.

Some Irondad hurt/comfort for everyone who’s quarantining at home (and those of you who have to work. Stay safe!) This is my @marveltrumpshate​ fic for Heyriel. Great thanks to @whumphoarder​ for doing so much more than beta reading. I hope you enjoy.

______________________________

The first time they meet, Peter isn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

The man shows up unannounced to Peter’s apartment, chewing on May’s date loaf and walking around Peter’s room as if he owns the place—talking as if he owns the whole world. Peter is both awed and appalled, May’s occasional comments about greedy billionaires ringing in his ears. But then Peter starts talking about his motivation for doing what he does, and for a moment something in the older man’s face seems to break. That’s when Peter knows that there’s more to him than what makes the tabloids. 

Germany is both a thrilling adventure and an unparalleled disaster. Peter watches the group of heroes he’s looked up to since childhood break apart before his very eyes. The fight is grueling, taking more out of Peter than he knew was possible. He is lying there on the ground, trying to catch his breath, when Tony bends over him. And for a moment, there it is again: the broken facade on his face—below it, pure panic. The way Tony looks at him with thinly masked worry reminds him of Ben’s expression whenever Peter was little and having an asthma attack, and it does something to his insides that he can’t really explain. 

Then, a few months later, Peter inevitably screws up and slices a ferry in half. The two of them are standing high above the city when Tony takes his suit away, and Peter feels tears pricking at his eyes. He cries later in his room, alone, because it’s so much more than just the suit; he feels that by disappointing Tony he’s lost his chance at something so much bigger. 

It’s a miracle he manages to fix this one.

After Siberia, Tony is darker and quieter and indisputably older—like he’s finally grown up. Peter is sad for him, but it’s not all bad either. This new Tony starts taking more of an interest in Peter’s training—starts acting like a real mentor to him. There are afternoons spent together in the lab, dinners at the tower with Tony and Mr. Rhodes, and even the occasional low-stakes mission. Slowly, Tony’s world starts to feel like a place where Peter might one day belong.

But then, the universe gets ripped in two and somewhere on a red and war-torn planet, Peter clings to Tony in desperation, feeling first his body, then his thoughts slip away from him. 

When he wakes again, there’s another battle to fight, but this time there’s no thrill to it. It’s his personal horror film come true.

He can hear the moment when Tony’s heart stops. Peter cries openly this time.  

*

In the end, Tony makes it through. He loses an arm and much of his physical strength, but he’s stubborn as hell and fights his way through recovery. But somehow the day of the battle never fades from Peter’s brain like memories should. 

When he finishes school, May proposes NYU, Tony naturally wants MIT, but Peter chooses Culver University. It might be good for him to get out of New York, is what he says. It might be good for him not to be in a place that has Tony’s legacy lurking around every corner, is what he thinks. And maybe moving away will make things easier when he returns. 

Three months into Peter’s first semester at Culver, Tony accepts a guest speaking gig at the university and decides to stay at a nearby hotel to spend the weekend with Peter.

And that’s when it all goes to hell. 

*

“Hello? Earth to Peter.” Tony waves a hand in his face. “Who are you daydreaming about?”

“Huh?” Peter looks up at Tony, then down at his half-finished iced tea. “Nothing,” he evades. “Nobody, I mean. Sorry, I’m just—just tired. And I have a lot of work left this weekend.”

“Mh-hmm.” Tony looks as if he isn’t quite believing it. “You want more spring rolls?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait for the main dish.” 

Peter hasn’t eaten much today, but he’s not quite hungry either. He’s nursing a headache and the tiredness is not just an excuse. As happy as Peter is to see his mentor, Tony’s timing in showing up the week before midterms really could’ve been better. Peter feels like he might fall asleep right here at the restaurant table, but he already knows that he’s going to have to stay up until late to finish his readings. 

“You’re doing it again,” Tony points out. “You’re being awfully quiet, kid. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, seriously.” Peter manages to hold eye contact for a few seconds and then takes another sip of his iced tea. “So, you said we could fix the suit while you’re here?”

Tony takes the bait (or maybe just lets it drop intentionally) and the talk quickly turns technical. 

After a few minutes, they’re interrupted by the waitress—a student Peter thinks he recognises from his Python lab—who stares at Tony for a moment, her gaze lingering on the scars decorating his right cheek and ear before dropping down to his bionic arm. Then she catches herself and asks for their order.

When their food arrives, Peter observes Tony take out a box of different coloured pills and swallow a couple of them dry. 

“I know, not sexy,” Tony remarks, noticing his look, “but sort of necessary if I want to keep this baby ticking.” He taps his hand over his chest with a wan smile. 

Peter grins half-heartedly in return, even while he can feel his insides clench. The comment reminds him of the time Tony’s heart actually did stop, of the battlefield with the dust of Thanos’ army still hanging in the air, of the utter helplessness he felt when Tony snapped, of― 

“Uhm, excuse me?” It’s the waitress again, her voice shy, cheeks blushing. She extends a piece of paper toward Tony. “Could I, uhm, could you, maybe give me an autograph for my sister? She’s a big fan. I mean, we all are, of course, but she’s got her room decorated with posters of you and all that…”

Tony looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing around his lips. “What’s your sister’s name?” he asks finally, making a show of producing an integrated pen from his bionic arm. The waitress is visibly impressed, and Peter resists the temptation to roll his eyes―it’s far from the first time he’s seen this trick. If Tony was famous before, it’s nothing compared to the status he earned since dusting Thanos and saving the universe. 

Tony gives the waitress an easy smile along with the paper he passes back, and then turns back to Peter with a smirk. “Fangirls,” he whispers. “Gotta love ‘em. Did I tell you about the kid who offered me all of his allowance for a hoofprint from Gerald?”

*

Because Tony is Tony, it takes a long time before he has caught Peter up on anecdotes of Morgan, Happy, and Gerald’s newest misadventures, and by the time Peter gets back home, it is already late evening. His studio apartment is small and rather old, with walls that have turned grey over time and windows that don’t fully close anymore, but it’s got its own kitchen and bathroom, which is much better than a dorm room―especially since Peter wouldn’t know how to explain the odd hours he keeps or the regular blood stains in the shower to any of his fellow students. 

Peter’s head has been throbbing painfully for the better part of an hour, and the lights from the screen when he pulls out his laptop don’t make it any better. All his body seems to want is sleep, but if he’s going to spend the next two days upgrading his suit with Tony’s help, he really needs to get these chemistry readings finished. 

He tries for several hours, but the words don’t seem to want to stick in his mind and it takes longer than expected until he feels that he has understood the chapter. Peter drops into bed around 3:30 in the morning, too tired to even change out of his jeans, and falls asleep immediately.

*

Peter is woken up by someone knocking on his apartment door to the beat of “We Will Rock You”, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. He drags himself out of bed and over to the door.

“Finally,” Tony sighs when Peter lets him in, shoving a reusable thermal to-go cup in the kid’s face and causing him to flinch backwards. “I thought I’d have to actually start singing.” Then he gives Peter a once-over and his face falls. “What happened to you?”

“I think I’m sick,” Peter replies, realising it is true the same moment the words leave his mouth. His head is hurting even more than the night before and his throat feels raw and painful, but the worst is the utter weakness in his body and the chills running down his back that tell him he has a fever. 

“What kind of sick?” Tony asks suspiciously. To Peter’s surprise, instead of turning on his heel and leaving the surely germ-infested apartment, Tony steps over the threshold and raises a hand to cup to Peter’s forehead.

“Dunno.” Peter shrugs. “Just feel like garbage. Flu was going around the school last week―it’s probably that.”

“Aw, kid,” Tony sighs, something like compassion in his voice. “Yeah, you feel really warm.” 

“Sorry about the suit,” Peter says, moving back to sit down on his bed heavily. “I guess you can just go back to New York early then.” 

“What? You think I’m coldhearted enough to leave my former intern alone on his deathbed somewhere in the Virginian wilderness?” 

“Culver’s not that bad,” Peter defends. “And I’m not alone either.”

“So that means you have someone here to take care of you?” Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow.

Peter hesitates. “I… May’s a nurse,” he evades. “I can call her.” 

Truth is, there actually isn’t anybody. He hasn’t really made friends yet―at least certainly not the kind he would consider asking to take care of him while he’s down with the flu. He calls May twice a week, skypes with Ned—and occasionally still with MJ—on the weekends, and he’s friendly enough with his classmates when they’re working together in classes. But his downtime is mostly spent studying on his own and patrolling the city at night.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” Tony looks him over appraisingly, then seems to make a decision and presses the cup of hot chocolate into Peter’s hand. “Guess I’ll stick around for a bit. Here, drink that.” 

“I don’t really feel like it.” Peter is definitely queasy, bordering on nauseous, and the thought of drinking something as rich as hot chocolate almost makes his stomach turn. He shifts on the bed so that he can lean against the headboard, feeling too tired to hold his body up without support.

“Well, you need to have something. Super metabolism and all that.” Tony strides over to the small, definitely not tidy kitchenette and starts opening cupboards, most of which are empty. He comes up with a few packets of shrimp-flavoured instant noodles and a box of Coco Puffs. “Really, kid?”

“I was gonna get groceries today,” Peter says defensively. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that now,” Tony states. “What do you say to buttered noodles? That’s all Morgan ever wants when she’s sick.” 

“Yeah, that’s...that’s fine,” Peter says, dumbfounded at the idea of Tony Stark going to the supermarket and making pasta for him. 

“Good. Glad that you agree, since that’s about as far as my cooking skills go.” He zips up his jacket and grabs Peter’s keys from the table. “Don’t do anything stupid till I’m back.” With that, he’s out of the door. 

Peter doesn’t feel like he’d be able to do anything stupid even if he wanted to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this bad, and with his Spider-Manning lifestyle, that really says something. He’s thirsty, but his throat hurts in a way that doesn’t make him want to swallow anything. There’s an ugly taste in his mouth and he really wants to brush his teeth, but the bathroom could just as well be a hundred miles away. 

If May were here, she would have set him up on the sofa with Star Trek: TOS playing on the TV while changing his sheets and airing out the room, he thinks. And suddenly the homesickness hits him like a train. He misses May. He misses New York and his friends and even the busy schedule that high school provided him with, but mostly he misses coming home to an apartment that’s not empty, having someone to eat breakfast with in the mornings and share his day with in the evenings over burnt teriyaki chicken. Just the thought of May’s disastrous cooking skills almost brings tears to his eyes. 

He stays like this for an indefinite amount of time, feeling miserable and blinking back tears, until Tony eventually returns. He sets down the shopping bag on the table and closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge between them with his fingers, the telltale sign that he has a headache. 

“You okay?” Peter asks hoarsely.

“Yeah. You live in a village, kid. Took forever to find a parking spot and then everyone and their mother wanted an autograph. Basically fought my way out of there. Might have to give my lawyer a heads up, actually.” 

Peter can’t even bring himself to force a laugh. A part of him wants to tell Tony to just go home already; the other part of him really, really doesn’t want to be alone right now. He sniffs hard and swallows to keep his nose from dripping.

“Hey,” Tony’s expression sobers as he sits down next to him on the mattress. “Did I miss something?”

“I just―” Peter rubs a sleeve over his watery eyes, feeling embarrassed. He thinks for an excuse and suddenly remembers the very real problems of college. “Ah, crap.” 

“Huh?” Tony asks.

“I have two tests next week,” Peter admits miserably. “I haven’t done anything for them yet―I was going to study this weekend in the evenings―”

“That’s fine, kid, we can deal with that. We saved the universe, remember? Schoolwork is nothing compared to Thanos, trust me.”

“I know,” Peter sniffs. Then, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I‘m just missing home.” 

“Ah,” Tony says. He lays his bionic hand on Peter’s shoulder and rubs it. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter goes on, “I didn’t mean, I’m just―” 

“You’re just sick and tired and emotional,” Tony assesses, but there’s no judgement in his voice. “Come on.” He gestures for Peter to lie down and pulls the blanket up to his neck. “Go to sleep, kid.” His tone is almost soft. “I’ll be here.”

Peter falls into a feverish, exhausted sleep. He’s dimly aware of an icy cold gripping him and chills wracking his body, and then of Tony putting an extra blanket on him. At some point Tony offers food, but Peter’s too tired to even fully open his eyes. He mumbles something that he hopes Tony understands and turns over to the other side. 

The next time he fully surfaces, it’s from Tony gently shaking him awake. “Hey Pete, I know you’re tired, but you really need to eat something.” 

“Don’ wanna,” he mutters, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Peter. Come on, kid.” 

He blinks himself awake. The apartment is dark now; it must be evening already. The faint smell of food lingers in the air. “D’ I sleep all day?” he asks, confused. 

“Almost. You can still catch Saturday Night Live.” 

“Hmm.” Peter sits up slowly. He feels woozy and weak and his head is still hurting, which is ridiculous considering how long he slept for. 

“Just let me check your temperature.” Tony takes off his smartwatch and presses it against Peter’s neck, just under his chin. The cold metal sends shivers down his spine. 

“102.6,” Tony reports. “Yeah, that’s not great. A pity that fever reducers don’t work on you.” Tony’s voice sounds rough. Peter squints up at him just as the man turns his head into his shoulder to cough. He looks tired—really tired—and, as far as Peter can make out in the dim light of the bedside lamp, his face is kind of flushed. 

“Are you okay?” Peter croaks. 

“Uhm...” For a moment it looks like Tony wants to lie, but then he falters. “Not really. Guess I caught the same bug you did.”

“Shit,” Peter says. This sucks big time. 

“I already texted May—she’ll probably be up here tomorrow. As soon as you’d had something to eat and drink, I’ll go back to the hotel and get out of your hair. You don’t need an old sick man around.”

“What? No!” Peter blurts before he can stop himself. He feels his breath speeding up, horrified at both the idea of Tony leaving him here alone, and of Tony being on his own in some hotel room feeling as miserable as Peter does now. “Please don’t go.”

Tony looks taken aback. “Pete, I don’t think I’m going to be much help soon.” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Peter feels himself blushing. “It’s nice not to be alone,” he admits in a small voice. 

Tony gives him a long look. “Okay, fine,” he agrees eventually. “But that means you have to listen to me. And the first rule is: eat your dinner, kid.”

They eat quietly. Tony is visibly making an effort not to let on just how bad he’s feeling, but Peter has learned to read the signs during his mentor’s long period of recovery from the snap. Tony is rubbing his shoulder whenever he thinks that Peter isn’t looking, which means that his prosthesis is hurting him. His shoulders are slumped, showing how tired he is, he’s nursing a headache, and then there is the fairly obvious sign of him hardly having eaten anything except for two spoons of pasta and his medication.

After dinner, Tony calls Pepper while Peter calls May. She gives him a run-down of the usual flu advice―“Stay hydrated, try and rest, and for god’s sake, don’t pile every blanket you own on yourself like that time you had strep, Peter—keep the curtains on the windows”—and promises to drive up tomorrow if she can get her shift covered. Then she asks to talk to Tony. Meanwhile, Peter uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth and changes into pyjamas. Observing himself in the mirror, he realises just how run-down he looks. He splashes some water on his face, which does nothing except make him shiver. 

“She asked whether you built that Lego ship she got you for your birthday,” Tony announces when Peter returns. 

“Oh.” Peter hasn’t, of course. He’s neither had the time nor the motivation to do so without Ned.

Tony makes a show of looking around the room. “This place is less personal than an airbnb. I told her there’s not even a poster on your wall.”

“So what?” Peter sighs. He feels the need to defend himself, but he’s too sick to come up with anything.  

Tony doesn’t press it, luckily. He borrows a pair of sweatpants, which end up being a bit short around his ankles and make it look like he’s outgrown them. It almost makes Peter smile. They pull out the sofa-sleeper that May insisted on him getting, but which he’s had no opportunity to use until now. When everything is set up, Peter is almost dizzy from being on his feet for so long. He’s both sweating and shivering and very glad to lie back down under the covers.

Tony turns on the TV, but neither of them is really paying attention. Peter is half asleep a few minutes into the news and Tony seems visibly uncomfortable, shifting around every few minutes on the couch. 

“Do you want to switch to the bed?” Peter asks him, secretly hoping for the answer to be no―he really doesn’t want to get up again. Tony shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. Then he gets to his feet faster than Peter would have thought possible for someone in his condition and bolts to the bathroom. 

Peter hears nothing for a while. Then there’s a few weak coughs, followed by a retch and the sound of splashing. Peter cringes, his own stomach twisting in sympathy. The small size of the apartment and his enhanced hearing make it impossible to tune out the sounds as Tony continues to be sick into the toilet for the next ten minutes. When the retching tapers off, Peter shakily gets to his feet and fills a glass of water from the kitchenette. 

He knocks on the bathroom door, then leans heavily against the frame. “I got you some water,” he calls, hearing Tony’s ragged breathing inside. “Can I come in?”

“Just go to sleep, kid,” Tony croaks. 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbles under his breath. After a few moments, he hears the sound of the flush and then the door opens. Tony is covered in sweat and looking about as bad as Peter feels, plus there’s a greenish tinge to his face. The smell of vomit wafts out and hits Peter’s nostrils, turning his own stomach. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Tony croaks says hoarsely and takes the water from his hand. His metal fingers feel cold against Peter’s burning skin when they brush the back of his hand. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

“‘S okay,” Peter mumbles. He suddenly has a hard time focusing on Tony. His head feels so heavy that he has to rest it against the doorframe as well. 

“Jeez, kid,” Tony comments. Then his face drains even more of colour and he presses his knuckles against his lips, swallowing thickly. “Go lie down, okay? I’ll be out in a bit.” With that, he turns and disappears back into the bathroom. 

For once, Peter listens to him, unsure whether he will be able to keep standing much longer anyway. After a moment of consideration, he curls up on the couch, leaving the softer bed for the older man. He drifts there for a while, trying to tune out the sounds of sickness coming from the bathroom. 

Eventually, he is dimly aware of someone entering the room and switching off the lights. There’s cold metal touching his neck as someone takes his temperature and tsks, then softly brushes back his hair and lays a cold washcloth on his forehead. It feels amazing against Peter’s burning skin.

“Thanks, May,” he mumbles.

*

Waking up feels like resurfacing after diving into a deep pool of water. Peter’s eyelids are sticky with sleep and his brain feels like it’s been through a potato masher. He’s disoriented, so it takes a bit until he realises that it was Tony’s voice that woke him. “Pete,” he hears him calling again weakly. Something about it shakes him out of his half-awake state. 

“Tony?” he asks, sitting up. There’s a rustling sound and a thump from the bathroom, confirming his worry. A quick glance at his phone on the bedside table tells him that it’s just after 4am. Definitely not the time to take a shower.

Peter’s head swims when he gets up from the couch. He takes a few unsteady steps towards the bathroom and then stops to lean against the wall until his vision clears and he can open the door.

Tony is on the ground next to the toilet, wrenched in between the bowl and the shower, looking about ten times worse than earlier. His face is almost grey except for the scars on his right cheek, which are flushed in an angry red. His dark eyes are glassy and deeply exhausted. Sweat sticks to his hair and t-shirt, the prosthesis off and one sleeve dangling empty. The smell of vomit hangs thickly in the air, much stronger than before.

Tony slowly lifts his head when Peter steps in. “Hey,” he croaks, attempting a smile and giving up somewhere halfway. “Sorry for waking you. ‘S just that I could use some help.”

“With what exactly?” 

“Getting up?” Tony asks sheepishly. “I tried and almost took down your shower curtain.”

Peter blinks. “Well, shit.”

“You said it, kid.” 

Peter extends a hand and Tony grabs it gratefully, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Peter closes the toilet lid and Tony sits down on it with a heavy sigh. He shudders convulsively, then closes his eyes and swallows rapidly a few times, as if trying to stop himself from being sick again. 

“How long have you been in here?” Peter asks while checking Tony’s temperature on his smart watch. He finds it to be at a worrying 103.6.

“Uhm,” Tony makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Midnight, maybe? Kinda lost track of time.” Peter frowns. “Sorry for waking you up, kid,” Tony says again, taking his expression the wrong way. “That’s kind of why I didn’t want to stay.”

“You should have called me earlier.” Peter fills a glass of water from the tap. “And yeah, really reassuring to think of you spending the night on the bathroom floor of your hotel because you can’t get up on your own.”

Tony mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Not like I haven’t done that before.” When Peter hands him the glass, the man’s hands are trembling so much that half of the water spills out onto his shirt. 

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “All my spares are at the hotel.” 

“I can give you one of mine,” Peter offers. 

“Yeah, that... that would be great,” Tony says earnestly. Peter wonders whether he’s maybe a bit delirious. “This shit didn’t use to happen before the snap, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter says, surprised at the admission. He fetches a clean sweatshirt from the dresser and hands it to the older man. His mentor’s whole body is shaking violently with chills. While Tony changes, Peter notices that the scar pattern around his shoulder stump is an angry red. It looks painful, but Tony doesn’t seem to care too much. 

Something twists within Peter. It reminds him too much of the time just after the snap when he saw Tony in the hospital, weak with fever from the infected limb.

“Ready for bed?” Peter asks, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“Yeah,” Tony says, although he doesn’t look too sure. Peter pulls him upright and almost staggers under the man’s weight and his own weakness. Tony doesn’t comment, and when Peter turns towards him, he sees that he is biting his lips, eyes largely unfocused. 

“This really hit you hard, huh?” Peter asks when they have made it to the bed, sitting down next to Tony. His mentor is bending forward, head in his hands, panting and shaking like he just finished a mission in the suit. That’s not the only thing, though. With his advanced hearing, Peter can pick up Tony’s heartbeat, which is slightly arrhythmic. 

“Tony?” he asks suspiciously. “What’s wrong with your heart?”

“Yeah, about that…” The other man raises his head, but avoids Peter’s gaze.

“What?” Peter can feel his own heart rate speeding up in worry.

“I, uh...remember my heart medication?” Tony says casually. “I threw up the last dose. It’s not dangerous, don’t worry,” he adds when Peter stares at him, alarmed, “Or, well, at least not yet. Just sort of increases the nausea and dizziness.”

“Can’t you take another dose?” he asks. 

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now,” Tony admits. “But I’ll try in the morning.”

“Hmm.” This doesn’t really do anything to make Peter feel better. 

“Don’ worry, kid” Tony adds with a tired slur to his words, which only achieves the opposite. With a lot of effort, he pulls his legs up to the bed and then lies down under the blankets. “Let’s both sleep for a bit and things will look brighter in the morning.”

Peter gets himself a glass of water and then curls back up on the couch. He hears Tony’s breaths turn heavy and even out before long, but although he feels exhausted, he has a hard time going back to sleep. The sofa feels like rocks under his achy body, and he keeps turning around, unable to find a comfortable position. His head doesn’t fare any better. With his brain cloudy from fever, it’s even harder than usual to stave off the memories from the battlefield. 

His eyes finally fall shut and back he goes, right into the middle of dust and blood and death looming around every corner. He knows that there should be screams and shouts everywhere, but it’s silent, dead silent, except for the underlying thump-thump-thump of Tony’s heartbeat, becoming ever quieter. 

Peter rounds a heap of rubble and almost stumbles over Tony, who is lying on the ground, half his body eaten away by the radiation. The beating gets weaker even as Peter falls onto his knees and tears stream down his cheeks. He’s been here a hundred times, unable to save the man who saved him, and he knows exactly how this is going to end. 

A beat, almost indiscernible. A breath leaves Tony’s lips for the last time. 

Silence. 

*

He wakes to the feeling that everything in the world that possibly could be wrong, is wrong. His whole body is hot and he feels nauseous, almost as if he will throw up. Sick, he remembers. He’s sick. Tony’s― 

Peter forces himself to take a deep breath that comes out more like a choked sob. He sits up dizzily, and is surprised by the light streaming through the windows. His eyes immediately wander to Tony’s still form on the bed, covered by blankets. Peter can make out his slightly ragged breathing, but he’s way past the point where he would feel calmed by this. 

Unsteadily, he makes his way over to the bed and sits down on the floor next to it, shivering uncontrollably from the coldness of the tile, but not wanting to wake Tony up. He tries to calm himself, but his heart won’t stop racing. Everything feels kind of surreal and he can’t shake the image of Tony’s body on the ground, so still and lifeless. There are tears burning in his eyes. He shoves his knuckles in his mouth to keep himself from sobbing loudly. 

“Kid?” Tony’s groggy voice asks. “What ‘appened?”

“S-Sorry,” Peter manages. “G-Go back to sleep.”

“Hey.” Tony rubs his eyes and tries to push himself up, only partially succeeding. Looking at Peter, his face takes on an alarmed expression. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Peter whispers, feeling infinitely stupid. “J-Just had a nightmare.” He bites his lip, but with the admission, a dam seems to break. He can feel his eyes overflowing. 

“Hey, kid, hey,” Tony says softly. “It’s alright.”

Peter just shakes his head, tears dripping down his cheeks onto the floor. Tony extends a trembling hand to wipe them away. “Do these nightmares happen often?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Peter evades. He wonders why he doesn’t just tell the truth. That there’s rarely a night when he doesn’t go back to the battle against Thanos, or the dust on Titan, or even the Vulture in flames―an enemy that seems ridiculous now compared to the ones they’ve fought since, but sometimes still makes it into Peter’s dreams. 

“It’s gotten worse again, hasn’t it?” Tony asks. “Since you moved here.” His hand drops down to Peter’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. 

“‘S okay,” he lies. “I’m fine. Jus’... just the fever.”

“Mmh-hmm, sure. Come here.” Tony nods his head towards himself, weakly lifting an arm, and Peter lets himself get pulled into the hug. “Woah, kid. You’re on fire.” 

“Hmm,” Peter mumbles. “You too.” 

It’s true; Tony’s body feels even hotter than his. The sweatshirt Peter had given him is already damp with sweat. And, most concerningly, his heart is still beating out of rhythm. It reminds Peter way too much of his dream for him to ignore it. 

“You need to have some water,” Tony says, ignorant to Peter’s thoughts. “And eat something. It’s been a while.”

Peter’s queasiness increases at the thought. “Stomach’s not feeling great,” he admits. “How are you doing?” he asks then, into the older man’s chest. “And don’t lie.” 

He feels Tony grimacing. “Like a clock someone forgot to wind up.” His remaining arm lets go of Peter as he brings it to his chest to massage the area around his heart. “But hey, don’t worry. I’m gonna try my pills and some water and then I’ll be back on my bullshit before you know it.” 

But he isn’t. Half an hour later, Peter has to support Tony to the toilet to once again throw up the medication and the few sips of water he’s just managed to get down. He stops trying to reassure Peter after the second bout of painful dry heaves wrack his body and doesn’t even resist when Peter wipes down his grey face with a wet cloth. On their way back, halfway across the bedroom, they almost lose balance when Tony’s legs suddenly give out. Peter just manages to stabilise him before they can faceplant all the way. 

“That’s it. You need to go to the ER,” Peter decides after all-but carrying Tony back to the bed and sitting him down. Peter’s own body feels heavy with exhaustion. Tony weakly shakes his head and opens his mouth to object. “Please, Tony.”

There must have been something in his voice that gave away his desperation because Tony shuts up mid-inhale. He gives Peter a deep look and then nods shakily. ”But only if you eat something first.”

“Okay.” He checks Tony’s temperature, which has climbed even higher, to 103.8. Peter’s own is hardly any better at 103.2, but at least he can still stand―kind of, he realises when he has to sit down to be able to concentrate on his phone screen long enough to call a cab. 

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s a mile long. Peter surveys the meagre food choices and decides that cold pasta with salt looks like the best option. After the first few bites, his queasiness abides a bit and he manages to finish his small plate, suddenly realising how hungry he was. He drinks two glasses of water with it and finally feels a little less lightheaded. Then he goes to the bathroom and, on a whim, swallows a small handful of painkillers from the bottle of Advil Tony has sitting beside his pill box. They will hardly do anything for him, but hopefully they’ll keep him upright until they reach the hospital.

When Peter comes back, he expects Tony to be lying where he left him and is already wondering how he’s going to maneuver him down the stairs from the second floor with the man's balance shot and his own legs feeling like noodles. But Tony is sitting up and in the process of putting on his shoes. His determination, however, falters a bit when it comes to actually standing up. 

“Just go slow,” Peter directs, supporting Tony to the door and taking on most of the man’s weight. “One step at a time.”

They make it down the first staircase before Tony holds up a hand. “Just need a minute,” he exhales, sitting down with a sigh and leaning against the wall, his eyelids fluttering shut. His breathing is ragged. Peter looks at him worriedly, the unsteady thump of the man’s heartbeat loud in his ears. Tony, as if feeling the gaze, opens one eye to squint at him. “Not dead yet, kid. Come on, let’s get downstairs.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that the painkillers are wearing off faster than expected or that Peter’s anxiety is finally getting the better of him, but the cab ride is kind of a blur. He just remembers Tony sitting with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, looking deathly exhausted, and at some point grabbing the older man’s hand and holding on. 

Peter only lets go of it when he has to fill in the forms once they reach the hospital. The ER nurse takes one look at Tony’s scarred face and missing arm and then directs them to a private room. Peter’s hand is shaking so hard that Tony’s name on the form looks like a child’s scrawl. Behind him, his mentor is already being connected to a heart monitor, while another nurse is bringing an IV stand.

He hands the form to the elderly nurse and then has to steady himself against the wall when he stumbles a bit. 

Her brow furrows. “Are you alright?” she asks. 

“Y-Yes,” Peter answers quickly. 

“Bullshit. He’s got the flu too,” Tony mutters from the bed behind them. 

“I’m fine,” Peter insists, feeling his heart rate spike. They’ve done a great deal to keep his secret identity, well, secret while he’s at Culver, and he’s not about to let his powers be discovered just because of a flu bug. “Really, I’m okay. Not a big deal.”

“Honey, you can’t be here as a visitor if you’re sick,” the nurse says, her tone kind, but firm. “You’ll risk infecting the other patients.”

Peter looks up, taking a moment to understand the implications. “What? No, please don’t make me go!” 

The nurse eyes him critically, then sighs and relents. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to be inside this room at all times. I can’t have you walking around spreading germs.”

“That’s okay,” Peter agrees immediately. It’s not like he was planning to walk the halls anyway; his legs feel like they might go on strike any moment. When the nurse turns around to start working on Tony, Peter wobbles over to an uncomfortable chair in the corner and collapses into it.

He feels like the next time he takes an actual breath is once Tony is hooked up to painkillers, antiemetics, and something for his heart, the fluids dripping steadily into his arm through an IV and the heart monitor finally—finally—reverts back to a steady rhythm of beeps. Tony isn’t conscious anymore to notice; after spending the better part of the last 24 hours on Peter’s bathroom floor, his exhaustion has finally gotten the upper hand. He drifts off as soon as the meds start kicking in. 

Once the nurses leave, Peter drags his chair over next to the bed. Tony looks—there is no other way to describe it—frail. Like he might fall apart any minute if Peter stops watching. His fever is still much too high at 103.3 and he is sleeping fitfully, as if the dreams are haunting him as well. Peter can still see images from the nightmare in his mind. Not clear, but looming, like he might find himself on the battlefield any time he turns around. 

He doesn’t want to fall asleep, but he’s dead tired. Now with the adrenaline fading, it feels like his body weighs a thousand pounds. He suddenly doesn’t even feel able to keep his head up, and instead lets himself slump forward, crossing his arms and resting his head on top. His cold hands are a sharp contrast to his burning face. 

His mind feels oddly detached from his body, like he’s floating, and he has no idea how much time has passed when suddenly the nurse shakes him awake from where he’s slidden down onto the edge of Tony’s mattress. “Can you just move for a second, hon?” she asks gently. “I need to hook up some more fluids."

"Oh yeah, sure, of course..." Peter nods groggily and goes to stand up a little too quickly. The moment he is on his feet, he can practically feel the blood rushing away from his head, and a wave of darkness rolls over him. Peter grabs for something to hold on to but comes up empty. He feels himself sway into the nurse, who grabs his shoulders and just about manages to keep him from face planting on the hospital floor.

“You’re really warm, dear,” she observes after helping him sit back down on the chair. "You really can't be here if you're not a patient. Let me call someone to get you a bed."

“But I—” Peter feels panic swelling in his chest. He doesn’t want to leave Tony alone, especially when he can’t be sure that the man’s heart won’t stop again, but he can’t let anyone find out about Spider-Man either―

"Peter, it's fine,” he hears a thin voice. Tony, just woken up, is shifting wearily under the blanket, turning his head towards them. “They'll sign NDAs and no one will know. Just do what she says and get in the bed, alright?"

So Peter does. The nurse calls her colleague, who sets up a bed next to Tony’s and takes Peter’s vitals. After Peter groggily explains that fever reducers won’t do anything to bring down his 103.5 degree temperature, the nurse hooks him up to fluids to counteract the dehydration.

The world goes blurry again and he is half asleep when he sees Tony slip something into the elderly nurse’s hand on her way out the door.  

When she’s gone, Peter gives Tony a confused look. “You bribed her to let me stay in the room?” 

“What are you talking about?” Tony scoffs lightly. “I just asked nicely and told her you took part in saving the world―that was more than enough.” He shrugs a bit. “And I might’ve signed an autograph for her son.” 

Peter would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn’t hurting so much. “Still a bribe,” he mumbles.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Tony says warmly.

He closes his eyes but then opens them again to see Tony watching him. “You’ll be okay, right?” Peter asks. 

“Of course,” Tony replies. “I’m always okay.”

*

When Peter wakes up again in the early evening, it’s to May lightly stroking his curls out of his face. A tension he didn’t even know he was holding seems to fall off his shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” she says softly when he hugs her. “Rough weekend, huh?” 

It is decided that neither of them has to spend the night at the hospital―Tony has to fight to be discharged, but they eventually let him go after making him promise to rest, take his medicine, and tell May if his heart acts up again. In turn, Tony collects each of the staff members’ contact details to have his lawyers send NDAs later. 

The drive back to the flat is quiet. Tony attempts small talk for the first five minutes, but is still too out of it from the combined force of illness and drugs, and quickly gives up again. Peter is just relieved that May is there. 

Once they’re home, May makes both of them eat some toast and then ushers them off to bed. Peter feels like he hasn’t slept since he moved to Virginia, and maybe that’s true in a way. But now with Tony and May both there, he finally feels like it’s safe to let himself go. 

*

He wakes up to May opening the windows to let in the chilly morning air.

“C’n I have some water?” he mumbles. 

May hands him the glass. “Your fever has come down a bit overnight. Feeling any better?” she asks. 

“Hmm.” He’s still weary and headachey, but the chills are gone and the world seems much less frightening now. “How’s Tony?” he asks.

“Still asleep. We talked a little last night—he didn’t get much rest, I’m afraid. But you should wake him up and tell him it’s time for food and medicine.”

Peter sits up and is rewarded with a lack of dizziness. He goes to the toilet and washes his face before trudging over to the bed and sitting down carefully on the mattress next to his mentor’s sleeping form. Tony’s eyes are moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids as if he’s in the middle of a dream. His hair is a greasy mess, the scars as red and angry as before and his cheeks still flushed with fever, but the rest of his face isn’t as pale as it was the previous day, and, when he listens carefully, Peter can make out his regular heartbeat.

“Tony?” Peter whispers, gently touching his flesh shoulder. 

Tony grunts and rolls himself over. “Pep?” he asks in a muffled voice. 

“Not exactly.” Tony blinks awake and squints up at Peter. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh…I want my hospital drugs back,” Tony half-jokes. “But not on the verge of cardiac failure anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmm.” Peter reaches for his hand to check the smart watch. “Your temperature’s down.” Tony’s is at 101.5, whereas Peter’s is at 100.7. Tony gives first the numbers and then Peter a critical once-over before closing his eyes again. 

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Peter warns. “May said you need to take your medicine and eat something.”

Tony groans audibly. “Nurses never let you have any fun...” 

*

The first time they met, Peter wasn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

Times have changed, Peter thinks, as he surveys the scene in his apartment. 

After a painfully slow shuffle to the bathroom and back, Tony decides that he doesn’t feel up to walking around just yet, so they all eat breakfast in bed, assembled on various pillows and blankets, while Star Trek plays on the TV in the background. With his appetite returning and worries temporarily lifted, Peter devours two pieces of toast with chocolate spread and a glass of orange juice while Tony sticks to saltines, tea, and the pills he swallows under May’s watchful eye. 

When they’re done, May announces that she’s heading out for groceries. “No crime-fighting until I’m back,” she orders with a smile. “And I want each of you to finish the water bottles on the table.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Tony salutes sarcastically. The moment May shuts the door, he sets down his half-finished cup of tea and slumps visibly into his pillows. 

“You alright?” Peter asks immediately. 

“Jeez, kid, you’re worse than Morgan,” Tony comments, not without affection. “I know last night was scary for you, but honestly, this is not even in my top 20 for life-threatening events I’ve experienced in the last few decades.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Peter retorts. “Because it really doesn’t.”

He must have come across less playful than intended, because Tony’s expression sobers. He regards Peter with the deep look that always gives him the feeling of being x-rayed. 

“I know,” Tony says. “But that’s kind of the point. I’ve been through so much shit in my life that I know pretty much exactly how you feel.” 

He drags himself a bit more upright and lays a warm hand on Peter’s forearm. “I know how it is when your thoughts circle back to the same moment over and over again and the nightmares won’t let you rest. I know how easy it is to isolate yourself because the memories are eating you up and you feel like nobody can help you.”

He pauses for a moment and rubs a hand over his forehead. Peter remembers the darkness on Tony’s face the first time they met and wonders whether that’s what Tony sees on his now. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Tony continues, “you don’t have to pretend to be fine if you’re not. At least not in front of me or May.” 

The irony of it almost makes Peter smile, despite the lump forming in his throat. Tony just spent the last 36 hours trying to downplay the pain he was in. “You are one to talk,” he remarks.

Tony chuckles quietly. “Still learning, kid.” He picks up his tea cup and takes another sip before continuing in a softer voice. “Just trust me, it‘s okay to be a little broken, even when you’re not sick. And you don’t have to hide it. I know what loneliness looks like. I’ve been through all of it and it took me years to understand that the only thing that can help is to let other people in―the right kind of people.”

The thoughts are running a marathon in Peter’s head and he’s dimly aware that he’s trembling. He swallows hard before speaking. “It’s just… sometimes I don’t even want to remember. It’s just so hard to start talking. About”―he takes a deep breath―“the battle. And the dreams. And everything else.”

“Yeah, it is. I never said it would be easy.” Tony seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he pulls Peter toward him one-handedly so that they can lie side by side. He covers both of them with his blanket. Peter turns his head into Tony’s shoulder and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. “And we don’t have to start today. But I’ll be there whenever you’re ready.”

________________

If you liked this, you might also enjoy my other post-Endgame fic (in which Tony is obviously still alive): What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

[dreaming-gamer]

DMC Week day 5: Hurt, Heal, Happiness – Nico & V

This work is lightly tied to my day 2 & 3, but can also be read as a standalone fic. Hope you enjoy!

No warnings, just fluff ahoy, no shipping.

V turned carefully in his bed for what felt like the thousandth time and yet only 10 minutes had passed since he last laid eyes on the clock. This was not a phenomenon he was too familiar with. Pushing forward while having slept too little had been common in his life, but not staying awake when he had the opportunity to sleep.

Shadow was curled up by his feet, a warm lump of fur, he didn’t know how many times his feet had brushed against her every time he needed to move. And yet V couldn’t tell why he felt this need, why he simply couldn’t just fall asleep as he was supposed to. Night reigned outside, cloaking the room in darkness, except for the lamp in the hall that Kyrie always made sure was on, in case any of the boys woke up. The youngest supposedly feared the dark, even asked V to check under his bed for monsters once, instead of Kyrie or Nero. V had checked, assured him it was nothing to be afraid of, when Griffon had chimed in with a helpful “The real monsters are outside!” With the bird banned from the children's bedtime stories from now on, it took about 15 more minutes for the child to calm down. Said bird was currently sprawled out over the other pillow, snoozing soundly.

It surely wasn’t the idea of monsters under the bed that kept V awake, he had been tired throughout the day, but now any sense of heaviness in his eyelids was just gone.

Finally, he gave up, letting out a sigh as he lifted his legs over the edge of the bed. The motions sent a feeling of ache through the bruises decorating his body, but the arm sling kept his arm where it should. It didn’t hurt as badly anymore, the red swelling having died down along with most of the pain, but Kyrie insisted he kept taking pain relievers so he could rest easier. Bless her warm soul, V could see why Nero got along well with her.

Shadow moved as V got up from the bed, leaving her spot to join him. Perhaps a cup of tea or simply a change of room would make him more inclined to sleep in a little while.

“Hihi, fry...” Griffon half snickered in his sleep, his master shaking his head with a smirk. What did a nightmare even dream of? Perhaps he should ask in the morning. His feline familiar and his cane supporting his slow steps, V made his way towards the kitchen.

The lamp on the hallway table lit up just enough for him to not step on one of the toys that the kids always seemed to leave loitering about. Shadow grabbed it in her mouth, moving it to the box of toys with her tail standing up straight up. She enjoyed order, he had learned and keeping an eye on the little ones was her forte, whenever V didn’t need her immediate assistance.

A picture was put up on the hallway wall, of a younger Nero and Kyrie, along with the children even younger than they were now. Kyrie was smiling, Nero looking a tad defiant into the camera, as if he’d dare the photographer to lay a hand on Kyrie or any of the kids. V got the feeling the Nero in the photos were much angrier than the one he knew and that said something. With interest, V’s green eyes continued to take in details, spotting the beginnings of a drawing on the wallpaper behind Kyrie’s white dresser.

There were just signs of a living family everywhere he looked and though V had been reluctant to impose upon them like that, they had still allowed him to stay, while he searched for a home of his own. He envisioned himself having a library, just a quiet space to read between missions because sometimes that was severely lacking in this house, with three lively children.

A kitchen such as Kyrie’s, old but cozy with a small walk-in pantry truly didn’t sound so bad, even though his expertise in the kitchen was certainly nothing to brag about. Kyrie had taken it upon herself to show him some of the basics and V found her teachings much more helpful than the occasional recipes he did try to follow.

As he opened up a cupboard, the smell of tea drifted towards him, a selection of flavors on display, perhaps chamomile would allow him to wind down enough for some sleep. Being limited to only one hand was making itself known now, as he had to do every step one at a time. As he moved to start the electric kettle, setting it in the sink to start the water, he was surprised to hear footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Was he not the only one having trouble sleeping? At first, he suspected one of the children as Kyle had a tendency to wake up during the night and head for Nero and Kyrie’s room, but the footsteps were not light enough.

“Oh-hee, I didn’t take you for the nightsnack kinda guy V.” A cheerful voice suddenly said, followed by a yawn as Nico stepped into the kitchen, dressed in a light top and pajama pants. Her black hair was exceptionally wavy, not put up in a ponytail or held back by the plaited hairband for once. It was unusual to see her like that, but V found it to suit her.

“I would not say that I am.” He admitted with a small smirk. “I was just thinking of having some tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure. Trouble sleeping?” Nico wondered, glancing at what he was doing.

“Yes.” V admitted, some stray water droplets hitting his hand as he turned the faucet on. “You as well?”

“Nah, I’ll probably fall asleep in minutes if I lay down again. After a snack that is. Rice crackers?” She grinned, opening another cupboard and grabbing a colorful plastic package, crackling in her hands. Cheese-flavored was printed on the front.

V gave her a little nod, the electric kettle starting to heat up from the flip of a switch, all they had to do now was wait. Nico pulled out cups for them, setting them on the counter as V leaned himself towards said counter, just for a bit. His muscles ached slightly, but it felt more as if it was because he was stiff from the lack of moving the last week, rather than actual pain.

“Are ya hurtin’?” She wondered, standing beside him. “That’s what’s keeping you from sleeping?”

V wondered if he was seeing concern, behind her red-rimmed glasses.

“No, Kyrie handed me a painkiller before bed. I simply feel as if... I have passed a threshold. Earlier, I was tired but I did not act on it. Right now on the other hand, I should be tired but sleep fails to claim me.”

“Whatcha talking about, can happen to anyone really.” Nico pointed out, her hand slipping to where her belt used to be but stopped when she realized no cigarette was available.

V hummed in thought.

“I admit it to be a new experience. I don’t mind the quiet of the night, but I know I should sleep…”

“Maybe ya just need a hug?” Nico said, tone teasing yet sincere. So sincere in fact that V was unsure of what to answer, straight away. Was that… alright to ask for? He had so little experience with human contact of that kind, yet he could not deny an interest in it.

A laugh slipped out of Nico when he realized his answer was overdue, his gaze upon her probably showing more of his inner thoughts than he meant for it to.

But her laughter wasn’t ill willed, in fact there was just a tone of mirth to it that he had come to associate with Nico.

“It’s not rocket science, come here!”

And then, her arms were around him. Just like that. Warm, careful because of his injured arm but oh so… soothing nonetheless. V carefully maneuvered his other arm over her back, holding on. It felt like she didn’t mind and he liked to return the favor. The sense of warmth, spreading in his chest. Her hair smelled lightly of shampoo with a spicy scent along with just a trace of tobacco and oil.

“Feels nice huh?” She said against him, V didn’t need to see her face to know that she was grinning, her jolly tone said it all.

“Yes. It does.” He spoke softly, holding on for just a little longer. The ache and pain he had faced this time felt so minor, compared to the terrifying feeling of falling apart. And yet this gesture felt like it soothed so much of it. Like the balm Kyrie had helped administer over the healing cracks in his skin, just on a deeper level.

“Thank you… Nico.” A soft vibrating feeling as she let out a light laugh under his hand.

“Anytime, ya hear?” Bubbles assaulted the inside of the electric kettle for a second, until the device shut itself off. “Let’s get that tea ready, we’re moving to the living room.” The mechanic added as she slowly let him go.

“We are…?” V asked, puzzled.

“Yep, I’m gonna show ya a little somethin’.” She told him, grinning from ear to ear. V knew not what she could possibly mean, but the fact that she was willing to spend some more time with him, in the middle of the night when she really could go and sleep some more was very thoughtful. To the point where he didn’t want to ask it of her, but Nico was already moving. She poured hot water into their cups and added the teabags, passing the rice cracker package to V and grabbing the cups herself, leading the way to the living room. V slowly followed, making sure to have his cane make as little noise as possible as he stepped through the hall. Shadow walked beside him, quiet but approving of the fact that Nico had chosen a cup with a black cat on it for V.

Gleaming moonlight touched the wooden surface of the living room table as Nico put down their cups and moved on, crouching by the TV. With a quizzical look, V followed her movements.

“Are you suggesting we watch… TV at this hour?” He asked, puzzled by the idea. Would not the noise wake the rest of the household?

“Uh huh, a Disney movie might just do ya good. Pinocchio sound okay?” Nico looked up, the grin on her face barely visible from the mere amount of light the moon granted them.

“I don’t recognize the title.” He answered truthfully, setting the package on the living room table.

“But ya know Disney?”

“Only that the children seem to enjoy those movies.”

“Hoo boy V, we’ve got something to catch up on here then, whenever ya can’t sleep. Go on, sit!” Nico half ordered him.

Thinking it was probably just for the best to play along for now, V lowered himself onto the couch, moving a toy figure of a… turtle on two legs(?) from one of the cushions, lest he would sit on it.

“Will this not wake the others up?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep the sound low!” Nico assured, the TV flaring to life with the push of a button and she came back to the couch, nestling herself down beside him, on his good side and grabbing for the quilts. The warm quilt that Kyrie always used was suddenly put over V, while Nico spread a yellow one over herself, while the movie was starting itself up.

This was certainly not a situation V had imagined himself ending up in, when he had found himself unable to sleep…

“If yer not gonna sleep anyway, might as well do something productive!” Nico stated, tearing a hole in the noisy rice cracker package and offered him a bite.

“Productive might not be the word I would use.” V admitted, but he nevertheless took a cracker.

“Relaxing then. Enjoy yer first look at kids movie history.” Nico said.

And enjoy it V did, sitting alongside a friend in the middle of the night, watching the story of a puppet who wished to be a real boy unfold, between sips of tea and one or two salty crackers and Nico’s commentary. Shadow laid at their feet, keeping them warm.

Slowly, oh so slowly the colorful pictures let his brain relax itself, the narrative turning no less interesting, but the cozy quilt, company and relaxation creeping up on him. Nico’s head rested against his shoulder, a comfortable, anchoring weight. Eyelids finally feeling heavy, V let his head dip, slowly against hers, the sounds of an old animated movie guiding the last of his conscious to a soft sleep.

What awaited Nero and Kyrie when they woke up the next morning was the words of the youngest orphan, being sad he hadn’t been invited to movie night, as well as the sleeping figures of Nico and V, resting against each other and the TV showing the loop of the movie's main menu since hours ago.

[badass-women-league]

TIVALI

PART 26 - Annoyingly charming

Ziva walked out of the building and to the table to join the rest of the team. Ellie waved at her as she saw her coming closer. She was sitting on the picnic table. Ziva waved back at her and noticed Tony and Nick, sat at another table. They were facing each other. McGee was standing next to them with his watch in hand. Ziva sat next to Ellie and gave her the food she had ordered. Ellie thanked Ziva. Ziva asked: ⠀

-“what are they doing ?”⠀

-“brain freezing…”⠀

-“oh my god…again ? ⠀

-”Yes.. again. Nick claimed that the last time Tony’s drink was not as cold as his and the results were skewed”⠀

-”When are they going to stop their stupid contest ?”⠀

-“when one of them will be designated as the best of all Gibbs’ agents” ⠀

-“How is this even relevant ?” Ziva sighed “who is winning ?” ⠀

-“Tony won the ‘paper ball basketball’ and the ‘pizza speed eating’ and Nick won the ‘paper plane challenge’. McGee is trying to determine who has the most resistant brain”⠀

Ziva rolled her eyes and bitterly said: ⠀

-“They have no brain!”. ⠀

Ellie asked: ⠀

-“how did you manage to work with two men for so many years ?”⠀

-“men ? I was working with two teenagers. One with raging hormones and the other one was playing ‘elf lord’ online” ⠀

-“did I ever tell you that I really admire you” ⠀

-“several times yes” ⠀

They both laughed while Tony and Nick were moaning and holding their heads to soothe the pain of their frozen brains. ⠀

Tony was awakened by the sound of someone searching through the drawers in the kitchen. He grumbled and grabbed his pillow to cover his ears. This was supposed to be his sleep-in morning. This thought made him realize that the house was supposed to be empty. Ziva was gone with the kids for a couple of hours. If Ziva was gone with the kids.. then who was turning his kitchen upside down ? He jumped from the bed and walked to the window to check the cars. Ziva’s car was gone and his was still there. He slowly walked to the wardrobe and grabbed an iron box. He unlocked it and grabbed his old gun. He loaded it as he walked down the stairs with only his boxers to cover his body. He made sure to be as quiet as possible. He stopped behind the wall and peaked inside the room. He couldn't see anything as the intruder was kneeling behind the countertop. Tony rushed inside and raised his gun in the intruder’s direction: ⠀

-“FREEZE ! HANDS IN THE AIR ! NO SUDDEN MOVES” ⠀

Tony’s jaw dropped as he saw a woman, probably in her sixties, stood up in front of him. She frowned at him and started to shout in a language that Tony didn’t understand. He did not understand it yes.. but he knew it. She was shouting in Hebrew and she was obviously very upset. She threw a pan lid at him, then a spatula. Tony lowered his gun and apologized: ⠀

-“wait… stop…” ⠀

She kept shouting incomprehensible things.⠀

Tony dodged a ladle and said: ⠀

-“please we can work this out ok. I am Ziva’s husband, this is my house”⠀

As he dodged another kitchen utensil, he heard the front door unlock. He thought ‘Thank god Ziva is back’. ⠀

As Ziva walked in with the kids and her arms full of grocery bags, she froze when she saw the scene in the kitchen. Her eyes stopped on Tony’s gun. She dropped her bags on the floor and rushed to the still shocked woman: ⠀

-“Oh my god Tony what did you do !”⠀

-“nothing ! I woke up and someone I didn’t know was in my kitchen” ⠀

Ziva hugged the woman and after saying a few words in hebrew she turned back to Tony:⠀

-“I left you a message on your phone”⠀

-“I thought someone was trying to rob us, I didn’t check my phone” ⠀

-“This is Nettie.. my aunt, Tony !”⠀

-“Yes ! Thank you ! I figured it out when she started throwing things at me while she was insulting me in hebrew...I thought she was supposed to arrive this weekend” ⠀

Ziva sighed:⠀

-“Nettie surprised us this morning by arriving early to have more time with the kids. You know what.. I am sorry. This is my fault, I should have told you before leaving. I didn’t want to wake you up.” ⠀

She turned to her aunt and explained the big misunderstanding. The two women talked for a minute and laughed. Tony who was still standing in the middle of the kitchen in his boxer said: ⠀

-“you’re mocking me right ? I can understand that you know” ⠀

Ziva walked to him and landed a sweet kiss on his lips: ⠀

-“actually no, my love. Nettie was telling me that she thinks you are a pretty handsome man and that even though this is a pretty weird first encounter she thinks you are a very brave man” ⠀

Tony said:⠀

-“I love her already..” ⠀

Nettie winked at Tony. He awkwardly smiled and suddenly felt like running upstairs to put on some more appropriate clothes. ⠀

It was good to be reunited with her aunt. The last member of her former life. Ziva, Nettie and Tali had spent the entire afternoon cooking food from Ziva’s native land. For Tony’s greatest happiness. His stomach was full. Nettie looked at Ziva and said something in Hebrew that made her laugh. As she saw Tony’s confused face, she explained:

-”She said: ‘The way to a man's heart is through his stomach’, this is something my grandmother used to say”

He stood up to gather some dirty plates from the table and said:

-”your grandmother was a wise woman”

-”we all are..” and she smirked at him.

Nettie had brought some gifts for the kids and some old pictures in her luggage for Ziva. Ziva was looking at some when Tony passed behind her and as he looked at the picture he said:

-”Is that you ?”

He pointed at a toddler in a woman’s arms. Ziva said with a proud smile:

-”yes, it’s me and my mother..”

-”wow she was a beauty”

Ziva chuckled:

-”Flattery would not have gotten you anywhere with her. She was the real mama bear. She raised 2 kids in a conflicted country and an absent husband and never once complained about it. She was a real force of nature. I’ve never seen her cry or show any sign of weakness and she would have had thousands of reasons to lose it”

Tony sat back and said:

-”I wish I could have met her”

-”she would have loved you”

-”you think ?”

-”yes.. Well, maybe not at first. My mother was always very distrustful at first, even more when it came to her children. You had to earn her trust and it was nothing like shooting fish in a tank”

-”reminds me of someone.. ”

Ziva smiled. Tony added:

-“it’s a barrel by the way..”

She looked confused:

-”What ?”

Tony smiled at her wife stubbornness to use american idioms and said:

-”nevermind”

Ziva continued:

-”but then she would have seen you with the kids and she would have loved you like her own child”

A particular picture drew her attention. She picked it from the pile and said:

-”oh my god. I did not remember I gave this to Nettie”

Ziva looked at the picture and said to Tony: ⠀

-”I thought those pictures were all gone in the fire”⠀

She gave the picture to Tony. He took it and recognize instantly what was on this picture. Tony asked: ⠀

-”How far along were you ?”⠀

-”3 months I think” ⠀

Tony could not get his eyes off the picture. A little smile appeared on his lips. A pride smile mixed with some regrets. He said:⠀

-”Tali come here”⠀

The little girl ran to her father and sat on his lap. Tony said:⠀

-”I’m gonna show you something. You remember when we showed you that picture of Adam, when he was still in Ima’s belly ? Well this, my dear, is the first picture of you” ⠀

He showed the picture to Tali and the little girl chuckled: ⠀

-”no it’s not” ⠀

She first thought that her father was messing with her. Tony continue:⠀

-”yes it is. You were still in Ima’s belly and you were not bigger than this.” He used his fingers to show her how little she was at that time. “Look you are here” ⠀

He pointed at the fetus on the ultrasound. Tali grabbed the picture and looked at it with rapt attention. She was holding it very close to her eyes. She asked:⠀

-“this is me ?”⠀

-“yes! My little girl, not bigger than a peach and now look at you. My baby is in 3rd grade” ⠀

Tony tickled Tali’s side. She laughed and said:⠀

-”Yes ! I’m a big girl now” ⠀

Tony chuckled:⠀

-”Hold on Wendy ! You are not in Neverland yet. Until I say so, you are still be my little girl who needs her dad to push her on the swing, who still gets mad when she has to wear a band-aids, who…”⠀

Tali shushed her dad by putting her hands on his mouth to stop him. Tony laughed and kissed his child on her forehead. He will always have this particular relationship with her. A relationship acquired through the difficult times of being a single father. She had showed him the right way. She made him feel complete even though one half of him was gone for an indefinite period. He discovered through her, what it felt like to be someone’s everything. It had been scary but such a cathartic experience. ⠀

Ziva was in the kitchen. She was preparing dinner. Adam, who was now 18 months old was running around. Ziva was keeping an eye on him while she was cooking. He was seeking Ziva’s attention, sitting in the middle of his mother’s path, touching forbidden stuff and climbing furniture. She said: ⠀

-”Adam sweetheart, Ima is busy here. Go see Aba. I am sure he is doing something fun with your sister.”⠀

Adam shook his head and said:⠀

-”nah!” ⠀

He was still in his ‘Ima only phase’ and unfortunately he was as stubborn as his mother. Adam was looking for every way that could get his mother’s attention until he grabbed the table runner on the dining room table. Ziva saw him and said: ⠀

-”Adam don’t”⠀

He pulled it. ⠀

-”Adam. Don’t make me come over !” ⠀

He pulled it once more and Ziva saw the vase on it swaying. Ziva sighed and walked to him. She frowned and said: ⠀

-”Adam Jethro DiNozzo !” ⠀

In the living room, Tony and Tali were watching a movie when Tony heard his wife calling his son. He looked at Tali and asked:⠀

-”Did she just called him by his full name ?”⠀

Tali nodded. Tony winced and said: ⠀

-”He must be in a lot of trouble then” ⠀

He stood up and walked to the kitchen. As he entered he saw his son, sitting on the floor looking at his mother with the most charming smile on his face. Ziva said:⠀

-”Don’t ! Stop using your father’s smile against me ! It’s not working anymore” ⠀

Tony chuckled, grabbed his son and said: ⠀

-”She is lying. It’s working. Admit it Sweetcheeks, there is nothing you can do about it” ⠀

Ziva was in a terrible position. She was facing her husband and son, both smiling in the most charming way. She was disarmed. She gave her husband a gentle slap on his buttocks and said: ⠀

-”get out of my kitchen, both of you, before I decide to ground you both !” ⠀

Tony smirked and, before leaving the room, said to his son:⠀

-”come on buddy, let’s go somewhere else where people appreciate The DiNozzo charm to their true value”⠀

[purplesurveys]

984

Have you ever tried Turkish Delight? No. I’ve looked up photos of it before and it has genuinely never looked appealing; sorry to those who are delighted (heh heh) by them :/ I’m willing to try it if I ever get the chance, but I really doubt that I’ll enjoy.

Do you have a Vietnamese restaurant in your town or city? They’re a lot less common than other Asian restaurants, but I think we do have a fair share, yeah. The most common are banh mi joints. I think the reason why they aren’t super popular in my country is that Vietnamese dishes tend to be veggie-heavy - at least that’s the impression of most people here - and with Filipinos loving rice and meat in everything they eat, other cuisines simply end up being more popular, like Thai and Chinese.

Do you or have you ever owned a portable gaming console? Yes; we had a couple of PSPs and a DSi as kids. These days, we have a Switch.

Have you ever been in a car with a sunroof? Yeah the Vitara has one. It’s my favorite trick to pull off whenever a friend is riding with me in it for the first time, haha. Everyone always gets so excited about it.

Do you have to have an occasion to eat out or do you just do it for fun? Back in college I allotted a certain portion of my weekly allowance to be able to eat out once or twice a week. Food is the way to my heart and happiness and it just felt good to have nice food, man. I didn’t want to have to wait for occasions to be able to eat at my favorite restaurants.

Have you opened a letter today? No, I haven’t.

How far away is the closest cinema from your house? It’s around a 10-15 minute drive.

Have you ever been to the emergency room? Nope.

Are you one of those people who can’t go without their morning coffee? I wasn’t for a very long time, but it’s starting to become that way now that I’ve started having a regular 9-6 shift. I find that I’m way crankier and am prone to crying from anxiety if I don’t make myself a cup of coffee. When I do, I feel super productive and more motivated to do work.

Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? Twice. Once for junior prom and the next was for my college grad photo shoot.

Do you know the story of how your parents met? If so, tell me? They both started out as part of the kitchen crew in a luxury hotel in the city, my mom as a waitress and my dad as a cook. My mom started pursuing my dad when she discovered what school he came from lol because priorities, I guess.

What is your favorite Chinese food? Minced pork with eggplants is a huge favorite of mine. Xiao long bao and pork buns (steamed or baked) are also suuuuuper good.

Would you ever work at a movie theater? Probably not at this point in my life. It would’ve been a nice gig during college.

Do you have a phone charger in your car? Yessir. I need one since I constantly use Waze to get to anywhere for both directions and traffic updates, and the LTE I need for that drains my battery.

Do you live far from your parents? No, they’re like 10 steps away, in another room.

Have you ever submitted a video to Funniest Home Videos? Nope. I always loved the videos though and the show made up a big part of my childhood.

Have you ever been attracted to an authority figure? I’ve found several teachers attractive before, yeah. The biggest crush I had was on my biology teacher...I think everyone else had a crush on her too lol, she was the personification of beauty and brains.

Do you think you have a wide vocabulary? I mean I guess I know more words than most people my age...but I also feel that my vocabulary still would’ve been a lot wider if I just continued to read well into my teenage years and now as a young adult.

What was the last hot food you ate? Lumpia.

Have you ever seen a meteor shower? I don’t think so.

Describe your current position: I’m sitting up on my bed, laptop on my lap, right leg outstretched with my left leg tucked underneath it.

Have you used a microwave today? It’s only 5:01 AM, so I haven’t. We’ll see about today.

What was the last electronic device you purchased? I don’t really buy electronics. I’m more likely to buy accessories for the stuff I already have, and the last one I got was a new case for my phone.

Have you ever slept through an alarm? I think so; only a few times though. I wake up from them easily.

Do you have any celebrity crushes? Kristen Stewart and Kate Winslet are where it’s at for me, y’all.

Do you prefer going out for coffee or brewing your own? I can go either way. Coffee is coffee. I don’t mind making my own for convenience, or paying a few hundred bucks for a little more quality coffee.

Have you consumed caffeine today? If so, in what form? Yeah I have a cup of 3-in-1 barako coffee beside me. I actually made this cup at like, 7 PM last night...then I fell asleep for a bit, woke up at midnight, fucked around for a few hours and now I’m back to drinking it at 5 AM, ha.

Do you have lactose intolerance or know anyone who does? I have a mild case of it. It’s not a complete disaster for me to eat cheese or consume milk, and I wouldn’t say that my trips to the bathroom afterwards are emergencies. My body has for the most part been nice to me, hahaha.

Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? Not to my knowledge, no.

Have you killed a bug this week? Probably.

What was the first food you learned how to cook? I followed a recipe for onion rings a few months ago and that was super fun, but I haven’t followed that up yet so I dunno if it’s right to say I ‘learned’ it. 

Do you have a Bachelor’s degree? If so, what in? Journalism.

How many email accounts do you have? Four, but honestly I barely use the Outlook one anymore. I have three main email addresses on Gmail.

Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? My parents come with me because they take care of the finances and insurance that go with things like that.

Have you ever made your own pasta noodles from scratch? Hmm, I don’t think so.

How long is your average shower? 5-10 minutes.

How close is the nearest park from your house? We don’t have any public parks because my country sucks, but my village has a few small parks that residents can flock to and walk their dogs in or bring their kids to play in or whatever. The nearest one is a 10-15 minute walk or a 2-minute drive away, depending on how you prefer to get there. Which household chore do you hate the most? Cleaning up dog pee.

Have you ever been to an all-you-can-eat buffet? So many times. They’re very common here and there are a lot of restaurants that solely have a buffet gimmick. Sambo Kojin was my favorite, and I’m really hoping their business wasn’t affected by this stupid virus.

Can you see out any windows from where you are? Yup.

Do you like pineapple on pizza? No, but I also don’t like pineapples and all other fruits.

What color is your soap? Green or white. I don’t really pay attention.

Is anything bothering you right now? Just about all the time, yes.

When’s the last time you had a headache? Sometime this week or last week.

What woke you up this morning? I woke up naturally as I normally do these days.

Are you planning to go see a movie anytime soon? Yeah my workmates have been watching American Murder on Netflix and all of them so far are raving about it, so I want to give that a shot soon.

Will you sleep alone tonight? I always sleep alone. 

How do you feel right now? Confused at my lack of drowsiness and a little sad but it’s manageable for now.

Is shyness cute? I don’t feel any particular way towards it. I suppose it can be endearing and it can also be annoying.

Will you be up before 7:00 a.m. tomorrow? I already am.

What are your plans for tonight? Maybe keep doing surveys or send in my online interview that a company I’m applying to asked me to accomplish. I didn’t even know do-it-on-your-own-time interviews were a thing; it’s super convenient and removes my anxiety of being interviewed in real time by strangers.

Would you rather write in pink pen or blue pen? Blue.

Have you ever kissed the last person you text messaged? Yes.

Who was the last person you cried in front of? Just myself. Haven’t cried in front of anyone in a while.

Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? Yep.

Have you smoked a cigarette in the past 24 hours? No, but could definitely use one.

Were you happy when you woke up today? Nah I woke up crying I think. It was one of the more difficult mornings.

Are you the youngest sibling? I’m the eldest.  

[datboyyeet]

The revenge of a human

MURDER HARASSMENT MUTILATION TORTURE SPOILER; maybe things could have been so different but it was surely a stroke of fate, such a cruel fate. Ever since Mc arrived at the Devildom he had been living through hell, sorry for the bad puns. Diavolo had assured him that nothing would happen to him, what a sweet irony. First, he was assigned a greedy demon who spent his time reminding him that he was just a futile human, then he nearly got himself killed by Levi, all for a silly contest. Mc had not slept that evening, a fear in his stomach. When he was at RAD he felt as brave as a rat, even a rat was more valuable than him. Mc, unlike Solomon, had no power and was human, no defense. He was laughed at, they insulted him, jostled him, certain demons scattered their things. Mc had tried to talk to Lucifer about it but Lucifer told him not to pay attention to such minor details. Hell, even Simeon and Luke weren't so bothered, they had powers as angels but MC? With no power? Nah, no peace. At first MC could support him, it wasn't enough to make him mentally crack. RAD's homework was more complicated than MC thought, and no matter how much Satan spent hours helping him study, MC's grades were really ... low. Diavolo even tried to help but nothing helped. Lucifer was giving lectures saying that he was wasting everyone's time, that Diavolo tried to lower the academic difficulty for a miserable human. That evening, MC spent the night revising, the pages spotted with tears, it was the same for the nights to come. He would stop sleeping, hoping to improve his mediocrity. To succeed, he panted with each drowsiness a cutter on his bare thigh, keeping him awake. When this system was no longer working, he stole a book from Solomon, then using a potion that replaced sleep and those just delusional. He felt like he had slept, but he didn't. No one noticed his fatigue, when Satan noticed it, Mc got away by saying that he had simply played on his DDD too late, then being argued by Lucifer. When Lucifer attempted to kill Luke, which MC stepped in, determined to save Luke and Beel and Lucifer took on MC, it was the first tear. He had woken up from his confrontation in complete panic, still feeling Lucifer's blow in his ribs. Sweatily, he made a decision by making the pact with Beel; he was going to earn Lucifer's respect ... For that, he was going to help Belphegor. If only it could have been that easy. The following days, the following weeks, were alike. RAD demons seemed to increase their mockery, MC got words telling him to hang himself, demons were hitting them in the ribs. Simeon had suspected that something was wrong, he tried to talk about it with MC but the human being was good at lying, keeping their harassment to themselves. MC tried not to think about it, which worked fine, his grades were going up, there was hope. This hope was shattered .... When Belphegor grabbed his throat, MC was terrified. He realized his human naivety, his weakness. The pain was so great, her cry was lost in the air as her head rolled down the stairs, now detached from her body. To be honest, he would have preferred to rest there in the light, he felt good but Lillith didn't hear him that way, did he? He was torn from paradise to return to Hell. Except this time he didn't think he was going to be able to overcome it. When he woke up, he was sprawled on the stairs, suffocating, swimming in his own blood. This sight never left his mind. Raising his hand to his blow, he still felt the pain, the death, his death. Glancing at the brothers, he told himself he had to be strong. Second tear. When everything was explained, Belphegor had been calmer, the brothers less demanding because MC was the descendant of Lillith, or had they on the contrary become more demanding? Whatever MC did, nothing was perfect, he was Lillith's descendant, HE HAD TO BE PERFECT. These thoughts were muddled and yet MC didn't want to believe it, the brothers loved him because he was him ... right? After his murder, when MC could sleep again, he was unable to. He would wake up screaming, seeing his murder on repeat. The demon brothers were laughing at him, Belphegor stood still, MC couldn't just forgive him? MC was doing too much. MC was a crybaby. MC was looking for attention. Lillith would have been indulgent. That everyone made mistakes and that they had to be forgiven. Third tear.It was the descent into hell for MC, or else this descent had already started since their arrival. He was no longer sleeping, starting his potions again, his notes were relapsing, Lucifer assailed him about it, he only ate to vomit behind. When he went to RAD, he got hit, the harassment skyrocketed, he came back with a broken arm. He was trying to hide all of them, to be strong and even with the seven strongest demons by his side, he didn't feel safe, he never was. IT WAS NOTHING. A HUMAN VULGAR UNABLE TO DEFRENDER. He was nothing. nothing. nothing. nothing. nothing. The silver blade of the knife drew red lines all over his body and even increasing the depth, increasing his features, MC still felt hurt in the heart ... Everyone around him was drowning him, MC was dying slowly. He wore a smiling mask all the time, during Lucifer's arguments, the brothers' general criticisms, his comparison to Lillith, to her stalkers ... to his tormentors .... And in the evening, he would start his blood dance all over again. . When that wasn't enough, he started to swallow ink, vomit the ink and he started to laugh, he was so pathetic. One night it broke down. It was the day too long, he was now empty of all emotions. After a day in hell, he rather got up from the meal, saying he was no longer hungry and went to sleep, sleeping only 3 hours but it was the most restful 3 hours of his life. He woke up, smiling broadly. In the greatest discretion, he took a bag, which he put on his chair, he took snacks that he had stolen the day before, he took ink, a work of Satan, another of Solomon, then taking his knife and jewelry from Mammon and Asmo, which he had also stolen. He put it all in the bag, not bothering to take off his shoes. It was in the deepest of calm that MC left the mansion. Once outside he began to run as fast as he could, once far enough he put a hand to his pact marks and ordered "DON'T FOLLOW ME! BE UNABLE TO FIND ME". The marks shone and in that moment the brothers all felt their marks beating like a heart. They tried to find MC but they were unable to, the pact prevented them from being able to find and follow her. Alert, Lucifer called Diavolo.MC was looking for a witch. He had learned that a witch could grant any wish, as long as it could be paid and very often, these wishes were black with vengeance, to the point that Diavolo had to considerably limit these practices, to see them brought to justice. This witch would help MC become what everyone wanted, MC would finally become perfect. The road was long, he took 3 days to get there, eating only ink. During this time, Diavolo tried the impossible to find him but MC was far enough and besides, he had arrived in front of the house of the witch. He was knocking, almost laughing. The witch was staring at the weak human in front of her but this human was strange, he was pale, his mouth black ink, smiling almost inhuman:"Make me perfect," he said.- Lose your humanity, she replied.He accepted. He gave her all his possessions, to pay the witch decently. The latter then took him to his cellar, undressing him, placing him in the center of a pentagram, handcuffing him, on his knees, to the five ends of the pentagram. She lit five candles one by one, picking up an old dusty grimoire. A strange dragon-headed knife was in his hands. She began to whisper recitals, the air would change, which did not seem to bother her. Walking slowly around MC, she continued to recite, only to plunge her blade into MC's back. The latter bit his lip. The witch lowered her blade and slashed a second slash, as if an angel's wings had been ripped off. With her blade, she made several cuts on MC's body, including several symbols. She continued her recitals. She took a bowl of ink, which she spilled on Mc, the ink seeped into the wounds, making him cringe. The witch began to scream her recitals. The pentagram lit up, black flames burst out, to devour MC's body. The latter was in pain, he felt something change in him, something was pushing from his back. He let out a howl of pain, so intense that even the brothers felt it. Each of their sides, as they tried to find MC, they felt their torn apart. Their hearts were pounding, the place where their wings made them suffer excruciatingly.A few days later, when they were at a standstill, Diavolo invited them to the castle, saying that MC was coming, that demons knew why MC had disappeared. The brothers were tired when they arrived at the castle. Mammon felt the worst. The meeting point was the ballroom, with its stage, its piano. There were a lot of people, Lucifer then asked Diavolo for explanations, why RAD students were here? Diavolo shrugged, saying that MC had said do this for everyone to know about his disappearance and to invite those specific demons. Then the lights went out one by one. The stage curtains were closed and the sound of a piano was heard, someone was playing. A voice arose, Mc. At that precise moment, the curtains opened to reveal a transforming MC. MC had medium black hair, black eyes, a classy black suit, a white shirt with a small black sleeveless jacket and black pants ..... and horns with angel wings ?! looked weird but his skin was as white as snow, he was literally black and white: - Strong, strong, long ago, a young human was so pure,  He was so pure, a lovely Angel.  But then we took him to hell!  And he was broken ...  But now honey, I'm in the spotlight. Jazz music was heard. The curtain closed on MC. Music flooded the hall. No one understood what was going on, everyone was shocked to see MC like that .... had he become a demon? The curtain reopened on MC dancing, the music continued, a microphone in front of him: - One two Three  I'm a demon from heaven  Oh look, looks like Henry is on a date, MC sang, stroking Levi's hair. He had magically appeared next to him, making him jump, then MC had magically found the scene.  Oh let's have a little fun! The smile that Mc displayed was confident, with a sadistic confidence, the Brothers could not move, stunned. MC was a demon. As MC sang, outside, backstage, something was going on that even Barbatos couldn't predict: - We have dirty little bitches in heat,  Come with me on this cozy cloud, MC was pointing Asmo this time. To be a perfect angel, you sometimes have to make small sins, MC sang in Simeon's ear. The angel was trying to catch MC but MC was already on stage again.Lucifer not wanting this masquerade anymore, tried to catch it but MC appeared on a divant, in a dramatic pose, still smiling, completely proud of his show: - You always tell me what to do and what not to do,  I couldn't escape this hell, Unable to stand in front of you, This time Mc found himself next to Lucifer before returning to a second divant. You called me weak, human, As it hurt me, MC then pointed to Mammon completely satisfied with the lost gaze of the avatar of greed. Demon women, in the same guise as MC appeared on stage, singing "Palalpala Pala pala pulila papa". MC appeared on stage again walking, twirling a cane: - But it's all over, I will show you, Open your eyes, Because now I take control! I'm on stage You can't cage me anymore You no longer control anything! Focus on me! All eyes are on me!Dancing, the curtain closed again, the women appeared on the couches, continuing to sing. The music was in full swing. Everyone understood their reason here, no matter how MC got in or changed, MC wasn't there just to sing along. Out of sight, something flowed in the shadows, surrounding the castle. MC appeared on stage, this time ink was flowing from his eyes but he continued to smile and disappeared again. Ink was dripping from the ceiling forming a puddle: - So many tries, So many mistakes  For your satisfaction,  I spent many sleepless nights  In the hope of satisfying you,  To him looked like, be perfect! MC emerged from the ink, the face ... ink was streaming from his eyes, still dancing, smiling: - But I finally found the way To be perfect !!!It was awful to see, ink was dripping from his white body. Luke was pulling back, scare, how is that possible ???? - I swallowed so much ink,  I devoured so many books, A witch helped me achieve the perfect shape!  I am close to perfection! I'm like you now An unfeeling and perfect heartless demon, A being made of ink He appeared in random places, ink streaming from him, his face. When he appeared next to someone, it screamed, we tried to catch him but only ink was what they could catch. MC appeared on the table, a glass of ink in his hand: - You told me to forget my own murder,  You said to forgive,  You selfishly wanted your sister!  You ordered me what to do,  Even though I was traumatized! , MC threw the contents of his glass at Beel, disappearing onto a couch.  You told me that I was not good enough  That I only wanted attention while I was in tears !, MC Pointed at Satan and ink flowed over him, the latter tried to catch MC but the demon made of ink appeared on the chandelier. - MCCCCCC !!!!!! Screamed the seven brothers and Diavolo - You, You took my future without hesitation! All this for a vulgar story of revenge! But all that will change Dirty murderer, MC looked at Belphegor with a big smile. Focus on me! As Mc's face returned to normal, ink was flowing again. Everyone tried to run away, out, standing on his stage, MC snapped his fingers and the doors closed. Ink blocked all the entrances, impossible to exit, no escape. Luke was crying, supported by Simeon. Solomon tried all the spells they knew with Satan, but that was a new power. The other brothers tried with Diavolo and Barbatos to attack MC but their attacks did not hit him, he disappeared even before the attack was launched. MC's face was normal again: - Oh no no! Don't run away! There is no escape!  I would be all they wanted! Now look at me all! All eyes are on me. MC was dancing, as ink slowly dripped from the ceiling and quickly everyone was up to their ankles. Outside, eruptions of ink were erupting. MC wanted to make them suffer, to drown them as he drowned. Then all of them turned black. The music had stopped. On the stage, a light illuminated Belphegor, attached to a chain by anti demon chains. He was struggling but the chains hurt him. A black shape appeared behind him. Ink flowed from MC, not a single piece of skin was spared. The ancient human put his hands on Belphie's shoulders, using his ink to immobilize him and slowly he put his hands up to the neck of the demon: - I suffered so much through your fault, You were the last straw Are you destroying me and asking me to stop being afraid? To be traumatized? WHEN I woke up every night to the feeling of your hands squeezing my neck? I will show you, I will make you suffer! MC squeezed his hands, choking Belphie. It was with such force that Belphie believed his head was going to come off his body if MC hadn't shoved his chair, hiding him on the ground. Beel tried to save his brother, all the brothers in the form of demons, unfortunately the ink covered every part of their body, leaving them only the head. The other demons were drowned in ink, dying in turn. Solomon also saw himself attached to Simeon. MC had gone mad. He put his hands around Belphie's neck again:- The memories you left me made me ...  You are driving me so crazy!  I will destroy them all!And Belphegor's head came off his body, accompanied by the cries of demons.

[smarchit]

Do No Harm pt 3

It’s here folks!!! So sorry for the delay - it’s been sitting in my drafts for so long. But I’m sick of looking at it and sick of that guilt of not posting eating away at me. Here you go my loves!

Nearly two months had passed since Din had taken Wynn aboard following the Imps' ransack of her village. It sometimes still didn't feel real to her, if she were being completely honest. She was afraid that she would wake up in a prison cell for harboring a fugitive and all this would have been a dream.

Wynn had taken to caring for the Child like he was her own, and she loved him dearly. She sang to him, fed him, chased him around all day, and tucked him into bed at night while Din collected bounties and brought credits for food back with him. 

It was a sort of mutual agreement the pair had come to shortly after she'd come aboard. She didn't mind being alone with the kid. He was a dreadful conversation partner though, but then again, so was his father.

Wynn found herself thinking about him constantly. She worried when he was off on a job, and felt relief wash over her when he would return unharmed. 

Oftentimes, she wanted to just sit him down and talk. About literally anything. He could talk about disassembling his blaster or how to properly gut a Tuan-Tuan for warmth on some backwater planet. She would hang on every word if that were the case. Wynn wanted to talk about how to successfully deliver a breeched baby, or how to dislodge a foreign object from the windpipe of a choking toddler, just because she wanted to remind herself that she knew how to do it. She just wanted to hear him talk about all the random things he knew how to do. For Maker's sake, she wanted to know all the ways he knew to cheat at Sabbac or all the intricacies of carbonite freezing. As cute as he was, the kid lacked in attentive listening skills and active communication. 

It had been so long since she spoke with another person, like really, actually exchanged words with someone apart from little asides with vendors at a market who may or may not speak basic. 

Mostly, she wanted to talk about what had never been addressed - the Imperial siege of her village, his (dashing) rescue of her, and the fact that she knew his name. His real, honest-to-Maker name. He had never formally introduced himself to her, and everyone who the pair had come into contact with referred to him as simply Mando. So she referred to him as Mando. 

He'd called her Wynnlow every day since he first brought her aboard and Wynn grimaced every time the name passed through the vocoder. She actually began to regret telling him that only her friends called her Wynn. She wanted to be his friend in an almost hopeless way.

Mandalorians do not have friends, Wynnlow. They do not have allies. Only each other.

Both the Child and his caretaker were going on nearly three days of silence at this point. Mando had gone off on a job and discouraged her from going to the market on a not so subtle warning that the planet wasn't particularly safe for someone with no combat training.

Wynn would have been alright with being left alone, provided their food supplies held up. Mando was only supposed to be gone for about a week tops, but left two weeks of food on the Crest, just in case. Unfortunately, the airtight seal on one case had broken, leaving half their food to spoil. So as long as Mando came back in time, they'd be fine. He was very rarely late.

To pass the time, Wynn had been studying the Child. She'd seen all manner of children in her time, assisted both first time and experienced mothers alike to bring new life into the galaxy, but never once had she seen anything like him.

If Wynn's guess was anything to go off of, she pegged the Child as the human equivalent of a 16-18 month old. But then, she figured that was an inaccurate scale to go by. He was most likely developing normally for his species, though Wynn constantly wished she knew his species so she would have more accurate information to compare it to.

For the past several hours, Wynn had been rolling a tiny silver ball the Child brought her across the floor. The baby would totter after it and then bring it back, giggling the whole time.

Suddenly, the whole ship rumbled furiously as the main entrance opened with a grating screech. There was a loud scuffle, then strained grunt followed by what sounded like a curse.

"Get in," Mando growled from below. "You were more trouble than you were worth. 

Wynn heard the carbonite chamber activate as it whirred to life in the cargo bay, trapping yet another bounty in its confines. She did her best to ignore the fire that roared to life in her belly at Mando's grunts and growls as he brought the bounty on board. 

The Child toppled into Wynn's lap, blessedly distracting her, the tiny ball still clutched in his fingers. His massive ears twitched as he heard heavy foot steps coming up the ramp.

Mando stormed past the living quarters where Wynn and the Child were playing. He bypassed the fresher and stomped up the ladder to the cockpit. He sounded in a foul mood. 

"Fine," Wynn sighed dramatically. "I'll go talk to him!" She stood, scooped the baby into her arms, and pressed a sweet kiss to his head before she put him in his pod. He blinked sleepily up at her and cooed as he handed her the silver ball.

Mando was angrily mashing buttons in the cockpit and muttering to himself under his breath. The sound was barely coming through beneath his helmet. He barely acknowledged that Wynn had even joined him. 

"He give you any trouble?" he asked without even looking up from the navigator. 

Wynn put one hand in the pocket of her skirt and shook her head. "Nah, he was fine. Couldn't have been better, really. Not much fun to have a conversation with though."

"He's a good listener," Mando replied. There was the faintest hint of a smile on the edge of his voice.

Wynn couldn't help but smile. It was honestly the first time he had made anything remotely close to a joke since she'd been travelling with him.

"You're not so bad of a listener yourself, you know," she hummed. Wynn crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door, eyes focused on Mando as he prepared for takeoff. 

"Is he asleep?" he asked, glancing up at her. 

She nodded and lowered herself into the copilot seat behind him. "If not now, he will be soon. Tuckered himself out."

Mando nodded once. "He usually does. Except when I want him to go to bed. It's like he knows."

Wynn smiled. The way he spoke of his foundling made him seem almost normal. Like there was a big softie under all that armor after all.

"Kids and babies know when we want them to do something for ourselves," she said with a laugh. "And babies will come when they want. Trust me. I got called into the inn one night a while ago, a traveler and his partner got stranded when their ship was damaged. She went into labor three weeks early. I got called in to help."

"Children like to come at inopportune times," Mando said, reaching for a lever. He sighed and dropped his hand into his lap. 

Wynn chuckled and held up the little silver ball the Child had been playing with. She extended her hand to him with the ball in her fingers.

"I think they come exactly when we need them to. Maybe we just don't know it yet."

Mando stared at her, his gaze hidden behind the visor. He watched her curiously, though perhaps for a moment too long, as she cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention or to break his gaze. Slowly, he reached out to take the tiny ball from her hands. All he wanted was to get them to the next planet together safely. They both knew that they couldn't stay in one place for very long.

Wynn placed the ball in his outstretched hand, slowly, as if she was going to frighten him if she moved too fast. She left her hand in his for a moment, long enough to feel the warmth of his skin beneath soft leather. 

Mando's eyes were locked on where their hands were joined. He felt the weight of her hand in his, the warmth that radiated off of her, a wonderful contrast to the slight chill of the ship's recycled air.

The silence and stillness was broken by the loud wail of the Child from the living quarters.

Wynn glanced over her shoulder and sighed as she let her hand fall to her side. "He might be hungry. I told him we'd eat a while ago."

"He doesn't like to be kept waiting," Mando hummed. He reattached the little silver ball and turned away from her, his shoulders squared off, his spine rigid once more.

Wynn sighed and went to gather the baby from his pod. "I'll bring you food too," she promised, poking her head back into the cockpit.

Mando replied with a grunt and a wave of his hand, too busy with finalizing takeoff to even listen to her words. 

It was as if that hand holding, if it could even be called that, had never happened. Mando was back to his same old sullen self. 

Wynn watched him for a moment to try and see if he relaxed when he thought he was alone. She wouldn't ever dare to spy on him when he was eating or any time she knew his helmet was off. She would never even think of betraying his trust like that. One creed to another. 

The way his hand clenched and unclenched several times against his thigh as he sat in the cockpit, however, did not go unnoticed by the young doctor. It was the same hand she'd placed the ball into and held for maybe just a second too long. She still felt the warmth and softness of his glove against her palm.

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away and went to get the Child to bring him food before he could scream again. 

Once the Child was sleeping soundly in his pod for the night, his belly full from supper, Wynn made her way up to the cockpit.

She found some manuals on anatomy at a marketplace a few weeks prior and Mando had slipped a few credits to the shopkeeper to buy them. She didn't often get time to read when she was at home, and now she had practically all the time in the galaxy. It felt strange, really. 

She stopped just outside the door leading in and knocked loudly to announce to Mando that she was coming in. A second passed, then two, before she heard him mumble a soft, "Come in."

Mando was seated in his chair, watching the stars streak by the window. He turned to her when she entered and he lifted his hand in a small wave.

Wynn paused in the doorway, her gaze locked on the man before her. He was leaned back with his thighs spread almost inviting her in. His hands were behind his head as he lazily turned his head to the side to look at her. She felt her mouth go dry and she swallowed the lump in her throat. 

"Finally gonna learn about the mating processes of Gungan tonight," she said, giving the manual a shake as she entered the cockpit. "I'd rather be doing... anything else."

"Don't torture yourself like that," Mando said, a small chuckle working its way out of his vocoder. 

Wynn smiled and curled herself into the copilot seat. It wasn't often that Mando laughed, but when he did, it always made her feel warm inside, fuzzy and tingly that she'd made someone happy. 

"Where are we going next?" Wynn asked after a few moments of silent reading. At the beginning, she was always nervous that Mando was going to leave her somewhere on some planet alone, with no money and only the clothes on her back. The more she traveled with him, the less anxious she became, but that worry was always there. She doubted it would ever go away, really.

"Back to Nevarro for now," he said. "Gonna turn in these bounties, pick up a few more. Stock up on supplies, head back out."

"Aren't you worried about being tracked down on Nevarro?" She shut the book and held it in her lap, focusing her full attention on him.

Mando shrugged. "Nevarro is a hotbed anyway. Just another face in the crowd there."

"But there's so many Imps there," she replied.

"That's why you're gonna stay on the ship with the kid while I go," he said. He held up a hand when Wynn's eyes widened. "Hang on, let me finish. You'll stay here. If I'm not back by nightfall when we land or you don't hear anything from me in a few hours, you take this ship and leave. Coordinates are in there for a safe destination already. You get there with the kid."

Wynn swallowed down the lump in her throat. She couldn't leave Mando, no matter what.

"You'll be fine," he assured her. "Besides, the possibility of something happening is pretty low. You shouldn't have anything to worry about."

Wynn nodded shakily. "Right."

Mando nodded. "Right."

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Grandmother Spider

True Neutral Goddess of Weaving, Illusions, and Family

Domains: Charm, Community, Darkness, Luck, Trickery Subdomains: Curse, Deception, Family, Fate, Night, Thievery

Faiths of Golarion, pg. 11~15

Obedience: Spend an hour weaving something clever and useful that you will use to better your community, incorporating the stories or symbolism of Grandmother Spider. This can be any sort of “weaving,” such as weaving blankets, clothing, or tapestries, or “weaving” a tall tale, elaborate story, or confidence game that teaches someone a valuable lesson. Benefit: Gain a +2 sacred or profane bonus on Bluff and Perform (oratory) checks and on saving throws against illusions.

Aww, how cute! Spending an hour each day crafting a cute little doodad for for your... ... Wait, your community? Adventurers don’t have a community! Oh no!

Nah, kidding, that’s not too much of an impediment unless your DM is especially pedantic. Just making something useful to drop off at the next civilization you visit, or even just for your party members, will likely count for the purposes of this Obedience. Just make sure that whoever receives your gift actually needs it, because otherwise you’re not only not bettering your community, but you’ll likely look like a loon. Also, the fact you can ‘weave’ some tall tales gives you an excellent in-character excuse to actually write little short stories and vignettes to convey moral lessons and share them with your party. It’s an excellent roleplaying moment and can sharpen your skills as a writer and storyteller!

It also means you’re very hard to disarm. Even bereft of materials or bound by rope and chain you can compose your stories in your head to connect yourself with Grandmother Spider, and it also means keeping yourself hidden from unwanted attention (such as that from Asmodeus and his followers) is pathetically easy. Your physical weaving must bear the Grandmother’s markings, but enemies of your faith can’t exactly see your stories as they’re being composed, unless of course you’re writing them down in-character.

Sadly, this benefit is pretty wimpy. Bluff is nice, and a bonus to saves against any and all illusions is pretty sweet, but this bonus is only half as powerful as benefits typically are. I can appreciate you becoming better at actually telling the stories you’re creating, though! It’s cute!

Boons are gathered slowly, typically obtained when a given character has 12, 16, and 20 hit dice. Unlike fiend-worshipers, servants of the Eldest, and devoted of the Empyreal Lords, characters worshiping Neutral gods do not have catch-all classes… but Neutral-aligned characters can enter the Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes earlier than Evil characters, classing in as early as level 6 (they need +5 BAB, 5 ranks in a single skill, or the ability to cast lvl 3 spells); entered ASAP, one can gain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14.

———-

EVANGELIST

———-

Boon 1: Charming Sort. Gain Sleep 3/day, Eagle’s Splendor 2/day, or Glibness 1/day.

Good news! Entering Evangelist as early as possible means that Sleep is still useful against encounters you may face, knocking out up to 4 HD of enemies in a single cast and keeping them in dreamland for 1 min/level. Bad news! It’ll struggle to remain viable once you’re up another two levels, because at that point, the DM may begin throwing meatier and meatier encounters after you. It’s certainly a good spell to keep as backup, though, at least until you reach into the 11s and 12s and so on, though by that point you likely have more efficient ways to knock foes out of the fight.

Like avoiding one in the first place. Glibness is, one could say, a strong spell. A +20 to Bluff checks to convince someone what you’re saying is true is usually enough to counteract the penalties you’d normally suffer from, and in fact is exactly enough to cancel out the -20 penalty you’d take trying to convince someone of an impossible lie (beware of telling lies that are instantly disprovable, though). With an absolutely endless 10 min/level duration, Glibness will let you lie your way halfway into a dungeon, and not even magic that forces the truth from you is a guarantee since it must first pass a caster level check against a DC 15 + your caster level to do so. 

That being said, I wouldn’t advise trying to use it to, say, convince the local king that you’re the true heir to his throne, because at that point the court wizard (there is always a court wizard) will likely catch on that something’s wrong and club you over the head with Dispel Magic... especially if this is the second time you try doing something like that. Still, though, it’s a spell whose usefulness is difficult to understate or undersell, especially since Grandmother Spider already prompts you to be deceptive. Eagle’s Splendor’s comparatively paltry +2 to your Bluff is basically nothing when compared to it.

And the best part is that, unlike Sleep, it’s useful at every level!

Boon 2: Storyteller: You gain the Bard’s Fascinating Performance class feature and a number of rounds of Bardic Performance per day equal to your Charisma modifier + your Hit Dice. If you already have Fascinating Performance, your HD is considered to be your Bard level for the purpose of your Fascinating Performance’s save DC and your Bardic Performance rounds per day.

AAHHRUM-hum! Stay a while, and listen.

The save DC to avoid becoming Fascinated is 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Charisma modifier, by the way. You also start with ((HD x 2) + 4 + Cha mod) rounds of Performance! For those of you who’ve never played with or against a Bard, this means that you can now hypnotize entire crowds of people at once, provided they can see and hear you (and aren’t immune to mind-affecting effects, natch). While any immediate threat to your listeners’ person breaks the fascination effect, it does mean you’re the unrivaled king/queen/royal of distractions among your party. You can technically walk into a room and immediately capture them in your web, because so long as combat isn’t initiated and your party doesn’t do anything especially suspicious, any enemy that fails the save is transfixed for however long you can maintain the performance.

While the second part of this ability--merging your total HD together to make sure your performance scales even as you multiclass--seems good on paper, it’s entirely redundant due to the Evangelist’s Aligned Class ability, which merges the Prestige Class and your base class together anyway, earning you an amazing net gain of one (1) additional HD and meaning this ability doesn’t really exist. HOWEVER, if you’re NOT going into Evangelist and are instead keeping the Deific Obedience feat while multiclassing into a different combination, the primary benefit here is that it continues to tick your rounds of Bardic Performance up, one of the most important scaling abilities Bards have. Sadly you get no access to the more advanced performances, but that’s the sacrifice you make to serve the Grandmother.

Also, if you’re remaining a pure Bard, this ability indeed does not exist at all. oof.

Boon 3: One With The Night: You gain darkvision with a range of 30 feet, or extend your existing darkvision by 30 feet. You need only half the normal amount of sleep or rest each day to avoid becoming fatigued.

...

really

I don’t want to be nasty to dear Grandmother Spider, but with such an ominously named ability, you’d be lead to believe it grants some form of invisibility or somesuch. Not so; it merely grants you darkvision, something you’ll either have or have easy access to by level 14, and while needing only half as much rest to keep yourself running is nice, it’s severely underpowered compared to most final Boons.

Especially since the rest of your party likely requires their full 8 hours of sleep anyway, so it can be difficult for you to find a way to make use of your extra hours. I suggest taking up crafting, to be honest; you’re doing it anyway, may as well craft magic items too! Especially potions, some of which can be crafted in just 4 hours!

Despite that, though, this is still a disappointing and tragically weak Boon, especially compared with everything else Grandma gives to her followers...

———-

EXALTED

———-

Boon 1: The Weaver: Gain Silent Image 3/day, Minor Image 2/day, or Borrow Fortune 1/day.

I’m not going to comment on Borrow Fortune, as it’s just a plain terrible spell. You can reroll a single d20 at the cost of causing Misfortune (roll twice, take lower) on yourself on every single roll you make for the next two rounds. No thanks!

SIlent and Minor Image both fill a similar niche, one that greatly rewards creative thinking. Their enormous areas of effect (four 10ft cubes + one more cube per level) lets you cause some serious shenanigans. Silent Image alone can be used, among other things, to create fields of statues, walls where there weren’t, the image of several siege engines or monstrous backup soldiers (in case an enemy is viewing you from afar), thorny or hazardous barriers, impossibly deep ‘pits,’ and other such hazards that can make your enemies hesitate to approach you. I especially enjoy the possibility of squeezing your party against a wall and then projecting the image of a wall in front of you to hide from pursuers--it’s an old trick, but an effective and reliable tactic!

Minor Image allows your projections to make noise, meaning “summoning” illusory monsters, fires, machines, or other such things becomes far more viable. Even in combat, an enemy suddenly having some horrifying monster appear in front of them can make them pause when they can’t be sure it’s an illusion. Since spell-likes have no components onlookers can be more easily convinced that what they see is real, especially if you mime casting a more dangerous spell. You can even have your illusions pop up in your wake without moving an inch! The applications of these spells are limitless for people who enjoy playing tricksters and deceivers, and both of them have their advantages (Silent Image, mainly, being usable one more time each day), so pick the one that works best with your shenanigans!

Boon 2: Inspired Illusionist: Illusion spells from the Figment and Glamer subschool that you cast last twice as long, as if affected by Extend Spell. They cannot be affected by the Extend Spell Metamagic feat. In addition, the following spells are added to your spells known: Silent Image, Minor Image, Major Image, Hallucinatory Terrain, Persistent Image, Project Image, and Screen.

All of those spells are figments and glamers, of course.

Mmm, free feats! Sort of! It’s not really a feat, but imitates one, doubling the duration of your illusions to give them some serious staying power. While you’ll rarely need an illusion for such a long time, some spells require you to concentrate on them to maintain their effects but have a small window of time where their effects sustain themselves when you lose concentration, typically just 2 or 3 rounds. Doubling this time means anything you conjure in combat will likely stay in place for its duration, allowing you to ‘fire and forget’ your figments and concentrate on ones that will actually cause pain.

Alternately, this will let you mix your illusions with other spells you cast to make it even more realistic!

Also, note that while most projections are figments, glamers include such treasures as Disguise Self and Invisibility, as well as all of its offshoots (Greater, Mass, etc). Doubling the duration of Mass Invisibility without needing a higher level spell slot can absolutely trivialize some stealth missions, letting you and your party stay hidden until everyone is in position. Invisibility already lasts for a full minute per level, and doubling that just makes it ridiculous.

ALSO also, free spells! They’re added right to your spells known list so Oracles don’t even have to worry about giving up their precious spells known slots! AND they’re some of the best Illusion spells you could ask for! If only she gave you Mirage Arcana... Oh, it does bear mentioning that the spells are added to your spell list; they’re not spell-likes! In fact, it’s up to the DM whether or not your illusory spell-like abilities are actually affected by this ability, because normally you need the Extend Spell-Like Ability feat to do so, while this ability only replicates Extend Spell. Something to discuss!

Boon 3: Willful Weaver: 3/day, you may use illusions to mimic certain Conjuration or Evocation spells, as if using Greater Shadow Conjuration or Shadow Evocation.

I love Boons like this, because they’re powerful! But I also hate Boons like this, because they’re difficult to talk about! It’s like someone handing you a toolbox filled to bursting with whatever you could ask for and then telling you to describe the functions of each one and what sorts of problems you could solve with it. Rather than going on for eighty paragraphs about it, I’ll simply cover two or three spells each one can replicate, and leave the rest up to you! And always, always remember that spell-likes can be cast without components, meaning that even if you’re tied up or at the mercy of a villain, you can still call for aid from the Plane of Shadow.

Greater Shadow Conjuration lets you mimic any 6th or lower Conjuration (Creation) or Conjuration (Summoning) spell from the Wizard or Sorcerer spell lists, such as Wall of Iron, Summon Monster VI, or Acid Fog. Creatures who succeed on the Will save needed to see through the illusions only take 60% of the damage the spell would normally deal, or are only affected by the special effects and abilities of the spell (or creature it summons) 60% of the time. If the poor fool fails its Will save, however, it treats the conjured creature or item as if it were completely real. Note that Greater Shadow Conjuration does not require any components of the original spell, letting you replicate spells that normally have costly components for free!

Shadow Evocation can mimic the effects of any 4th level or lower Evocation spell from the Wiz/Sorc list, such as Wall of Fire, Fireball, or Resilient Sphere. Sadly, it’s much more gracious with people who manage to see through it; people who succeed on the Will save to see through the illusion take only 20% of the damage they would have been dealt, and have only a 20% chance to be affected by any non-damaging effect it may have. This is in addition to whatever reductions may be in place if they succeed the save against the original spell, as well. Failing the Will save makes them treat the spell as real, of course, and as with GSC, your illusory replication requires no components, letting you throw around spells you’d normally hesitate to because of their price tag.

Now THIS is how you do a Boon! Excellent! Now, lets see about the Sentinel...

———-

SENTINEL

———-

Boon 1: Trapper. Gain Animate Rope 3/day, Web 2/day, or Spiked Pit 1/day.

Animate Rope’s a bit niche here, and it’s competing with Web, so unfortunately it’s going to have to get pushed off the table a bit. Its uses out of combat aren’t particularly astonishing, and its uses in combat are done better by Web in almost all situations, anyway.

Few things can gum up a pitched battle than a huge swath of the terrain suddenly being replaced with an impassable tangle of sticky fibers, grappling anyone who fails a Reflex save and becoming difficult terrain and partial cover for all creatures who succeed. The fact it needs to be anchored between two points means it can’t be used in every situation, but more often than not, combat scenarios you get trapped in will likely have plenty of spots to hang your webs from. Two walls count as anchor points! As does a ceiling and a floor--your Web doesn’t need to be places horizontally!

Spiked Pit is a nasty spell, conjuring a 10x10 extradimensional hole that’s 50 feet deep, lined with deadly spikes. One can think of it like a pseudo Save-or-Suck, capable of taking any foe that fits inside the entry hole out of the fight for its entire duration if they aren’t good at the whole climbing bit. The DC to scale a Spiked Pit is 20, and few creatures--especially humanoids--will actually bother putting the ranks in Climb they’ll need to make their way out with any sort of expediency. Not to mention, the spines will be clawing 1d6 chunks per round out of any creature that remains in the pit; it’s not much damage, but it’s damage they cannot avoid taking so long as they remain in the conjured hole.

Plus, you can throw more people into it! 50ft is a lot of storage space!

One niche spell, and two really good area control spells. The Grandmother certainly blesses her Sentinels!

Boon 2: Net Master: You gain Net Adept as a bonus feat, ignoring its prerequisites. If you already have Net Adept, you instead gain a +1 sacred or profane bonus to attack rolls with a net. In addition, if you are wielding a net one-handed and have nothing in your off hand, you gain a +1 shield bonus to AC.

As with the case of Ahriman, if you’re truly the kind of person who wants to use your god’s sacred weapon, you likely already have the feats you need to make it effective, especially since Net Adept can be taken as early as level 1.

Net Adept lets you use a net as a melee weapon with a 10ft reach, meaning you possess an huge threat radius (for a player)... with a weapon that deals no damage. Don’t get me wrong, nets are handy! They tangle and impede anyone you hit with a ranged touch attack, potentially tethering them to you until they manage to escape, but there’s only so much you can do with just a net on its own. While this ability encourages you to avoid wielding another weapon to get that free AC, a net is best used with something small and stabby/large and crushy that you can malice your trapped target with. A bludgeoning instrument is especially useful here, as it’s less likely to actually tear at your webbing while you slowly render your tangled foe into a fine paste. The +1 AC usually isn’t attractive enough to give up when compared to actually doing something about your snared victim. 

Being a Net Master does mean that you’re amazing at keeping anyone from getting away from you. with people trying to flee your 10ft reach drawing your Attacks of Opportunity and getting snagged for their troubles... But, again, you can be a Net Adept as early as level 1 compared to this ability coming online at level 11 at the earliest, at which point all this ability really does is give you +1 to your attack rolls with nets and encourages you to not wield a weapon in your offhand. Not a good look! Unless you plan on taking people alive, of course, but pfffpt, who does that?

Boon 3: Binding Strike: Upon confirming a critical hit against an enemy, you can choose to entangle the enemy in sticky webs rather than dealing any extra damage. This acts as Hold Monster, with a caster level equal to your HD. You may use this ability a number of times per day equal to your Charisma modifier (min 1).

No saving throw, by the way! Confirming the critical hit is good enough in this case, the monster ending up smashed by the effect even if they’d normally have sky-high saves. Hold Monster lasts 1 round/level, essentially meaning whoever you hit with this is out of the fight for good, especially if you or an ally can follow up with a coup de grace afterwords. Its uses per day are unfortunately tied to Charisma, a stat the Sentinel will likely have little use for, but knowing you’re going to get this ability ahead of time allows you to plan for it! Don’t dump Cha!

Unlike with Yhidothrus’ second Sentinel Boon, it can be quite easy for a Sentinel of Grandmother Spider to justify giving up the juicy extra damage of a critical hit for a secondary effect, since this secondary effect more or less deals infinite damage--in that whoever’s hit by it is gone for over a minute. LIKE the Ravager Worm’s Sentinel Boon, though, Hold Monster simply fails to work against a lot of enemies you’d often really like it to work against; once you hit the middle-high levels, you’re likely to start facing threats from less human adversaries. Constructs, Dragons, Oozes, Plants, Undead, AND Vermin outright ignore this ability, a full 6 of 13 creature types! (and one common creature subtype--Elementals!) While you’re likely to be facing mostly Humanoids or Monstrous Humanoids, the fact this ability falters against such a huge number of different foes can be discouraging.

And piling on top of all of this, again, is the fact you have to land a successfully confirmed critical hit to see it come into play at all, something that’s entirely luck-based. When it lands it’s GLORIOUS! But if the dice are against you, you may never see it when you really, really need to. I’m not a fan of Boons that trigger randomly!

Looks like the Exalted win this round!

You can read more about her here.

[myckicade]

Do the kids stay snakes forever, or do they change into toddlers/babies? (I only just found your blog so I have no idea if you've answered a similar ask, so please forgive me if you have) Bc tbh I thought that in the last ask you answered, that Crowley might turn around and find the missing kid looking like a toddler, walking on unsteady legs, knocking things over and completely nude. He sees Crowley and they just stare at each other until the baby smiles and laughs while Crowley is just "???"

Awww! That’s so adorable! I gave it some thought, and I think it would go down, a little something like this:

P.S. This is being broken down into (at least) three parts.

***

“Do you think they’ll be like this, always?” Aziraphale asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t dare raise it, even a fraction, for fear of waking the two slumbering hatchlings curled around his throat.

Crowley looked up from where he sat, at the opposite end of the sofa. “What do you mean?” he murmured, with a tired smile. The child draped over his shoulder didn’t budge. The one on his chest wiggled for a second, before settling back down. Reaching up, Crowley brushed a gentle thumb along the boy’s side, hoping to comfort him back to sleep.

On the other cushion, Aziraphale looked to be struggling over a thought. “I mean, will they be… Well…” He looked to each of the four children, in-turn, before looking to their mother. “Like they are now.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “What, like, snakes, you mean?”

Aziraphale gave a guilty nod. “I-I’m not trying to say that there’s something wrong with it. With them.” He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a second. Crowley’s smile returned. Now, his angel was just over-thinking it. “I love them. You know I do. I just wondered if…” He sighed. “Well, I just wondered if you thought they might have inherited your gift for… Well… Transmogrification.”

“Shape-shifting, angel,” Crowley corrected lightly. “Let them learn the easy words, first.” That got a smile. Still, Aziraphale carried that expression of guilt, which didn’t suit the demon, at all. “I know what you mean. And, honestly, I’m not sure.”

Blue eyes glanced up. “No?”

Crowley shook his head briefly, before catching himself. “I mean, I’d like to think so. They’ve certainly got the right personalities for it.”

“My dear, they’ve only just joined the world.” True, just hours prior, they had begun cracking their ways into existence, beyond their shells. They’d been checked, fed, and sleepy, in no time. Given the hours of waiting, watching, and caring for them, their parents were likewise ready for a nap. “How can you tell what their personalities are?”

Crowley’s lips turned up, in the softest expression he was sure he’d ever attempted. (If a full fifty-percent of that expression was smug satisfaction, then so be it. He’d earned it). “Easy,” he replied, looking the father of his children in the eyes. “I’m their mother.”

***

“Where in the f-.” Crowley paused, catching himself, at the last second. He leaned back, to peer through the doorway, and into the living room. Nah, they couldn’t hear him. Still, he bit his tongue. He’d promised Aziraphale, after all.

But, really, where, in every conceivable Circle of Hell, was his fucking plant mister?!

It had been going on for days, now. Every time he tried to find something, he felt like it wasn’t where he’d left it. Keys, cups, books… Crowley half-expected to come home to find the whole blessed flat moved slightly to the left. He was getting closer and closer to believing that, no, he wasn’t just imagining it. Which left only a handful of options:

1. Aziraphale was right, and pregnancy had left him a little light in the brain cells, and lax in memory.

2. Aziraphale thought he was being fucking funny, in hiding Crowley’s things.

3. The fucking place was haunted.

Honestly, he liked the third option the best. He was pretty sure he’d read that, somewhere, in the last century, that newborn babies could disrupt the peace and harmony of the spirit world. And, he’d had four of them.

Crowley cringed. On second thought, the first option was looking better and better.

Pausing, he took a deep breath, which he let back out slowly. Where hadn’t he looked? Well, no, really, where hadn’t he looked, by that point? He’d been through the bedroom, the bathroom, and he’d threatened the plants three separate times. (As expected, everyone was pretty well mum on the subject). Nothing was on the kitchen counters, but-Oh! Maybe, the cupboards. It stood to reason. After all, Aziraphale was always putting things back where they didn’t belong.

Bless him, his lover tried. His heart was in the right place, even if Crowley had no idea where the angel’s brain sometimes ended up.

Though, as of recently - as evidenced, at the moment - Crowley really was one to talk.

Well, the cupboards were as good an idea as any, he supposed. He made a sudden one-eighty, intent to saunter back to the kitchen. A shot of discomfort in his hips stopped him in his tracks. Crowley swallowed back a hiss, and shook his head. “Ow.” He rocked from side to side, a few times, stretching that one out, before continuing on his way. “Wish that would go away.” From the beginning of his pregnancy, he’d been plagued by aches to… most of his body. And, most of them had gone away, by the time he’d given birth. The hips, though. That pain had decided to stick around for a prolonged torment. The frequency, and severity had both lessened, but every now and then…

Crowley smiled, just a little. Every now and then, he’d get a reminder of how worthwhile the last six thousand years truly had been.

“Helps that you’re cute, too,” he murmured, as he passed by the most precious basket in all of Creation. He peeked in, smiling at the three slumbering sn-.

Three? Oh, Hell, not this again.

“Freddie, you little-.” That child was a terror, Crowley had concluded. Every time he turned his back, Freddie was out of the basket, and off on an adventure. He had no idea where the boy got it from. Honestly. One of Aziraphale’s hidden traits, he imagined.

And, promptly, he scoffed. ‘Hidden’. Sure.

Crowley continued toward the kitchen, already picturing the jar of biscuits, in his head, complete with his son, nibbling away on more sugar than any four children would ever need. (And, he would know).

“Somethin’ wrong, Mama?” came a voice from Aziraphale’s chair, across the room.

“Yeah, baby, don’t worry. I’ve just got to go find your brother.”

Wait. Wait, what?

Crowley stopped, mid-step, just to back up, a few paces. Poking his head back into the living room, he turned wide eyes toward the source of that voice. He was met by the stare of a pair of golden-coloured eyes, under a mop of messy, blonde curls. A little girl. Three, maybe four years old. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought someone’s child had wandered into his flat, by mistake.

“Uhhh,” he muttered helpfully, as he stepped closer to the girl. “Hi, there.”

She beamed. “Hi, Mama!” The child kicked her feet, under the weight of the heavy book that was open, atop her lap.

Yeah. Yeah, she was definitely one of his.

Crowley took another step. Floundered for a second, for something to say. “Sooo…” he began, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He rocked back on his heels, a couple of times. “Out of the basket, I see?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Daddy didn’t finish the story yet, and I wanna’ know what happened to th'dragon.” She held up the story book, a bit, for her mother to see.

“Ah-huh.” Crowley nodded slowly. So, she’d clearly gone from one end of the room to the other, powered by the knowledge that, at the end of her efforts, she would be rewarded with a book. Yeah. That sounded familiar. “And, you had to stretch your limbs, because…?”

What followed was the most indignant expression he’d ever encountered from a child. “How else was I gonna’ turn the pages?” She huffed, just a little, before glancing back down to the book. “I had t'stare at the same picture so long, I got bored.”

Crowley found himself staring, for a moment. And, when the first thought in his head was, Yeah, wait ‘til your Dad tries to take you to a gallery, he scrubbed a hand over his face. Blinked, a few times. Made sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He could hardly blame himself, on that last bit. It was borderline insane, what was happening. All right, all right, yes, he knew the day was likely to arrive, eventually, but… He was talking to his child. Talking with her, not just rambling on about nothing, and getting a tongue-flicker, in return. But, if he was talking to her…

Crowley took a moment to glance back at the basket, under the heat lamp. One, two-Yep. Still three of them. Well, he’d be blessed. He owed Freddie an apology.

Turning back to his most recent runaway, he squinted, trying to figure out which one she was. Pinky and Jeckle had the same colour eyes, so that was out, as an identifier. And, all three that remained in the basket were still sound asleep, curled up, and hiding any other telltale markings.

Ah, right. Markings. That was when he spotted it. Along the little girl’s side, near her ribs, Crowley could see the edges of what looked to be a fairly sizable birthmark. A blush-coloured birthmark.

Again, the demon found himself smiling. “Pinky.”

Pinky looked up again. “Yes, Mama?” She held his gaze, expectant, and Crowley felt something catch in his chest. It wasn’t just the blonde hair that gave her away as her father’s daughter.

Oh, Aziraphale was going to shit a brick.

Striding the rest of the way across the room, Crowley nabbed the book from his daughter’s hands. Before Pinky could give voice to the protest he could just feel was coming on, he lifted the child into his arms. “Come on, then,” he replied, finally, and dropped a kiss to Pinky’s cheek. She giggled, hugging her arms around his neck. Oh, motherhood was turning him into such a sap. He was going to be a puddle of goo, before too long. And, this was just the first!

“Where are we goin’?”

“To get some clothes on you.” Crowley grinned, carrying Pinky toward the bedroom. “Maybe, comb your hair. Can’t have you running around, in the altogether, when your father gets home.” Said father, he knew, was in for quite a surprise.

“He’d better be home, soon!” Pinky warned. “He’s got stories ta’ finish!”

Crowley threw his head back, in a laugh. Quite a surprise, indeed.

***

Later, while he and Aziraphale sat on the couch, accompanied by a bottle of wine, Crowley scrunched his nose, in thought. “Where did she even get 'Mama’ from, anyway?”

Aziraphale’s answer was just fucking typical. “Well, my dear, I’m sure it was from one of those dreadful television programs you like to watch, while they’re awake.”

Crowley didn’t even check to see if any of the children could see him, before he flipped their father off.

[aweebwrites]

The Good Life

Cole snored as he slept like a log, exhausted after a hard day on the job. He was a construction site co-manager, in charge of building a new mall just two more out from their cozy suburb home. It was tough but a necessity. It was great finally having a day off which means he can sleep in all he wants…

“Pops. Hey dad!” A small figure climbed into bed, across the lump curled into his side on the right, making them groan. “Come on dad! Wake up!” Small hands smacked his cheeks and Cole groaned, peering an eye open.

“What is it Lloyd?” He mumbled, looking at the 8 year old with his blond bowl cut and big, bright green eyes.

“Daddy says it's your day to drive me to school.” He says with a grin, revealing a gap between his teeth from where he lost a canine tooth recently.

“No way. It's Jay's day…” Coke groaned, closing his eye again.

“Not so fast Cole. I dropped him off yesterday. Today's your day. You promised Zane too, remember?” Jay murmured from his left, peering a blue eye open then reaching up to ruffle their son's hair.

“Quit it pops!” Lloyd huffed, smacking his hand away from his hair. “Come on dad! If you sleep in, we're gonna be late!” He says, lifting Cole eyelid open to look at his brown eye then his green.

“Alright, alright already.” Cole groaned then picked him up off his chest as he sat up. “Where is your Daddy anyway?” He asked, setting him down so he could stretch and yawn.

“Making breakfast. He sent me to wake you up. It's pancake day!” Lloyd grinned then squirmed off the bed and running out of their room.

“Hmm? Pancakes?” Kai mumbled from Cole's right as he lifted his head, revealing a mop of brown hair.

“You heard the kid. Time to get up and out big guy.” Jay says as he sat up, wrapping his arms around Cole's thick, muscled one as he laid against his shoulder.

“I can hardly do that when you're clinging to me like that.” Cole says drily but pecked Jay's lips once he tilted his head up for one.

“I want sugar too.” Kai mumbled and Cole chuckled before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Kai's 5 o’clock shadow before pausing.

“Shouldn't you be at work by now?” Cole questioned and Kai only burrowed more into bed.

“Nah. Shade and I swapped shifts.” He mumbled into his pillow.

“Uh- didn't you say that was for next week? You know? The 15th? Today's the 8th.” Jay reminded, peering over at him.

Kai laid there for a moment.

“Oh fuck!” He yelled as he shot out of bed, rushing into the bathroom.

“That's $10 in the swear jar!” Cole called after him as Jay snickered into his shoulder.

“You've got somewhere to go too. I'm gonna see if I can get Zane to make chocolate chip pancakes.” Jay says, slipping out of bed and grabbing his robe along the way.

Cole watched him leave as he slipped it on before getting to his feet with a yawn, heading out to use their spare bathroom. So much for sleeping in...

Jay headed down the stairs then through the living room. He then paused at the kitchen entry to see Zane cleaning up Lloyd's face where blueberry stains lingered around his mouth and on his cheeks. He was even wearing one of the pink frilled aprons he loved so much. Today he was wearing the one Ki bought him that had red hearts in the design.

“Messy, aren't you. You're just like your fathers.” Zane says fondly, gently cleaning Lloyd's face. “There. Nice and clean.” He says, pulling back and cupping his cheek as he grinned at him.

It brought warmth into Jay's heart. He more than the rest of them had major doubts about taking on Lloyd so early into their relationship, when they didn't know what they were, what they would all become. But four years have passed since Lloyd's father died and three since their mentor, Lloyd's uncle followed. Lloyd was put in their care since his father's death since Mentor Wu was not only ill but was well into age. It was a tough time. None of them thought they had what it took to be parents. Zane never knew his mother and was orphaned at a young age. He was forced to face the memories, the emotions he felt towards his father to become the great parent he was today. They all had to. Jay was the only one with good experiences parent wise, even though he was adopted but he doubted himself. He was the goof who couldn't take anything serious after all.

They almost broke apart several times but then they would look to Lloyd, a child with no living family, a child who needed them and they pulled themselves together, worked through it. For him. Then for themselves. He was the best thing to happen to all of them. In fact, if it wasn't for their lovable, mischievous son, they would never had been together like this. Together and happy. While they all missed Garmadon and Wu, they would live on in their honor and take care of Lloyd. Not because they had to. But because they want to. He was theirs.

“How long do you plan on standing there?” Jay jolted to reality to find Zane inclining his head towards him as he flipped pancakes.

“I don't know. You and the squirt make a nice picture.” Jay says with a grin, walking in to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss against the back of his neck as he tipped.

“I’m not a squirt!” Lloyd huffed and both fathers looked over at his adorable pouting face. “Daddy says drinking milk helps bone grow so I drink lots everyday! I'm gonna become way taller than you are!” He says, sticking his tongue out at Jay.

“Ah but that's in the future. For now, you're a squirt.” Jay says, walking over to where he was seated around the kitchen island.

Lloyd huffed, looking away.

“Jay…” Zane sighed, placing a hand on his hip, looking at his lover in disappointment.

Jay only grinned back at him before turning to Lloyd.

“But you know, being a squirt isn't all that bad…” Jay hummed and Lloyd looked at him suspiciously.

He yelped once Jay swung him up off the chair and onto his shoulders.

“If you weren't a squirt, I couldn't do this!” Jay grinned, walking around the kitchen as Lloyd giggled, gripping his hair.

“No fooling around in the kitchen Jay.” Zane says fondly, returning his attention to breakfast.

“Aww…” Lloyd pouted as Jay set him down.

“You heard your mom- er, dad.” Jay says with a sheepish grin once Zane shot him a glare.

“No time to talk. Gotta go.” Kai says as he hastily swept into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge while adjusting his security uniform.

He's currently a security guard at the museum in the city and while he found the museum itself utterly boring, some of his highschool friends worked there as security guards as well. Such as Shade, Paleman, Ash, Tox and Gravis. Gravis actually worked in the space exhibit but he's around often enough that they could always chat things up.

“The old man mixed up his shift.” Lloyd told Zane once the blond looked confused.

“I thought I told you not to call me that? I'm literally the second youngest one here!” Kai huffed, taking out his lunch Zane set overnight.

“Whatever you say old man.” Lloyd says, beaming once Zane set a stack of pancakes before him.

“Honestly.” Kai grumbled then zipped his bag up. “I've gotta go.” He says then kissed Lloyd's, Jay's then Zane's cheek, snatching a pancake as he all but ran out, only pausing to peck Cole's lips.

“He's something else, isn't he.” Cole says with a smirk as he walking into the kitchen, hearing the sound of a bike pull out outside.

“That he is.” Zane mused, setting down another stack for Jay and Cole then himself.

“Krux is a real jerk though. Hopefully the others covered for him or else Krux might put in a bad word and get him transferred. Again.” Jay says as he took the maple syrup away from Lloyd before he empties the entire bottle.

“Nah. Krux may not like the younger generation but he and Kai share a hated for technology. He won't let him go just to get someone else like his brother Acronix.” Cole says as he began to eat.

“I met them once when I tagged along for Lloyd's field trip to the museum a month ago. They... Weren't the most pleasant people.” Zane says, setting down a mug of coffee for Cole, a glass of orange juice for Jay and a glass of milk for Lloyd.

He smiled once he collected a kiss on the cheek from each of them (Lloyd insisted on kissing his unkissed cheek because of dad cooties) then sat down with his own cup of Jasmine tea.

“Anything exciting going on at work today Jay?” Zane asked to make conversation.

While Zane himself was a stay at home father through choice, he did also have a job, working as an online tech support for Borg Industries. The hours are flexible and Cyrus was a friend of them all through Pixal whom they befriended in college. Jay also worked in Borg Industries as apart of the engineering team. While Mr.Borg may have offered them both jobs as a friend, they also had the qualifications and skill necessary. They excelled at it.

“It's mostly classified but we're almost done with the prototype for the Borg hover car.” Jay says proudly.

“Oh? Good job.” Cole mumbled around his pancakes.

“Don't talk while eating dad.” Lloyd says, his own mouth full of pancakes.

“Look who's talking!” Cole says after swallowing.

“Guys, please.” Jay says and of course- his mouth was full too, making them all laugh.

All except Zane.

“Boys.” He says firmly, giving them all a scolding look and they became sheepish.

“Sorry.”

_____________

“Shotgun!” Lloyd yelled and hopped into the front seat of their 3 year old BBV (Borg Beta V).

“You do realize there’s no-one else coming to take shotgun, right? And your booster seat is there for a reason… Right?” Cole says, amused as he slid in the driver’s seat.

“Shh. Let me dream dad.” Lloyd says, closing the door then buckling up.

“Dream away kiddo.” Cole says with a chuckle, buckling up as well.

“Seat belts! So we can be safe!” Lloyd yelled once he did and Cole huffed.

“That’s the point, yes.” He says then started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

They waved at Jay and Zane standing by the door before driving off.

“We’re going on a trip-”

“Oh god Lloyd please. I don’t want to have that stuck in my head again…” Cole groaned, cutting him off.

“Alright.” Lloyd says and Cole glanced at him suspiciously.

There was silence.

“EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!!! EVERYTHING IS COOL WHEN YOU’RE PART OF THE TEAM! EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!!!” Lloyd sung at maximum volume and Cole would have smacked his face into the steering wheel if he didn’t value his and their son’s life.

“Well. If you can’t beat them, join them.” Cole shrugged.

“EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!!! WHEN YOU’RE LIVING OUT A DREAM!!!”

By the time they pulled up to Lloyd’s middle school, they were wheezing with laughter.

“Alright, alright. Fun’s over. Time for school.” Cole says once he caught his breath.

“Ok. See you later dad.” Lloyd says as he unbuckled himself then hopped out.

“See yah kiddo.” Cole says with a fond smile, handing him his lunch bag.

Lloyd took it with a grin then closed the door and ran off to meet up with his friends Brad and Gene. They were his bullies in the beginning of his first year here but let’s just say… Zane can be very scary when he’s pissed off. Now, they were tightly knit friends. Cole waited until they walked inside the school building before pulling out, returning home. By the time he returned, Jay was there, waiting for the car, somehow already dressed and ready for work in the short time he left.

“She’s all yours.” Cole says as he slipped out of the car, leaving the keys in.

“Thanks Rocky.” Jay says, pressing a kiss to his stubbled jaw before slipping into the car.

“Looks like it’s just you and me today, daddy.” Cole says with a wink.

“Ugh. Cole please.” Zane says with disgust, heading in as Jay pulled out.

Cole paused, rethinking his words before grimacing in disgust.

“Ok, not the best choice of words…” He says as he followed after him.

______________________________

Part 2

______________________________

(Tada! Here you are anon! I know there isn’t enough Kai and Lloyd dad time so no worries! I’m planning a part two for tomorrow! I hope you liked this part at least! Sorry for the lateness!)

[gryffindorcls]

Please Tell Me I’m Awake Right Now

(Part 3)

Unlike the previous night, Marinette slept soundly.  Having Adrien know her true feelings was a blessed relief.  She felt like she could breathe again.

She awoke to the sound of her phone chiming.  She groaned and reluctantly reached for her device.  The time read 8:37 a.m.  

“I thought I told him not to bother me before 10:00 a.m.,” she mentally noted.

She unlocked her phone and opened her messages.  To her surprise, the text wasn’t from Adrien.

ALYA- Hey girl!  Guess who’s I saw in the park this morning? <3

Before Marinette could respond, another notification appeared on her phone.  This time it was a picture of a photo shoot in progress.  Adrien was sitting on the edge of the fountain, and it looked like he was waiting for instructions.  Marinette zoomed in on her boyfriend’s face and frowned.  He looked miserable.

ALYA- Marinette?

ALYA- Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty! :D

Marinette rolled her eyes and began typing a response.  Alya also knew not to wake her up before 10:00 a.m. on her days off.

MARINETTE- Do you know what time it is? >:(

ALYA- Yeah.  It’s time for you to get your lazy butt over to the park. :P

MARINETTE- What are you doing up so early?

ALYA- I had a breakfast date with Nino, and we decided to walk in the park.  

ALYA- Then we saw Mr. Sunshine, and we know how close you two have gotten over the past few weeks.  This would be the perfect opportunity to spend some quality time with him!

MARINETTE- You know that he’s not allowed to talk to any of us when he’s in the middle of a photo shoot.  I don’t want to get him in trouble.

ALYA- I didn’t say that we were going to crash the photo shoot, but maybe you could just smile and wave from far away.  Come on, the poor guy looks like he could use some cheering up.

ALYA- There’s literally no reason not to show up.

ALYA- You’re already awake.

ALYA- It’s across the street from your apartment.

ALYA- It’s a beautiful day.

ALYA- You love him. <3 <3 <3

ALYA- Come on… :(

As much as she hated to admit it, Marinette couldn’t argue with that logic.  She tossed the covers off and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  

Maybe surprising her new boyfriend in the park would wipe that frown off of his face.  She hated to see him looking so droopy.  Someone as amazing as Adrien should have a smile on his face.

“Should I tell Alya about our new relationship status before I meet up with her?” Marinette thought, “Nah!  She’s gonna flip.  This is going to be hilarious.”

She quietly laughed to herself.  Plagg was definitely starting to rub off on her.  She then proceeded to type out her response.

MARINETTE- FINE!

MARINETTE- I’ll be there soon.

ALYA- :D

ALYA- AWESOME!

ALYA- See you soon! ;)

Marinette dragged herself out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom.  She looked at herself in the mirror.

“Even though our date isn’t until later, maybe I should start the day looking cute,” she pondered.

“Tikki,” Marinette called.

The Kwami zoomed into view.

“Yes, Marinette?” Tikki yawned.

Marinette looked at her Kwami with a smile.  “How do you think Adrien would like me with curly hair?”

Tikki giggled in response.

***

It was 9:58 a.m. by the time Marinette walked out of the bakery door.  She wound up putting on a dusty pink sundress, a light denim jacket, and strappy sandals.  Her hair was down with loose curls that elegantly framed her face.  Sure, it had taken her a little longer to get ready, but she decided that it had been time well spent.

Before leaving, Marinette grabbed an assortment of pastries to share with her friends.  She rolled her eyes as her parents smiled when they handed her the box.  She wondered what they would think about her new boyfriend.  They would probably be thrilled.

Marinette was vibrating with excitement at the idea of seeing Adrien again.  However, she knew that she had to play it cool to get the best reaction possible out of her friends.  She took a deep breath and channeled her inner Ladybug poker face.

She looked both ways before bolting across the street.  Alya had texted her several times while she had been getting ready, so Marinette knew that she and Nino were still in the park.

After several minutes, she spotted them on a bench.  Nino had his arm wrapped around Alya, and she had her head on his shoulder.  They were laughing and smiling.

Alya perked up and waved her arm when she spotted Marinette.  Nino acknowledged her presence with a nod.

“Finally!” Alya exclaimed, “Where have you been?  Your little sunflower over there is wilting more and more with each passing second.”

“Good morning to you, too, Alya,” Marinette smirked, “You two look cozy.”

“Yeah, you should try it sometime,” Alya noted with a grin.

“Whatever you say.” Marinette waved her hand dismissively.  

“I’m sure it would make that poor, blond model over there pretty happy.  Maybe you should go help him out,” Alya teased.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on Alya’s face when she figured everything out.  Marinette suppressed a chuckle.

“You know I can’t just go over there and crash a photo shoot.  If I did that, I’d probably be blacklisted in the fashion industry, and I’m not really out to destroy my career before it even starts,” Marinette retorted.

“True, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to let him know that you’re here.  Recently I’ve seen that boy light up whenever you walk into a room,” Alya suggested.

Nino nodded in agreement, “It’s true.  Now, when someone brings you up in a conversation his whole face changes.”

“Really?” Marinette said softly.

“Really,” Nino confirmed.

Had he really been looking at her like that all along?  Sure, it’s only been a few weeks since the reveal, but she assumed that he was just glad to finally know who Ladybug was.  Did she really make him happy?

Nino broke Marinette out of her reverie. “Yeah, dude, whatever you’re doing for my man keep it up.  I’ve never seen him smile so much.”

Marinette could feel tears of joy prickling the corners of her eyes.  Avoiding Nino and Alya’s gaze, she turned and walked toward the photo shoot.

Even though she was still a respectable distance away, she attempted to get Adrien’s attention.  She waved a few times before his eyes flicked towards her movement.  It looked like it took a second for it to register in Adrien’s brain that he was looking at Marinette, but once he realized who was waving at him he beamed.  All the darkness that had been hovering over his features melted away.  A goofy, lovesick grin spread across his face.  She returned his smile with enthusiasm.

“That’s my loveable dork,” Marinette thought as she giggled to herself.

As he continued to look at her, she could feel the butterflies in her stomach doing somersaults.  Her face started to feel warmer as a creeping blush settled in.

Adrien looked away as his photographer spoke to him.  He nodded and said something in return.  When he turned back to Marinette he mouthed “ten minutes” and held up ten fingers.  Marinette shook her head in acknowledgment and pointed towards the bench where Alya and Nino were still sitting.  He smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

Marinette returned to her friends and sat down.  She could feel her heart fluttering as she thought about the smile Adrien had just given her.  She sighed as she recalled the kisses they shared only hours ago.  Even though she was sitting, Marinette felt like she was floating through the air.

“Girl, you got it bad,” Alya laughed, “I haven’t seen that lovesick grin in a while.  When did that start back up again?  Is that whole ‘I’m just trying to be his friend right now’ thing not working for you anymore?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marinette said in an attempt to play it cool.  She couldn’t reveal her secret yet.  

“Mmmmmhmmm.” Alya did not look convinced.

Not wanting to give anything away, Marinette quickly changed the subject.  She asked Alya and Nino what they had been up to during the first few days of summer break.  Alya spoke animatedly about an article she wrote for the Ladyblog that got a lot of views, and Nino talked passionately about a new mix he was creating.  She smiled and listened politely.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her shoulders and chest.  As the arms gave her a gentle squeeze, Marinette jumped and squeaked in surprise.

“Hey, Princess,” a warm, familiar voice spoke softly in her ear, “I didn’t mean to startle you.  I missed you.”

“Woah, man, hey!  Where did you come from?  We didn’t even hear you,” Nino remarked.

Adrien pulled his arms away from Marinette and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously, “Sorry about that.”

“Sometimes I swear you must be part cat or something, man.  I mean, no one is that quiet.  It’s not natural, dude,” Nino commented.

Marinette snorted, and she swore she could hear Plagg stifle a cackle from inside his chosen’s shirt.  Adrien shot Marinette a knowing glance and rolled his eyes.

Adrien moved to the front of the bench and pulled Marinette out of her seat.

He leaned in and whispered, “So, I’m guessing you haven’t told them yet?”

“Nope,” she whispered in return.

“So, are we keeping this a secret, or are we putting on a show?” he mused still leaning in closely.

“I thought a show could be kind of fun,” Marinette smirked.

“There’s probably going to be pictures.”

“I don’t care.”

“They’ll probably wind up on Instagram.”

“That’s fine with me.  Will your dad be okay with it?”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” Adrien mumbled.

“Sounds good to me,” Marinette said leaning in closer.

“Okay, you two,” Alya interrupted, “Care to share with the class?”

Adrien ignored Alya and pulled back to look Marinette in the eyes.  He smiled brightly as his hand moved to brush a tendril of loose hair from her face.

“Your hair is down,” he remarked, “You look beautiful.”

Marinette blushed again and looked down.  He gently moved his hand to lift up her chin.  As he did so, her eyelids fluttered.  Marinette heard Adrien’s breath hitch as his eyes met hers again.

“May I?” he asked softly.

“Always,” Marinette replied.

Adrien closed the gap between them.  When their lips met, Marinette once again experienced the floating sensation she felt only moments ago.  Only this time, she felt like she was being vaulted across the universe to dance among the stars.  She decided that kisses from Adrien were her new favorite thing.

For a moment, the world melted away around them.  Marinette felt like she and Adrien were in their own personal bubble...until they were interrupted by an ear-piercing screech.

“WHAT WAS THAT!?!?” Alya screamed.

“Whatever do you mean?” Marinette shot her friend a teasing grin.

“MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG!  WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?”

“Last night.”

“Wait...you’re telling me that we’ve been talking all morning, and you didn’t think this would be something important to mention?”

“Well, I kind of wanted to see how you’d react.  Turns out it was worth it.”

Alya groaned in frustration and buried her head in her hands.  She then lifted her head, shrugged, and pulled out her phone.

“You are going to be the death of me,” she noted, “but at least my ship is sailing.  Please continue looking cute.  Don’t mind me.”

Adrien leaned in and rested his forehead on Marinette’s.  He chuckled softly.

“Wow, Princess,” he whispered, “Plagg would be proud.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Marinette whispered excitedly in return.

“Just so you know, I am proud, Bug.  Thanks for the entertainment,” a small third voice quietly declared from inside Adrien’s shirt.

Marinette’s nose crinkled when she laughed, and Adrien smiled lovingly.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he sighed, “Do you even realize how adorable you are?”

Marinette squeaked, and Adrien moved his face closer.  He nuzzled her nose, and she giggled happily.

“Oh my GOD,” Nino chimed in, “They are even worse than we ever could have imagined.  Like, we knew they were going to be bad, but this...we can’t even be within ten feet of them anymore.”

“Shhhh!” Alya scolded, “Shut up, Nino.  We’re gonna need this footage for their wedding.”

Marinette pulled her head away from Adrien and saw Alya recording with her phone.  Marinette covered her face with her hands.

“Alya, stop,” she pleaded.

Adrien moved closer to Marinette and wrapped his arms around her.  She proceeded to bury her face in his chest.

“Save me,” Marinette mumbled into his shirt.

Adrien hugged her a little tighter.  “It’s okay, Princess.  We’ll get through it together.  Besides, if you can handle Alya, then you’ll be just fine when my Instagram followers catch wind of our relationship.”

Marinette groaned, and Adrien kissed the top of her head.

“Ohmygosh!  He calls her, Princess.  This is too perfect,” gushed Alya, “Nino, why don’t you ever call me a princess?”

Nino turned to Alya, “First of all, no one out romances Adrien.  He’s like the main love interest in a rom-com.”

Alya and Marinette looked at each other and nodded in agreement.  

“That’s valid,” Alya remarked.

“Agreed,” Marinette added.

“Hey!” Adrien exclaimed feigning hurt.

“Second,” Nino continued, “Alya, you are not my princess.  You are my queen.”

“Oh my God, that was smooth,” Adrien said as he squinted his eyes.

“That was the perfect response,” Alya said reaching for Nino’s cheek’s, “Come here, silly boy.”

Alya leaned in and pecked Nino on the lips.

Marinette folded her arms and jutted out her hip.  “And you told us that we were insufferable.  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Shhhh, Marinette.  We’re going to need this footage for their wedding,” Adrien quipped.

Marinette turned around and saw Adrien grinning mischievously while recording with his phone.

She leaned in and whispered in Adrien’s ear, “Careful, kitty.  Your Chat Noir is showing.”

He responded by kissing her on the temple, once again rendering her into a blushing mess.  

“Okay,” Nino began, “How about everyone just admits that we’re all pretty terrible when it comes to PDAs.”

Adrien, Marinette, and Alya exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.

“Again, valid point,” Alya noted.

“I can’t argue with that,” Adrien said while turning to nuzzle his nose into Marinette’s cheek causing her to giggle.

Much to Marinette’s chagrin, the moment ended abruptly when Adrien’s phone chimed loudly causing him to jump.  He scrambled to look at the notification on his screen.

“Ugh, sorry guys,” Adrien said dejectedly, “Duty calls.  I have to go back to work.  I was only given a fifteen-minute break.”

“That sucks, dude,” Nino remarked.

“Tell me about it,” Adrien responded, “Anyway, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

He then turned to Marinette and took one of her hands in his own.

“And you, Princess,” Adrien looked deeply into her eyes, “I’m looking forward to our date this afternoon.”

“Oh my gosh,” Alya squealed with delight, “You two are going on a date?  My ship really is sailing!”

Adrien continued looking at Marinette. “Will you still be here when I’m finished later or should I meet you at your place?”

“I think I’ll stick around...as long as you don’t mind me admiring you from afar,” Marinette teased.

He lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.  “I wouldn’t mind that at all, Princess.  I’ll see you later.”

Adrien released her hand and walked away.  Marinette nearly melted on the spot.

“Good,” Alya blurted out behind her, “he’s gone.  Now, sit down.  You need to tell me EVERYTHING.”

<—Previous     Next—>

AO3

Fanfiction.net

[patricianandclerk]

Insomnia

No matter how late the hour, there are those at Skyhold still awake.

Night after night, Vivienne is one of the last awake.

My Ask | My Ko-Fi | My Ao3 | Dragon Age Discord | Requests always welcome!

1.

The Iron Bull was silhouetted against the silvery grey sky, which was streaked with meandering cloud, only a handful of stars peeking through. He was leaning on one of the crenulations of the tower, a great big shadow, and Vivienne could see the tell-tale streak of tobacco smoke rising over his head, twining about his horns. Here, in the dead of night, she was rather comforted to know she wasn’t the only of their more important people awake.

“The Iron Bull?” Vivienne asked.

Bull leapt a foot into the air, turning to face her, the cigar dropping to hide behind his thigh.

“Ma’am,” Bull said, his gaze flickering past her. “Er—”

“At ease, darling,” Vivienne murmured. “I was under the impression that young Cremisius had put a stop to the cigars.”

“Er, yeah,” Bull said as Vivienne stepped forwards, her lips quirking into a small smile. She put out her hand, and with a sheepish smile Bull handed out the cigar, looking at her with wonder in his eye as she brought it to her mouth and took a delicate draw. It was spectacularly spiced, and she exhaled slowly, savouring it. “I’m only meant to have ‘em after a good victory.”

“Then why, pray, are you smoking alone on the ramparts?”

Bull’s expression was affectionate as he took the cigar back, and he sighed, glancing at the orange glow of the cigar’s end. Vivienne watched the way he inhaled, moving to stand beside him against the wall, looking out over Skyhold. Only a few candles were still lit all about the fortress, and she could see the little orange glows of tents and bedrooms, scarcely half a dozen of them. Even as she watched, one was blown out.

“Can’t sleep,” Bull said, shrugging his mighty shoulders.

“No,” Vivienne murmured. “Nor can I.”

Bull offered her the cigar again, but she politely shook her head.

“Is there a reason you can’t sleep?” Vivienne asked. “Missing our pride of Tevinter?”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “I guess. Normally, I’d be in a tent with one of the Chargers all the time, but I’m up in that room over the tavern. It’s too quiet. I can hear the tavern downstairs, but nothing in the room with me, you know? Always slept better with someone else on the bed next to me. S’not like we sleep together every night, when he’s not out in the field, just… I don’t know. If he’s here, I know he’s okay.”

“Yes,” Vivienne said softly. There was a tired ache in her chest, and at her eyes she felt the dry heaviness of fatigue, the want to go to bed, but knowing that if she laid herself down, she would only be forced to lie there in the darkness, not able to tip into the Fade. “I’m the same, darling, you’re hardly alone.”

“Can I do anything for you, Ma’am?”

“No,” Vivienne said. “Let’s just sit here for a moment. And then you might walk me back to my quarters.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the Bull said obediently, but not without feeling. “Can do. What’s it like? Dreaming, like you guys do?”

“I wouldn’t begin to know how to explain,” Vivienne said.

“Nah,” Bull murmured. “Guess not.”

2.

It was some time past two.

Vivienne gracefully descended the stairs from the upstairs quarters, making her way down to the main hall, and at a sound in the corridor, she turned her head.

“Madame de Fer!” said Solas, stepping toward her. “Might I ask your assistance for a moment?”

Vivienne arched an eyebrow. Solas seemed exerted, his cheeks slightly flushed, and he saw the haughty amusement in her face.

“Very well,” he said sharply, irritated. “I will—”

“I didn’t say no, darling,” Vivienne said, not bothering to keep the condescension from his voice. “If you’re truly so desperate for my assistance, I am happy to lend a hand.”

Solas hesitated, scowling, but then he led the way down the corridor, and Vivienne saw one of the serving girls, young Shani, laid out on the chaise long, a cold sweat plain on her face, hunched over slightly. She was clutching at her ankle, which was bent at a wrong angle, and Vivienne let out a low sound of disapproval, glancing to the doorway of the servants’ stair, where she’d plainly slipped on the stone.

“Madame de Fer is going to hold your hand,” Solas said gently.

“Really?” Vivienne demanded. “Is that truly what you—”

“Unless you wish to set her bone in place,” Solas said, and Vivienne swept past him, moving to sit beside Shani. She was a clever girl, Vivienne knew, intelligent in a way a lot of the servants weren’t, but with that curious quiet a lot of elves had. Shani never made eye contact with humans, Vivienne included, and she voiced no irritation when Shani lowered her gaze, staring at her own knees instead of Vivienne herself. A silly little phobia, really, one that she ought get over, but…

Shani’s hand was warm in Vivienne’s, and Vivienne could feel her shaking.

“This won’t hurt,” Solas said delicately, lifting her skirt only to the knee and folding it delicately over, not baring any more of her skin than he had to, than was proper. It was strange – a lot of the servants rather loved Solas, the elves, anyway. Vivienne had no doubt several of them had tried to charm their way into his bed before, but Solas, by all accounts, was content to remain alone.

Vivienne watched the blue-green glow of his palms as he drew magic into them, and no matter his chaos on the battlefield, Vivienne knew that he excelled at restoration magic, was always happy to watch a master at work, no matter how badly dressed and ridiculous he might be.

Shani squeezed Vivienne’s hand very tightly, gasping as the glow settled into her leg, but then she relaxed, and Solas reached up, gently touching the girl’s forehead, drawing a little of her fringe back. He was almost paternal with her – with a great many of the elves.

“There,” Solas said gently. “All fixed. Go straight to your bed, lethallan. You need to rest.”

“Thank you,” Shani said. “Lethallin. Madame de Fer.”

She moved on shaking feet, and Vivienne watched Solas as he rubbed his fingers against one another, soothing them of the excess magic that crackled on the skin.

“What is it, Solas, that that means? Lethallin? Isn’t that what you call the Inquisitor?”

“Friend.”

“The servants call you friend?”

Solas’ expression was so dark as to wither, his lip almost curling, and then his expression was schooled into one of cold neutrality, and he turned his face away.

“My thanks for your assistance,” he said without emotion.

“Curious that you should ask me,” Vivienne murmured. “When you have so little respect for me. To trust me to hold your friend’s hand.”

“I do not lack respect for you,” Solas said. “I loathe much of that which you say, Madame de Fer, and disagree with you on a variety of points, but that is not to say I do not respect you. You are strong, you stand by that which you believe in, and in your own way, you care for those beneath your charge. You are not so selfish as you might appear, at first glance. This is something to be admired.”

Vivienne was, to her frustration, rather caught off guard.

“You do surprise me, Solas,” Vivienne murmured, and Solas shrugged his shoulders, moving past her. He smelled faintly of samphire, and she wondered if it was a real scent, or merely a Fade-ghost clinging to his clothes.

3.

“Madame de Fer,” said the ambassador softly, reaching up and rubbing sleepily at her eye, and Vivienne couldn’t help but find it rather sweet, how plainly sleepy she was, how tired. She had a mug of cocoa in her lap, held loosely in the other hand. “You cannot sleep?”

“It’s of no consequence,” Vivienne said mildly, passing the ambassador by and moving further into the great hall, where Dorian was silhouetted against the open doors. He was leaning on the frame, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, and she moved slowly toward him.

“My dear Vivienne,” he said softly, turning to meet her gaze. “You’re still dressed – have you not yet laid yourself down to bed?”

“It’s been a long night, my darling man,” Vivienne said, delicately shrugging her shoulders. “I’m hardly the only one in this castle to have weathered a sleepless night. What is it that keeps you awake?”

“Oh, you know,” Dorian said, waving a handsome, well-manicured hand. “Homesickness, that’s all. You’ve never been to Tevinter, have you?”

“No,” Vivienne murmured. “Won’t you tell me?”

“In Minrathous…” Dorian sighed, his eyes fluttering closed, and Vivienne looked at the kohl he painted on his eyes every morning, all the better to bat his eyelashes at any strapping man he saw. “The buildings are so incredibly tall that you feel you are looking up to the sky itself when you walk amidst them, their spires shining gold on moonlit nights. The stone shimmers, and that stone is so ancient, but so too are the cobbles under your feet, laid brick by brick a thousand years before your most distant forefather even drew in a breath. And the magic in the air, oh, Vivienne, it paints every colour of the Fade upon the sky itself, so that sometimes you can hardly tell if you’re waking or dreaming.”

Dorian opened his eyes, staring down the steps at the grass before the hall, his lips twisted in a small frown. “But there are the slaves, of course. Sometimes, blood flows in the gutters. The screams—” He inhales. “I want to go home. And yet, now I’ve left, I know I will never see it the way I once did. The home I knew is gone from me now – the scales have been lifted from my eyes.”

Vivienne was silent, and Dorian shook his head.

“My apologies. The long night has left me maudlin. Good night, Madame de Fer.”

“You’re going to your bed?”

“My bed?” Dorian repeated, and he laughed. “Maker, no. I’ll work myself to exhaustion in somebody else’s.”

She watched him walk across the yard, with purpose, toward the Herald’s Rest.

She wondered if it had occurred to him that she might miss home too, and then dismissed the thought as idle nonsense.

4.

“Hey, Iron Lady,” Varric said quietly, looking up from his writing desk. “Do you ever sleep? Servants say you’re pacing around at all hours.”

“When the mood takes me,” Vivienne said, smiling coquettishly. She was far too old to be a coquette now, of course, but that didn’t matter with Varric – he smiled right back, and she saw the fatigue in his eyes, just like hers. “Do you miss your darling, Varric, when you’re with us at Skyhold?”

It was the sort of question one could never ask, if one was playing the Game. It was too revealing, too obvious, too plain, but Varric did not needle at the point, because he did not play the Game himself. He merely narrated from the sidelines, and found himself content in that – but she knew already, from the soft-voiced tales of Kirkwall he told by the fireside, that he did not write everything down.

“You mean Bianca,” Varric said, “or Hawke?”

How kind of him, to respond to a question painfully revealing, earnestly asked, in precisely the same vein.

The two of them stood in the silence, looking at one another, and Vivienne wondered at the narrative charm he no doubt found it, that the two of them should be kindred spirits, a powerful mage, an important player of the Great Game, and a charming dwarf, a writer of tales, a charmer of all he meets.

"You want me to walk you back to your room?" Varric asked. “I’ll tell you a bedtime story, if you want. Funny, dirty, sad – I got all kinds to put you to sleep.”

Vivienne felt herself laugh. It was a quiet noise, but it sounded loud in the room.

“Thank you, darling, but I think I’ll be alright. You keep your tales for your readers.”

“G’night, Viv,” Varric murmured. “My door’s open, if you need me.”

Vivienne turned on her heels to make her way down the corridor.

5.

She’d been tossing and turning for hours now. The bed felt too light and too empty, too cold to lie alone in, and she sighed hard, staring up at the ceiling.

“Still remember the sound of his breathing,” said the quiet voice next to her, and she looked at Cole on the corner of her bed, cross-legged in its bare feet, wearing its hat and looking rather like a very sad, unlit lamp. “It used to be so strong, so even, and the feeling of his body in the bed, strong, safe, not about sex, but about love.”

“And what would you know about love, demon?” Vivienne asked, archly.

“We’re going to Val Royeaux, tomorrow,” Cole said quietly. “You could come. No one would mind if you went… a week. Two weeks. You need to sleep, Ma’am. It wouldn’t hurt.”

Vivienne stared at it, the abomination folded neatly on the end of her bed, looking at her with its watery blue eyes, sunken in as though it were still starving in that hole its corpse had died in. Vivienne didn’t like the pull in her chest.

“Bull put you up to this, did he?”

“No,” Cole said, shaking its head. “I can’t heal your hurt. He can. For a while.”

“Get out, demon,” Vivienne said, turning on her side. “Go bother Solas.”

She felt his, no, its weight disappear from the corner of the bed. Stupid boy, she almost thought, but it wasn’t a boy, it was a demon.

+1

Vivienne laid awake for the longest time, her hand spread on Bastien’s chest. His breathing was laboured in a way it never had been, before, but he was still warm, still a peaceful presence beside her, and she closed her eyes, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his arm.

How long, now?

How long until his body gave out, and she came home to the estates to find Bastien dead in his bed? Worse, would he die in her arms? Would she have to watch it, calm him through it, soothe Nicoline, Laurent, Calienne?

“Darling,” Bastien said in a whisper, his voice hoarse and low, a struggle to speak with his parched throat, as tired as he was all the time. “Stop worrying. You’re home, with me. Let yourself sleep. I have you.”

“For how long?” Vivienne asked, knowing it wasn’t fair, not letting the tears brim in her eyes because she wasn’t a little girl anymore, crying at the unfairness of the world, wailing.

“Oh, my heart,” Bastien whispered, and he wrapped his arm about her back, even though she knew it must have been so hard for him to lift it, so exhausting, and she felt his trembling fingers on her lower back, heard the breath rattle in his lungs as he breathed in, breathed out. “So strong. You always glittered… The first time I saw you, it was like my heart leapt from my chest to meet you.”

“Shut up,” Vivienne said. “You need to sleep.”

“As you command, Madame,” Bastien murmured, and his dry lips brushed her forehead.

She slept on his chest, tried not to think of the cushion it had been before, not hard and bony and rattling quietly; she listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, tried not to recall how strong it had been before, not thready and weak; she listened to his breathing…

And oh, how soundly she slept.

[clockworkrobotic]

OOOOUUUGGGH H HERE IT IS

Thanks everyone for your patience while I took three times longer than intended <3

final word count 5234 ;;

I’m planning to write more but this ended up so absurdly long that I’m splitting it up. It’s a wild dumpster fire of headcanons and canon canons, ive tried to avoid exposition but if something doesnt make sense shoot me an ask lol

sort of vaguely around the end of BL1. Rowdy teenage calypsos. Dramatic backstory. Go

“Do it again.”

 He sits cross-legged, facing her, watching intently. Tyreen scans the grass for another flower and finds one, a small purple thing that’s braved the blistering Pandoran heat to spring up from the rare lush patch they’ve settled into this afternoon. Her brow furrows with concentration as she touches it and searches for the not-quite-uncomfortable breathless feeling that precedes what she’s about to do. In honesty, she’s not entirely sure what she does to trigger it, but if she focuses hard enough, it seems to happen eventually.

 Sure enough, after a few seconds, it’s wilting against her hand, the colour draining to a dull brown as the petals dry and shrivel and crumble to dust. Her chest feels hollow and then it doesn’t, her arm is tingling slightly as the pleasant warmth travels up and leaves her markings glowing a faint blue, and she feels content and floaty for a moment.

 Troy is watching in awe, and he reaches out suddenly and grabs her arm.

“These are getting bigger,” he tells her certainly, inspecting her tattoos, “they didn’t go around your hand the other day. D’you think they’ll keep growing?”

 Tyreen pulls back and looks at the ground. She doesn’t want to tell him that she feels them, at night, a scratching needling feeling drawing patterns down her body, and that as pretty as they are she doesn’t really want any more of them, they might make her face look weird. She also doesn’t want to tell him that he’s right.

“So cool…” He trails off, and Tyreen enjoys the quiet envy in his voice.

“I wish I could do other stuff,” she confesses. Troy shrugs.

“Maybe you can. But you haven’t found it out yet.” He pulls up another flower and hands it to her. “Do it again.”

* * *

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Dunno,” Tyreen answers honestly, “I’m fine, though, really.”

She feels more than fine. It’s the only use she’s managed to put her powers to - as long as there’s something small and alive nearby, she can draw its energy in place of food. Some days she’s been getting by just running her hands through the grass. When she thinks about it, she can’t even remember what being hungry feels like.

 The past few weeks have been a blur of trudging through the arid desert and scavenging abandoned camps and just trying to stay away from trouble. They had learnt early on to avoid active settlements - the local bandits didn’t take too kindly to thieves - but rummaging around in waste and ruin yielded little in terms of rations. Tyreen had pocketed herself a neat little pistol that she (thankfully) hadn’t had to use yet and Troy had secured some kind of baton that looked as though it might have once doubled as a taser, but other than that, resources are scarce. At least this way she can make sure he’s getting something close to enough to eat.

“You should still eat something, Ty. This can’t be good for you.”

“I’m not sure living in the desert is good for anyone.” Tyreen pulls her jacket up over her shoulders to shield herself from the heat. Little as she might physically need it, she’d kill for a cold drink right about now. Beer. She isn’t even sure what beer tastes like, but she’s parsed that it’s a noble option on hot days, and under the blistering sun came now to consider it some kind of ambrosia.

 Troy’s footsteps stop behind her and she turns wearily to look at him. He’s shielding his eyes and squinting into the distance.

“I think there’s a town up ahead. Let’s move.”

* * *

“It’s no use, Troy,” Tyreen groans, trying to hide how pissed off she’s really getting. Not that she doesn’t appreciate his enthusiasm, but there’s only so much she can put up with. She starts to pull her jacket back on.

“No, no, c’mon, just - one more try,” Troy pleads, darting forward to grab her wrists, “You heard the guy in the bar back there. He reckons you’re a Siren. There’s - there’s so much more you could lea-”

“Most powerful being in the universe were his exact words, Troy.” She slouches a few exasperated feet away and slumps onto a rock cluster. “Killing plants is a far cry from that.”

 Troy runs a hand through his hair and sits himself on the ground in front of her. “It’s not killing plants, Ty, it’s - some kind of energy thing, like you can - steal life force or something -”

“Troy,” Tyreen cuts him off firmly, then pinches the bridge of her nose and softens her tone, “I know you want to believe there’s more to this but - I think this might be it.” He’s watching her in earnest, but she can see the light die behind his eyes a little, and it hurts. “You heard him, too. Sirens are dangerously powerful, from birth, he seemed to think they’re killing their parents and levelling bandit camps before they can walk. Do you - don’t you think, if I could do anything like that, we would’ve found out by now?” She tries to offer a small smile. It looks more like a grimace. Troy opens his mouth to say something, and she cuts across him again. “I’m sorry, Troy. It’s a fairy tale. We’re stuck on the same shitty planet as everyone else.”

 Troy’s mouth is pressed into a grim line and he looks away from her. Tyreen gets up and offers him a hand. “Come on. It’s getting dark. I can start us a fire, at least.”

* * *

 They come for her that night.

 Tyreen is jolted awake by a hand over her mouth, and finds herself face to face with a masked marauder. Even with the ventilator covering the majority of his face, she can tell who it is.

“Hello, little Siren,” he croons, and the grin in his voice is sickening. She shrieks, one hand going for his face, the other scrabbling above her head for her pistol, kicking and howling muffled under his thick glove, trying to make enough noise to wake Troy up. The marauder is bigger than her by a lot, pinning her easily to the floor, and to her panic she can see two others advancing behind him.

“Never seen one in real life,” one of them comments, stepping over and kicking her gun out of reach, “Is she dangerous?”

“Nah, they told me everything,” says the one holding her down, and shifts to press his knee into her abdomen. Tyreen feels tears springing into her eyes. “She can’t do shit, least, not yet, anyway. Reckon we can fix that, though.”

 Tyreen twists beneath him and makes another lunge for the pistol. It catches her assailant off guard, and she manages to choke out a breathless “TRO--” before he regains his hold on her, hand twisting in her hair and slamming her face hard against the ground. She can taste blood.

 Several hands seize her arms and haul her to her feet, and there’s one covering her mouth again. She kicks frantically at them, feet slipping against the dusty earth floor.

“Come on, sweetheart,” is the rasped attempt at sweetness against her ear, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” And with that they’re dragging her from the shack, impervious to her muffled pleas and the tears streaming down her face.

 Through her panic and probable concussion, she tries to find some clarity, to find that little breathless inkling she feels with the plants. It’s a long shot, she’s never managed anything more complex than a small cactus before, but maybe Troy is right, she can do it, she just needs to -

CRACK

The hand around her mouth goes limp and after a couple of beats, she feels the weight drop behind her. The other two let go of her arms, instinctively leaping away from whatever has just felled their comrade, and for one absurd moment she thinks that she’s managed something incredible.

“TYREEN!” Troy grabs her arm and pulls her behind him. He’s holding a thick piece of wood that looks like it might’ve been Tyreen’s height to begin with, but now hinged almost completely in two, bearing thick, vicious splinters where it had collided with the marauder’s head.

 The other two have drawn their guns, but Troy is faster. Even at 16 he towers over them, wasteland-formed muscles knocking down both attackers in one swing of his makeshift weapon. There’s a loud BANG that jolts Tyreen unpleasantly back into reality and she dives for the dead marauder, seizing his gun from its holster and realising too late that she’s never done this before.

 Troy has one of the men pinned to the ground, and the other is taking aim again. Tyreen doesn’t think, just points and shoots, aiming as far from her brother as she can get away with, fighting the resistance of the trigger until she lands a solid hit. Silhouetted by the light of Elpis, she sees him go down, his fingers twitching as his weapon falls from his grip. Her heart is racing, vision blurred by tears and adrenaline, but she can’t risk him getting up. She can hear the panicked pleas choked beneath Troy’s fingers to her left as she shoots her attacker between the eyes.

* * *

“Can’t sleep?”

“Nah.”

 Tyreen sits on the mottled grass and watches the sun rise. Troy seats himself next to her, legs crossed like he used to when they were kids. Tyreen fidgets with the sleeves of her shirt.

“You can’t wear this, Ty, it’s a hundred degrees out,” Troy says, picking at the worn cotton. Tyreen pulls them further over her hands.

“I don’t want anyone to see them.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that, and the pair of them sit in silence and watch the orange sunlight wash over camps and communes as far as the horizon.

“We have to go,” Tyreen says eventually. Troy glances over his shoulder to where the bodies of the three marauders are still lying. It’s only been a few hours, but in the heat the flies are already buzzing lazily around the corpses, and a swarm of rakk are beginning to circle overhead.

“Don’t you want to get some rest first? Nobody’s going to find us up here for a while.”

 Tyreen shakes her head and lets the silence fall for a little while longer, punctuated by the occasional shriek from above.

“I’ve never killed anyone before.”

“Me neither.”

 They both ponder the absurdity of the situation. Pandora isn’t renowned for its peaceful living, its occupants consisting mostly of violent bandits, escaped convicts, and the mutated casualties of Dahl’s mining operations. Yet they’d managed to avoid confrontation up until now, and it had dragged them screaming from their cabin in the dead of night. Terrified as she’d been, Tyreen wonders why she isn’t feeling more, well, anything - she’s just taken a life, and she feels as indifferent to it as if she’d walked away from a bar fight.

“They deserved it,” Troy says suddenly, as if reading her mind. His voice is flat and stony, “They were going to hurt you.”

 Tyreen looks up at him. His expression is cold, and there’s something different about him, like a vengeful spark in his eye. She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder (well, arm) and then pulls away abruptly.

“Troy, you’re bleeding!”

 Troy snaps out of his reverie and glances down, noting the deep indent in his bicep where a bullet must have skimmed past him.

“Has that been open this whole time? Damn it, that’s hours old, we have to get that cleaned up-”

“Calm down, Ty, it’s just a gra-”

“It’ll get infected, Troy, you could lose your arm.”

“It’s fine, leave it-”

“Let me help you.” She’s standing now, furious tears pricking her eyes. Troy doesn’t say anything. She storms inside to get the med kit.

* * *

 They play it safe and don’t stop until they’re a couple of towns over. Despite the sparse population news had a habit of travelling fast here, and Tyreen is keen not to become the focal point of a planet-wide manhunt. She stays small, keeps her arms covered despite the sun, though thankfully they appear to be moving north and it’s getting a little cooler.

 Troy keeps an anxious eye on her. She’s growing skittish, recoiling inward whenever anyone passes too close, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. She refuses to use her powers any more and at night she insists on sleeping next to him, terrified of what might happen if they get raided again and she can’t wake him up in time.

 They’re sitting in a tavern one lazy afternoon when a conversation the next table over makes Tyreen freeze up. Troy hears it too; they’re talking about a local faction of the Crimson Lance, and the word Siren hangs heavy in the air. Tyreen cringes inwardly and looks up at Troy with pleading eyes, desperate to get as far away from this conversation as physically possible. Troy shushes her, trying to tell her without words that they can leave in a moment, but what they’re hearing could be important - Commandant Steele is old news at this point, but it sounds like they think there’s another Siren in the area. Tyreen pulls nervously at her sleeves. They can’t be talking about her, surely - she hasn’t said a word to anyone since they arrived. Low profile isn’t the word.

 Tyreen gets up suddenly, upsetting their glasses, no longer resigning to sit and listen. She grabs Troy with a shaking hand and all-but drags him out of the bar.

* * *

 Tyreen sleeps restlessly, tossing and turning uncomfortably, too hot and too cold at the same time, her brother’s protective hold the only thing preventing her from falling out of bed. She swears the ground is shaking like they’re resting over a tremorous fault line, yet the room and its contents remain still and Troy sleeps undisturbed. There’s a nagging urge telling her to head outside and look for… something, like a magnetic pull calling her out into the darkness, but she vehemently fights it, fear outweighing abject curiosity. When she finally drifts off, the sun is rising, spilling in through the frayed curtains, and she’s curled up in Troy’s arms, safe as she’ll ever be.

* * *

“Ty.”

Tyreen barely hears him. Her head feels like it’s full of radio static, has done since she woke up somewhere around 3pm. She’s focussing on just walking straight forward, though she’s not sure she’s doing a particularly good or convincing job of it.

“Tyreen,” Troy insists, grabbing her arm and forcing her to stop.

“Wuh,” is all she can manage, her hazy state making the sudden halt feel vaguely like whiplash. She presses her eyes shut and rubs her temples.

“Ty, look.” Troy is pointing behind her. Tyreen turns around and waits for her head to stop spinning.

“What ammi lookin’ at?” She mumbles after several seconds of attempting to decipher the blur that is her vision.

“Are you alright?” Her brother sounds incredibly worried and incredibly far away. She aware of his hand on her back, although she’s not sure that is her back, it feels thrice removed, as if she’s watching through someone else’s eyes and thinking with someone else’s brain.

“M fine. J’st dizzy. Water,” she manages, and fumbles around for her hipflask. The motion is disoriented, almost drunken, but she finds it and struggles with the cap for far too long. Troy takes it off her and opens it. “What’s am I lookin’ at?” She says again.

“Ty, you’re leaving footprints.”

“So? S’a desert.”

“In the grass.”

Tyreen blinks several times and tries to focus on what’s in front of her. It takes what feels like minutes before she can see clearly enough, and when she can, she’s not convinced she isn’t hallucinating.

 As far back as she can see, as far as they’ve walked - which is not the sandy wasteland she’d been picturing in front of her for the past couple of miles, but more of a, admittedly ill-attended, pasture - there’s a set of footprints leading up to where she’s standing. Where she’s set foot, the grass has wilted away beneath her, leaving dead foliage and dry earth in its place. Tyreen looks down to where she’s standing now, and sees it; around her, the verdure wavers and leans in, towards her, pulled taut by some invisible force, before drying up and shrivelling to straw. It seems to slow as the circle around her grows, but it’s happening alright.

“This is bad... issnt it.”

“It’s…” Troy’s tone does not match hers. He seemed elated. “Ty, it’s incredible. I’ve never seen you keep this up for so long!”

“Mm?”

“You’re getting stronger, I told you, you just need to practise-”

“Troy…”

“- We can find somewhere safe next time we stop, you can try it on something larger, like, an animal or something-”

“Troy, I’m n- not -”

He’s still talking, but his words are blurring together into one excited stream of noise. Tyreen feels a drop in the pit of her stomach, like the ground has just fallen away with her still attached to it. She tries to feel for the hipflask he’s still holding.

“Troy I’m going to throw up,” She manages, surprisingly coherent, and her brother catches her as she blacks out.

* * *

 Troy is holding a cold cloth to her face when she comes around. She’s lying on his jacket, but the ground beneath is hard and uneven, and the fabric pulls uncomfortably against her as she moves to sit up.

 Troy breathes a hefty sigh of relief and against his better judgement, gathers her into a tight hug.

“Oh my god, I was so scared, Ty, I thought I’d lost you,” he mumbles brokenly into her shoulder.

 Tyreen pats his chest gently. “’M fine. Can I have some space?”

 Troy gives her one last squeeze and lets go. His face is wrought with worry, and she can tell he’s been crying. She opens her mouth to say something, and he shoves her hipflask into it.

“Drink. It’s been hours.”

 She complies gratefully. He’s right, she’s completely parched, and the flask is empty in seconds. The awful fuzziness from earlier still isn’t quite gone, but she can see clearly again, and Troy doesn’t sound like he’s half a mile away when he talks. Tyreen takes a few deep breaths and scopes out the room.

  It’s not a room. They appear to be in a cave of sorts, the grey walls dotted with condensation that’s slowly crawling down the walls and keeping the air comfortably cool and refreshing. Up ahead, the entrance opens out to a deep blue sky dotted with bright constellations and a full, luminous moon.

  Troy is watching her. “I’m sorry, it’s not great, but it’s the only place I could find without anything…” He trails off, and she sees his jaw flex as it does when he’s nervous. “...Alive.”

 Tyreen blinks at him, at a loss. He doesn’t elaborate. She draws her legs up to her chest and rests her head on her arms.

“It’s a good thing you’re wearing long sleeves, anyway.”

 It’s then that she sees it. His shirt is torn - no, burnt, the edges frayed and blackened,  pulling away to reveal an angry mess of red, blistering skin dragging down from his shoulder.

“Oh my god…” she murmurs, reaching out to touch him. He flinches.

“You, um,” Troy laughs uneasily, trying to lighten the mood and failing, “You were a bit grabby.”

 Tyreen can only stare. She can barely remember anything before she passed out, only a static headache, and footprints, and Troy catching her, and now…

 Now her brother is recoiling from her touch, on instinct, like a frightened animal, and he looks as though someone has raked at his chest with a hot poker.

“Troy,” she says slowly, “What’s going on?”

 Troy runs a hand through his hair and looks at the ground. His shoulders are hunched, making it hard to see the scars she’s left on him, but she knows they’re there now, and she can’t take her eyes off them.

“I don’t know,” Troy answers honestly, after what feels like forever, “But I think those bandits were right.” Tyreen flinches at the memory. “I think I was right.” Troy looks up under his hair and offers her a half smile. Tyreen feels like her heart is in her throat, too anxious to smile back. “You can do more than kill plants.”

* * *

 Tyreen is glowing.

 Whatever cover the long sleeves offered her before is lost now. Through the tired grey of her shirt the markings weave a prominent blue around her arm. She wonders if they will actually burn through eventually.

 She walks a few paces behind her brother, hopeful that his hulking presence will shield her from view, or at least deter any would-be attackers.

 She wears gloves now, although she’s not sure it’s doing much. Foliage still wilts as she brushes past it, and it’s getting worse. She can’t control it. Her heart is hammering in her chest and she can’t sleep, so buzzed constantly that she can’t get a moment’s rest. The static headache is coming back.

 They’re back to raiding bandit camps, reluctant to risk running into any enthusiasts in towns, but it’s taking a toll on the both of them. Troy still needs to eat, and as they venture further into the tundra the camps grow populous and more secure. Few are abandoned and they’re more complex, civilised almost, rickety shacks climbing multiple levels up cliff faces, connected by makeshift stairs and ladders that can barely hold Troy’s weight.

 After a few close calls, they decide Tyreen should sit out the raids. Night is a lost cause, her luminous tattoos making her a walking target as they try to stealth through the camps, and during the day her vision blurs and vertigo hits her in waves.

 She resolves to sit outside the camp, standing guard, although there’s not much she can do if disaster strikes. At least Troy can find her easily in the dark. She learns quickly not to mention the growing collection of marks and scars he’s amassing with each trip.

“I think we should turn back,” she says one night, as they’re huddling together under blankets, deep in the safety of a cave. Tyreen can barely feel the cold but her brother is shivering (much as he tries to hide it) and she’s giving off enough body heat for the both of them.

“We can’t.” Troy’s jaw is clenched.

“We were safer in the desert. There’s too many people here.” Troy shakes his head. “Troy, come on, we can’t stay here. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“I’m fine,” Troy mumbles, breath rising in a mist before him, “Have to keep you safe.”

“Troy…”

 Her brother presses his eyes shut and shakes his head again. “It’s better for you… here.” He draws in a shivering breath. “Nothing… to hurt you.”

 Tyreen knows exactly what he’s talking about, and he’s right. As they wander deeper into the frozen wasteland the greenery is dwindling, giving her body less to draw on, the headaches becoming tolerable background noise as opposed to the constant, nauseating buzz when she was brushing through the foliage a few miles back.

 She wants to tell him to leave, that she’ll be fine here on her own; but she knows that’s a lie, and he’d never abandon her anyway. Troy is the only thing keeping both of them alive, and it’s killing him.

 She looks up at him, in time to see his head drooping as he drifts into an uneasy sleep, resting against her shoulder. She’s managed not to burn him since that fateful night in the nexus, but she also hasn’t managed to do anything else. For a few days Troy had insisted that she try channelling the energy she’s built up, convinced that that’s what had hurt him, but after several frustrating, failed attempts, Tyreen was starting to think they’d both imagined it. Maybe she hadn’t burnt him, just clawed at him a whole lot, enough to draw blood. That must have been it.

 She wishes she could sleep. Instead, the best she can do is curl up close to her brother and keep him warm until the morning sunlight seeps in through the windows of their makeshift home.

* * *

 Tyreen is sitting in the snow a few hundred feet outside of Troy’s latest charge when she hears him screaming. The sound reverberates within her, shaking her to her core, raw and visceral and unmistakably him. She’s on her feet before she can stop herself.

 He’s done this before… don’t get involved… it’s too dangerous… She stops trying to convince herself. She’s never heard that sound from him before. He needs her.

 Nobody looks at her when she bursts into the camp. They’re too busy huddling, watching, jeering at something she can’t see up ahead. The ground is spattered, warm and wet and soft with blood, so much blood. They’re at least a hundred yards away and the vicious spray reaches as far as where she’s standing.

 Tyreen feels as though she’s wading through water as she approaches the spectacle. She can’t move fast enough, terrified of what she’s going to see, but desperate to see it. The buzzing headache is creeping an icy path behind her eyes and obscuring her vision, her heart pounding so hard and so fast her chest hurts and she can’t breathe, her blood races like molten metal through her veins and she can see out of the corner of her eye the vibrant blue radiating from her, the only visual she can place as the static pulls a cloudy veil over her sight.

 She isn’t sure if the crowd parts for her, or if she pushes through them. The taunting subsides for a moment as her presence is noted, and then starts back up again, wordless yelling and mockery coming from all sides. Who is she? She shouldn’t be here.

 Tyreen doesn’t need to see clearly to know what she’s looking at. Her brother is slumped motionless before her, propped half-upright against something, his form through her murky vision painted merciless red, red, red. She can make out her hands in front of her as she reaches out to him, her palms coming away from his torso hot and damp. Her mouth forms silent words, begging him to wake up, fingers drawing thick red lines along his face.

“This is heartwarmin’, truly.” The voice comes from all around her, barely audible through the haze of shock. Tyreen gets unsteadily to her feet. The world tilts sideways. “But you can’t be here, darlin’.”

 Tyreen half-staggers around to face the speaker. He’s a blurry mess of colour and motion, and he’s pointing something hefty and probably dangerous at her. “You got ten seconds to leave, or you’re joinin’ him.”

 What happens next, Tyreen will later justify as self-defence. It’s a lie. She’s never wanted to hurt someone so badly. She wants him dead.

 The figure takes a step towards her, and Tyreen moves, hand outstretched. She thinks she hears his shotgun go off as she connects with his throat. Something surges within her, rippling through her body and charging the air around her with a terrifying electricity. Her vision goes white.

 Tyreen comes around to chaos. Her clothes cling to her uncomfortably, and she’s vaguely aware of screaming and raucous movement all around her. She looks down at her hands.

 She’s covered in blood. It’s coating her arms, her body, drying against her face, plastering her hair against her forehead. Through the vibrant red, her tattoos glow faintly, the light dying peacefully against her skin. The headache is gone.

 Heart in her throat, Tyreen reluctantly surveys the area around her and nearly passes out. The bandit who threatened her is gone, replaced by a violent spattering of blood and viscera. An amalgam of decimated organs and what might be clothing is dotted around, hanging from various buildings and structures, painting a few unfortunate nearby bandits caught in the splash zone. Only the gun remains intact, lying in the midst of the gore, seemingly untouched by any of it. It’s almost comical.

“Don’t touch me,” she says shakily, aware of one particularly brave or foolish bandit cocking his gun off to the side. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Tyreen casts a sweeping glance around her, and the remaining spectators scatter.

“Tyreen…”

“Troy! Oh my god!” Tyreen spins around and all-but throws herself at her brother. The colour is drained from his face, his skin cold and clammy, but he’s alive.

 She pulls away suddenly, remembering what has just transpired. “Oh, fuck, oh my god, I didn’t-”

“That was... awesome,” Troy manages. He smirks weakly, hand reaching up to grasp her shoulder. Hand…

“Troy, your arm!”

Troy follows her gaze to bleeding crater where his arm used to be. It’s been blown completely from the socket.

“Huh,” he mumbles. He moves to touch the wound, and Tyreen grabs his wrist. “That’s not good, is it.”

“Can you walk?”

“Th... think so.” Troy attempts to push himself up with his remaining hand. “No.”

“I- I don’t know what to do.” Panic settles solidly in her throat as the magnitude of the situation dawns on her. “Troy, y - you need a doctor.”

“Yeah…” Troy trails off, his eyes starting to drift closed.

“No, no, god, don’t go to sleep, Troy-!” Tyreen taps his face firmly, hands shaking. He doesn’t respond. “Stay awake, please, wake up, oh my god - HELP!” She scopes the camp frantically. “SOMEONE HELP ME!” There must be something, someone who knows what to do, a settlement out here couldn’t last this long without medicine…

 There. She can make out the crudely-drawn Aesculepion hammered into the ground a few hundred feet off.

“I’m gonna be back soon, okay?” She presses her forehead to her brother’s, fighting tears. “I’m getting help.”

 She draws herself to her full height and takes a deep breath. Picks up the discarded shotgun with bloodied hands and marches towards the medical tent.

* * *

 Troy’s hand twitches lightly against hers. Tyreen springs to attention, the most she’s moved in two days.

“Hey,” she greets him softly as his eyes flutter open, “Don’t move too much. You’re in safe hands.”

 Regardless, Troy awkwardly tries to push himself upright, knocked off balance by the missing appendage. Tyreen pushes him gently back to lie down.

“You need to rest. Doctor’s orders.” She shoots a smile over to the far corner, where the medic is cowering, terrified. “Isn’t that right?”

“You’re not glowing,” Troy murmurs, his voice cracking slightly from the anaesthesia. He moves over like he wants to touch her. “I can’t feel my arm, Ty.”

 Tyreen brushes the hair from his face and smiles tenderly. “We can fix that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 Troy squeezes her hand weakly, too worn out to inquire any further. He mumbles something incoherent and sinks back into the mattress. Tyreen pulls the worn blankets over him, feeling real relief for the first time.

 It’s refreshing. Liberating. Nobody’s out to get them here, far contrary - the commune dwellers have proven quite eager to help her. For once in her life, they don’t have to run.

[crystalinn]

I haven’t posted about this here yet, but boy howdy has my life been A Mess™️ of late.

TW: medical talk, high stress situations, mentions of blood under the cut

This is a very long post, so a mild TL;DR: ma’s sick and this is me for eternity now (loud noises in video): 

Picture it. November 10th (ish. Time is hard.). The motherbeast came down with a case of viral bronchitis. She got a few days off work to recover. 

A couple days pass. She went back to work. Her manager sent her in the cooler for two hours. 

An immediate downturn ft. a fall out of bed that took 45 minutes to fix, heavy panting, confusion, the whole lot. She went to the Express ER. They said “oh hey, your viral bronchitis has become full blown pneumonia. You’re goin’ to the Real Hospital™️ for two days. See if you respond well.” Turns out, she did, at first. 

About a week or two of what seemed like solid improvement all came crashing back down when her return to work arrived. She went back to work... or tried to. She went to step onto the curb and gravity said no. She faceplanted the pavement, and the ambulance was called. A thorough concussion check later, and her manager drove her and her truck home. The next day, she went back to the Express ER, and they said “oh shit, your lung xray is worse than last time. Back to the Hospital for you.” 

That stay was nine days long. She was tested for tuberculosis (which came back negative, thankfully), and had a PICC line installed. During said stay, she did get rather confused and agitated, as it was near the end of the month and the rent needed paid. She called me in the middle of the night, asking me to move her IV... despite me being at home. So that was a thing.

After she came home on the 4th of this month (December), I had to start administering her PICC line antibiotics, every 8 hours. Did y’all know that cefepime (a bigboi antibiotic) smells like someone doing unholy things to eggs? Sulfuric smelling bullshit, that. Had some hiccups there, what with massive air bubbles in the line and getting the infusion orb stuck on the line. We were supposed to be done the 25th. Then she went to her new primary care doctor, and it was extended to the 6th of January, which h.

Anyway, fast forward to the 23rd. Mum was out with a pal, getting some groceries, and some Miralax ‘cause... y’know, and she fell on her ass. At this point, falling down is like a glowing neon red flag. She came home, was a bit wobbly, but was generally okay. Her primary care doctor called after the home health nurses stole some blood to tell her that her potassium levels are critical. A friend/my ‘adopted’ brotherbeast, Frank, brought her a fuckton of bananas that night. 

Now this is where it gets real fuckin’ spicy. The morning of the 24th, after we get done with the 7am orb, I gave her a dose of Miralax. She was fine, until the 3pm orb, when severe gut cramps showed up. Those lasted until about midnight when things... moved along. After that, shit went downhill fast. I put her to bed after orb times at 11 pm, and she kept waking up. As time went on, she got more and more confused. Like, she knew general things, in a kinda slow way, but she could not follow directions. On the morning of the 25th (fucking Christmas.), things had reached its boiling point. She was very confused, unable to focus, slurring words. I rang up a friend, Sandy (who has been a massive help this whole time of Fuckery), to get her to the ER. This triggered a complete meltdown. It took both of us to get her out of her chair, not to mention the sudden burst of confused crying and begging not to go. 

We finally managed to get her there, and the ER’s like “yo this looks like a stroke, so we’re gonna keep her, do an MRI or three, and get back to you.” Turns out she was very dehydrated, currently has a UTI, and is still a bit... shall we say, fucked up. But, the MRI came out clean, but there was some issue with the PICC with like, a blood clot, but they cleaned it out, so they let her go on the 26th. 

But just wait for it... I put her to bed pretty much as soon as she got home, ‘cause she doesn’t sleep in the hospital. Makes sense, right? I went to check on her at about 8, and she was unable to really comply with requests/commands/questions. I’d ask “what’s your name?”, I’d get her name (most of the time), but when I’d ask “when’s your birthday?”, I’d get her name again. Or the fact she lost her PICC line cap, and I’d ask her to hold the newly sterilized port so it wouldn’t touch anything, she’d say okay, take it, and immediately drop it. Repeatedly. 

I broke down whilst on the phone with my dad because everything has been too much of late, and eventually put her back to bed to wait for the 11pm orb. 

11pm rolled around... and well. I couldn’t get her to wake up. She’d react to me poking and prodding her by making noise and moving away, but she would not wake up. Not properly. So, I called the on call home health nurse to see if she could help, and she pretty much told me to just call an ambulance. Not wanting the expense because I live in Hell the US, I called my dad. He helped me try to wake her up over the phone, but she flat refused. I was left with no choice. So, I called the ambulance, and just before they knocked on the door, she sat up like “huh?” but extra confused. She almost didn’t go to the hospital because she said “nah, I don’t want to go” but one of the EMTs was like “nah, you gotta go.”

So, she spent about 8 hours in the ER, and they told me that they can’t keep her since she was mostly lucid, but they did float an Idea (a skilled nursing facility, at least until she got her ducks in a row) to her that was immediately denied, but with some prodding from me, she finally agreed. So they moved her upstairs from the ER to keep her until they can find a facility in the Blue Cross/Blue Shield network that’s reasonably local. The one that came to visit yesterday turned out to not be, and I’m pretty sure the dude kicked it back to the Case Supervisor to see if they can find another. But, after they moved her into her room, she’s cleared up quite a bit. 

She’s still a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, a bit unfocused, and can get caught out in the grapes mentally, but she has improved a lot. 

Oh, and another thing she’s been doing is fighting me re: eating since the first go around. Bread’s a texture issue, rice is hard to eat without teeth, and everything else “smells bad” (which, since she’s quit smoking as of that second hospital stay... I understand, but you gotta sometimes push past that.) I did manage bananas though. Thank fuck for those. 

But, back to the plot: today (the 28th) was a decent day. Much clearer, less starts and stops in her speech. A bit more focused. She didn’t manage to sleep last night, so she was kinda tired. Had another MRI, but we won’t know about that until probably tomorrow (the 29th). Maybe. Had some PICC issues, though. The nurse got the cefepime running just fine, then mum had to use the bathroom, and when she came out, the machine started screaming bloody murder. After that, the nurse came back and tried to flush the line, since the cefepime was unable to run, and when she took the syringe off, the saline shot right back out... which ain’t supposed to happen. Hit me, the nurse, mum, the bed... probably got the windows too. So they’re working on that, and hopefully they figure it out.

Had my own woes at the hospital today, too. The sole of my boot fell off, so my ride/friend/adopted sister?, Sandy, went to walmart and got me some Heavy Duty Superglue, which I got it about half way stuck before we had to leave... then when we were pulling into the parking lot at home, the nurse in charge called to ask some questions about the PICC, the antibiotic, how long it’d been there, how long she was supposed to be on it, the pharmacy’s number, all that. So I went to get out of the car, my coke bottle fell out of my pocket, started rolling under the car, and I overextended. Fell right on my knees. They are not happy. Took a hot minute to get my dumb ass off the ground, without hurting Sandy, who is like 5′2″ and v smol. I am 5′6″ and... decidedly not. Plus the bonus rain.

UPDATE 12/29/2019: the diverticulitis has made a reappearance. It’s like everything is just It’s free real estate.

UPDATE 12/31/2019: Around 2 am this morning, she managed to roll out of bed and whack her head pretty good on something. They did a CT scan, and it came out clean. No concussion. However, now she has a sitter/keeper/minder to make sure she doesn’t do it again. It’s a good thing the nurses heard her fall, ‘cause despite being armed, the bed alarm didn’t go off. I know of all of this, ‘cause the hospital called me at 3 this morning, and boy howdy that’s a gut drop, let me tell you. But, better a CT ride and a bump on her noggin vs. the alternative. Sure is one thing after a-fucking-nother, ain’t it though.

UPDATE 1/1/2020: 2019 keep your problems challenge: she's had a major mental shift again, and now she's really groggy, really confused... So the hospital moved her to the ICU and called me for consent on a spinal tap, just to make sure they're not missing anything. Other than that, they've done x-rays and another CT, I think to check her spine, hips, the one leg she's been having issues with. The doctors also think that it may be the cefepime causing this altered mental state, and after doing some digging, boy howdy I sure believe it. Cephalosporins are some nasty fuckers.

So! That’s been my month and a half! I’d like to take a break now, please!

EDIT: Further updates found here.