#the robe but i will have to stop the quilt at some point

[arsenicflame]

so, with my weekend unexpectedly free, i think im gonna have some time to start a new project this weekend- but im not sure which way to go, so i am once again bullying you all to help me decide

the break up robe:

i have preeeeetty much everything i need to finish this project, or at least get quite a way in- its gonna be the harder of the two options as i have to (mostly) make the pattern from scratch so i dont expect to get much past the mock up stage this weekend, but i think once im started, i might be able to do bits and pieces in a spare hour over the week.

im quite looking forward to this, its far more in the comfort zone of things ive made before, but it also has its fair share of new techniques to keep me thinking! i expect this is gonna be a semi long project, so progress will be pretty slow but hopefully steady

also this project is the same velvet as the skirt i was making, so im expecting the same technical issues as that (ie. it is velvet and velvet is evil) and the lining is probably just as evil in the exact opposite way... so.... fun..... :)

the lighthouse painting quilt:

i am VERY excited to work on this one right now, however im not sure i actually have enough colours to make any meaningful progress on it. its gonna be an easier make (i think), i already have the pattern prepped, so i should be able to get right into assigning colours to sections and cutting them out- however if i am missing colour sections from my plan, im gonna run up against being able to do any actual sewing- i might be able to get the land and lighthouse done, but the whole background could be pretty much pointless to start when i cant do 90% of the seams.

im not sure if its worth starting any of it when im not sure when ill be able make the next jump in progress (and im worried when i get other colours i might want to move things around), but on the other hand it /could/ be good to get started on some of the prep work so i dont have to do it all in one hit when i just wanna start on the actual project.

[a-flickering-soul]

How I Stopped Worrying And Learned To Love Bones: The Harrow Cosplay

Or: I felt like doing a little writeup of the making of my Harrowhark Nonagesimus cosplay because I worked hard on it and this is also basically the first cosplay I actually completed. And I'm also just very proud of it.

I knew from the start I wanted the silhouette to essentially be a triangle, since I deeply believe that Harrow in full vestments is like a little walking cone. This is also deeply influenced by the many years I spent in church choir wearing those dinky little robes.

The first thing I figured out was the headpiece. I knew I wanted the hair to be covered (both in a religious way and also so I wouldn't have to wear a wig), but when it comes to hair coverings, there's a lot of ways it could go. I initially considered mantillas, to go with the whole Catholicism of it all, but unfortunately I was possessed with the spirit of half my ancestors and decided to drape a scarf like a dupatta (I considered making maang tikka to go with it, but had a hard time with the logistics of that). I found a drapy, thin black scarf at a thrift store and held onto it for a while. You can tell from the picture that it's pretty sheer and also a good length.

I szuszed it up by hand-stitching some white lace to it (since I'm very taken with the idea of the Ninth producing lace like all good nunneries did), as well as some seashell beads in a suitable bonelike color and these very cool tiny silver skull beads. These are only on the front of my scarf as a nice little decoration.

For the rest of the jewelry, Sculpey really came through. I used it to make some (outsized) teeth to create a rosary, along with some very cool volcanic rock beads. Individually knotting each bead and tooth was a huge time sink, but definitely worth it visually. Nine teeth for each of the houses.

I also made some bone bangles out of Sculpey (although this was towards the end of things when I was kind of losing steam).

My metamour @benthicbimbo was fucking amazing though and literally?? made thee most beautiful phalanges choker out of Sculpey and velvet ribbon and they're weathered and textured so beautifully and it's such a wonderful piece I genuinely wear it around places quite often.

And because they're incredible they also made these beautiful faux earrings for me that I tragically forgot to wear during Halloween but do look genuinely stunning!!! Like what!!!!!

For the big layers, I genuinely got the best luck at Goodwill in one fell swoop and I have no idea how I got this lucky. The dress is Shein (and once you touch it that fact is very obvious) and the overcoat is a CQ by CQ trench coat someone didn't want anymore (sans belt). These combined with the dupatta really solidified the silhouette and both the pattern of the dress and the brocade on the overcoat really were exactly what I was looking for and it was a sheer stroke of luck that I found both of them in one go.

And now, the big boy: the ribcage corset. I wrestled with this thing for what felt like ages and I'm decently pleased with it, but I definitely have plans for improvement. I started off with a wire frame just to see what kind of shape I wanted-- I took inspiration from the book cover, but slutted it up a little with the titty cups because I felt like having fun. This was made with floral wire and duct tape.

Once I had it to a point where it was reasonably symmetric and fit to my body, I added a very thin layer of quilt batting. The goal of this step was to add bulk without weight or necessarily a gajillion layers of plaster or paper mache. As a friend of mine described it, it looked like low-poly gore.

From here, I added two layers of paper mache since I really wanted it to be rigid-- I did not want this to flex with me as I moved or really flex at all. I wanted to really sell that this was made of bone.

It was at this point I realized I fucked up enormously because the bottom was very asymmetric and I never did a final fit to myself, but it turned out okay anyways, especially combined with the overcoat. I slapped a few layers of acrylic paint over it and used a black ribbon to just tie it around my back-- it was going to be covered by the overcoat anyways so I didn't think too hard about that part.

And that's pretty much it! The black leather gloves are my usual winter gear, and the shoes are my everyday officewear black heels. The face paint design was a mix of the book cover, some fanart I'd seen, and some mockups a friend of mine made for me.

Overall, I had a ton of fun putting together what I feel like is my first con-worthy cosplay, and it was a massive upgrade from last year's cosplay. I'm not 100% satisfied with the ribcage-- I believe I can do better-- but this method was pretty solid (I'd recommend overestimating spaces between ribs though when making the frame). The face paint also wasn't my best work-- thick cream paint is a huge bitch to work with and I didn't have any brushes, but it got the point across. Either way, this cosplay was enormously fun to put together, actually quite comfortable to wear and move around in, and very satisfying to look at. As a reward or perhaps punishment for reading this far, a mandatory couples' cosplay with my beloathed Gideon (my dear @laserlesbians). Happy belated boneday!

[youhideastar]

Fit for Purpose Deleted Scenes III: the Final Sex Scene

As promised, more Fit for Purpose deleted scenes! Other deleted scenes posts are linked in the masterpost. Today's batch of deleted scenes are all iterations of the second-to-last scene of Fit for Purpose, in which WWX and LWJ are in bed together with (at last!) the same understanding of what they're about to do there. I hope you enjoy! Uh, hopefully this goes without saying, but: NSFW text.

“Come here, Lan Zhan.”

Step. Hesitation. “Wei Ying. I do not expect—”

“I know.”

Doubt.

“I know, Lan Zhan. You—you don’t want this to be for you.”

“Mn.”

Step closer. “It’s not. It—Lan Zhan, the last time—the first time—I liked it so much, with you. More than I ever liked it with anyone else.” Beat. “It felt different, with you. After, I… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanting more. I was so happy when you asked me to sleep with you, and then when you just wanted to sleep…” He laughs. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you crushed me!” Beat. “It had never been like that, before. I never cared, before, if someone didn’t want to do it again. I never…”

Beat

“It was different, with you. Because you’re different. You mean something to me. You mean everything.” Raw, hoarse. “You said you don’t want to be to me what other people have been. Well, you aren’t. You couldn’t be. Not ever. You’re… you’re Lan Zhan. I don’t know any other way to say it than that.”

You can see that this version is very heavily focused on WWX reassuring LWJ that this isn’t going to be a repeat of their first time – that this is lovemaking, not a service. Ultimately, this thread has almost disappeared by the final version. The final version’s focus is on WWX acknowledging that fact to himself. But anyway, I didn’t like this version because WWX is making a speech. People don’t talk that way. It was too much. But the “don’t want to be what others have been” line repeating does survive to the final version.

When hai shi arrives, Wei Wuxian realizes he’s… nervous. They get ready for bed; Lan Zhan doesn’t try to persuade Wei Wuxian to stay up to his usual bedtime, so… he’s expecting it, too. They’re—not just going to sleep.

In bed, in their light sleep robes, side by side, warmth builds under the quilt. Lan Zhan lies still, just watching Wei Wuxian – watching as if he’d be perfectly content to do nothing but that. He doesn’t touch Wei Wuxian, doesn’t beckon him. Wei Wuxian’s nerves are singing, rising as the seconds tick by.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers. “Lan Zhan, don’t you want to…”

“Wei Ying knows what I want,” says Lan Zhan, low. “But I do not know what Wei Ying wants.” He hesitates. “Wei Ying is accustomed to… providing a service. I do not know if he enjoys such acts, when free of—expectation. Assumption.”

“Of—” Of course I do, Wei Wuxian starts to reply. And he thinks it’s true. He thinks it’s true. But he never had the chance, before, to find out. Still. There’s one thing he’s sure of. “I don’t know about other people,” he admits. “What I would want with them. But it doesn’t matter. You’re my mate, and I want you,” he says. “I’ll like it, with you. I know I will.” He takes a deep breath. If Wei Ying wishes to be intimate, he need only ask. “Please,” he says. “Lan Zhan. Please. I want to, with you.”

The final version begins in medias res, with them already in bed, but as you can see, this version got some mileage out of the sizzle of sexual tension beforehand. The focus of this version is again on reassuring LWJ of WWX’s sincere sexual interest in him. One thing I like about it is the surfacing of the question of whether WWX even likes sex—but LWJ should already know that WWX is attracted to him, because there’s a whole other scene about that, so ultimately this was redundant.

“Lan Zhan, aren’t you going to…”

“If Wei Ying wishes to be intimate, sexually, he need only ask.” Beat. “Wei Ying need not ever ask,” Lan Zhan says, holding eye contact. “This is enough. More than enough.”

“Oh.” Beat. “I… but isn’t that—” the point, he almost says, the point of us being mates now, but—

It’s not about what someone can do for you. You love them just because.

“Right,” he mutters. “Ah, Lan Zhan, this will take some getting used to.”

“Mn. Then we will wait.”

“No, Lan Zhan, I—I don’t want to wait.” Wei Ying need only ask. He takes a deep breath. “Lan Zhan, I… want you.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, can we—ah, Lan Zhan, don’t make me say ‘be sexually intimate,’ why do you have to put things in such a formal way?”

“It is clearer,” Lan Zhan replies, with a twinkle in his eye that means and also to mess with you.

I love the final beat of this version—I feel like LWJ would get a lot of amusement out of watching WWX squirm while saying “I want to be sexually intimate”—and I also like that this version has LWJ acknowledge that he would actually be totally fine with not having a sexual aspect to their relationship at all. But this is a ton of words that don’t actually get them any closer to having sex, and it would have made the scene so long, which would have created Return of the King Multiple Ending Syndrome. 😂 It needs to be clear that we’re in the descending action and energy phase of the story.

Ask? That’s not how it works, Wei Wuxian almost says again… but he remembers what Lan Zhan said in reply to that last time.

I do not wish to do what others have done. I do not wish to be to Wei Ying what others have been.

Beat.

“Lan Zhan.” A whisper. “Lan Zhan, I—I want you.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan reaches for him, draws him close.

“I’m so—ah, Lan Zhan, I’m so nervous, it’s so stupid!”

“Not stupid.”

“I feel like I’m so experienced, but I’m as new as you are, when it comes to…” He shrugs.

“Lovemaking.”

Beat.

“Yeah,” says Wei Wuxian, quiet. Not a service provided, or a practice session. Love.

“We will learn together.”

Wei Wuxian smiles. “Yeah.”

We’re getting closer! We’ve got the nerves, and the acknowledgment that this is a new experience for both of them, and WWX comparing and contrasting what sex has been before with what it will be now. But no way WWX just announces, “I’m as new as you are!” That whole line is so bad, I’m embarrassed. In the final version, WWX starts by denying that proposition, and only admits it after LWJ lovingly challenges that denial.

“I know you don’t expect that.”

Lan Zhan draws in a breath and holds it – tense, unsure. “Before…”

Ah. Wei Wuxian winces. Yes. Before. When Lan Zhan offered himself, body and heart, and Wei Wuxian left the bed laughing as if it were nothing. A service rendered.

But he knows better now.

He shakes his head and repeats, “I know, Lan Zhan. You—” How had he put it? “You don’t want to be to me what others have been. Right?”

Lan Zhan nods. His hands rise to splay across Wei Wuxian’s back, holding him close, blazing hot through Wei Wuxian’s thin inner robe.

“You aren’t. You couldn’t be. You weren’t, even then. You’re Lan Zhan.”  Kiss. “I didn’t understand why it was better with you than it had ever been, why I couldn’t stop thinking about it, wanting it, wanting you, but I did, and I do, more than anything—”

Kiss.

They get closer.

A regression to the first version, above, but WWX’s dialogue is at least shorter – I wouldn’t call it a speech anymore, thankfully. I really wanted to tie up the loose end of how hurt LWJ was by WWX’s misunderstanding of their first time together, but I already knew I was going to have the “you bit me on purpose, for real, didn’t you?” conversation later on, and that covers much the same ground. It’s still unnecessary to hash out WWX’s attraction to LWJ, because both the reader and LWJ are aware of the basic strokes there.

And then we have this lil’ baby draft, which finally put me on the right track: bringing the “Wei Ying is made to be loved” line back for this transition to the sex scene, and—this is key—realizing I wasn’t actually going to write the sex part of the sex scene. For a story that’s so much about sex, I was surprised to find that there was no need to describe the climactic (no pun intended lol) sex scene in detail.

“And I want you so much. I think I—always did.”

Wei Wuxian is used to being the teacher, in bed. Tonight, he is. And tonight, he isn’t.

He teaches Lan Zhan how to blah blah blah blah and blah blah and blah.

And Lan Zhan teaches him what it is to be made for love.

But back when I was figuring I’d give a play-by-play, I had two takes highlighting LWJ’s lack of practical experience and how it wasn’t actually a hindrance. This next bit is totally unedited, since I knew as soon as I wrote it that it was wrong.

Wei Wuxian says he wants Lan Zhan to fuck him.

Lan Zhan has salve, knows exactly what to do.

“How are you—so good at this?”

“Research.”

Wei Wuxian knows he has no right to be jealous, he’s the one who left and acted like he was never coming back, but—“Who were you ‘researching’ with?”

Lan Zhan looks amused. “Books.”

“O-oh.” Wei Wuxian feels silly, but also very relieved. “Sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. I like that Wei Ying is jealous.”

Now you know how bad my first drafts are. 😂 Sooo many clumsy lines there. Anyway, I then took a second crack at it, removing the jealousy aspect, which didn’t make a lot of sense to begin with, and focusing on why LWJ might undertake research in this instance.

“Wei Ying. What do you want?”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, are you really going to make me decide?”

“Mn.”

“Ah, well, it’s…” Blushing. Quietly. “I can’t—take you inside the way an omega could, but… there’s another way…”

“I am familiar.” Then, to Wei Wuxian’s shock and delight, he reaches under the bed and pulls out—yes, a bottle of oil.

“Lan Zhan!”

Avoiding Wei Wuxian’s eyes very cutely. “I undertook research.” More somberly: “I did not wish to force Wei Ying into the role of teacher.”

Ah. Yes, Wei Wuxian has played that role many times in bed. He wouldn’t mind it at all with Lan Zhan—it would be different, better, with Lan Zhan, because everything is—but he appreciates Lan Zhan’s forethought. “Lan Zhan is so considerate of his mate.” He likes calling himself Lan Zhan’s mate because Lan Zhan’s eyes go all fiery every time he does.

I think that’s very cute, actually, if I may say so myself. I would definitely have kept it if I’d decided to describe the sex in detail.

Finally, there’s this bit, which I wrote quite early on, when the story was going to discuss WWX’s history of sex work more directly. With sex work stigma being such a powerful presence in canon, it seemed like the kind of thing WWX would fear would be a dealbreaker (although of course it wouldn’t be).

WWX can’t meet his gaze. Lan Zhan, I—I’ve been used by other alphas. Omegas, too.

Mn, LWJ says, in a tone that makes it sound like I know.

Which he does, of course.

A—a lot of others.

Mn.

Beat. WWX waiting for Lan Zhan to ask how many. He doesn’t. WWX takes a deep breath.

For—for money, sometimes.

LWJ nods, and kisses him.

Against WWX’s lips, he murmurs, “Wei Ying has given much, to take care of others. I hope he will allow his mate to take care of him from now on.”

I hope you enjoyed! We’ll pick up tomorrow with a collection of more sexy deleted scenes, focusing on the question of LWJ’s rut, and we will learn that there is, in fact, such a thing as too much worldbuilding. 😂

[nastylittleghouls]

Needleworker Aether

After screaming with @amara-among-the-stars a while back about Aether being a passionate knitter, I finally gathered enough spoons to finish this.

First of all, he definitely makes blankets for all the newborn babies in the ministry. The parents also get a little plushie along with it.

Heads up: There are some spicy pics at the end.

Newly summoned band Ghouls get a welcome blanket according to their elemental assignment. He has a couple of them ready and if they get a knitted, sewn, or crocheted blanket, depends on what vibes the day leading up to the summoning gives him.

After a year or so, on their summoning day, if he manages to finish them until then, they'll be gifted temperature blankets. For those unfamiliar with the term: The idea of a temperature blanket is to crochet or knit several rows for that blanket each day for a full calendar year. The colors used each day correspond with the temperature outside on those days.

They all have an embroidered name tag (courtesy of Mist), removable to accommodate any change the owner might go through.

On both occasions, he infuses them with quintessence and weaves sigils into them. General ones (like protection) for the newly summoned, for the personalized ones based on whatever his observations tell him the receiver needs. *

A project that started as shits and giggles was the "plant pot sweaters". One time, while Aether and Mountain got high on tour, the earth ghoul lamented about his plants getting cold. Aether took that way too seriously in his state and made these the same night. Mountain thanked him in a very satisfying way.

When did this all start you ask? Almost right after his summoning. He learned it from no other than Sister Imperator. Knitting that is. Crochet came after he had quickly mastered the latter. Halfway through that came the quilting*.Alpha had started the tradition of giving a blanket to each new summon and Aether ran with it. He started with just scraps that the costume ghouls gave him, bits cut off in making habits and uniforms. Then he begged Copia to let him stop in all the small town quilt shops at all their stops and added in some bits of t-shirts Dew buys for him at gas stations.

Quilting escalated to patchworking, the latter being something that Dew kicked off with his old band shirts and Aether's frugal trait. Now he collects the old t-shirts and hoodies from every band ghoul and works them onto an enormous pack blanket that lives in the ghoul common room and is perfect for ghoul piles.

On tour, he occasionally took it upon himself to fix small rips or holes in his or his fellow ghoul's costumes and give the professionals more time to work on the important things like the Papa robes.

Now that he's not touring anymore, Mountain has made it his personal task to bring back ungodly amounts of (rare) wool for Aether. Dew, and Swiss rummage through the quilt shops for him, and Aeon has proven himself to be a great assistant for novelty t-shirt finding.

When he's not making beautiful things for the enjoyment of others, Aether knits thigh highs for Dewdrop to wear when he lounges around in winter. (Aether knows Rain is dying to own a pair too but wants him to ask for it) He loves how they look on him, especially with only one of his, for Dew, oversized hoodies. Easy access, if you catch his drift. Dew may or may not have developed a Pavlovian reaction to certain yarn types.

Cumulus caught a peek at some point and she designed some "loungewear" for the ghoulettes.

Swiss took that opportunity to be a menace and requested something as well. He even presented Aether with sketches of his vision and everything. The pack still isn't sure how they feel about it.

(*Quilter HC*s excerpts adopted and originally by @copia-mpreg, used with permission)

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Okay so Convenience request? Do they have kids? Will there be little Bruce’s running around the tower at some point? If so, could you please write when they find out they’re pregnant! I have a feeling Bruce would panic but be would be the most amazing dad

Word count: 609

A/N: Hope you like it!!! I have a few more requests along the same lines as this, so this is just them finding out. I'll use the others to go into more detail about them as parents. 😊 This can also be read as a standalone!

Series masterlist

Masterlist

“What are your thoughts on kids?” Y/N asked, her fingers playing with Bruce’s. They were lying in bed, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her.

He tensed up behind her. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” She kept her eyes on their hands, trying to keep her heart rate and voice steady.

“I’ve never really thought about it.” He furrowed his brow, turning his head to face her. “I don’t think it would really be compatible with what we do.”

Her stomach dropped. She sat up, one hand keeping the bedsheets against her bare chest as she ran the other through her hair. He could tell by the change in her posture that something was wrong. He sat up as well, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. He noticed the way she flinched slightly when his hand rested over her bare stomach and it hit him.

“You’re not- Are you-” He stuttered out, his entire body freezing up.

She nodded. “Yeah, I am.” She could feel the way he had tensed up and could not face turning to look at him. But she did move her hand down to her stomach and thread her fingers with his. She was only slightly relived when he did not pull away.

He let out a sharp breath. “How long?”

“About six weeks.” She finally forced herself to turn her head to the side and look at him. His eyes were wide and he staring blankly at the bedroom wall. “Bruce?”

He met her eyes. “I-I don’t-” He could not force the words out.

“It’s fine.” She turned away from him and pulled herself out of his grip. “It’s fine.” She could feel the tears burning in her eyes as she grabbed her robe.

“Y/N, wait!” He struggled to untangle himself from the bedsheets but she was already out of the door. He wrestled his legs into a pair of sweatpants, almost tripping over in the process, before chasing after her.

She pushed open the door to her old room and buried herself beneath the quilt. She curled up and tried, and failed, to stop the tears that were falling. She heard the door creak open again but she just pulled the covers up over her head. The bed dipped as he sat down on the edge, but he made no move to dig her out from under the covers.

“I have thought about it, being a father. And I want it, I really do.” He ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep his own tears at bay. “But I’m too… scarred. I wouldn’t be any good at it.”

The anguish in his voice stabbed straight into her heart and she pulled the covers back enough to look at him. His arms were resting on his knees, his head ducked forward. He did not move as she sat up and crossed her arms over her stomach protectively. “I think you would.” She whispered. “I wouldn’t want this baby to be anyone else’s.” She shifted forward and he looked at her as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. She laid a hesitant hand on his arm and he reached out and pulled her into his lap. He dropped his head forward again as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

“You-you really think I can do this?” He moved his hands to her hips, his thumbs brushing along the edge of her stomach.

“I do.” She smiled as he finally looked back up at her.

He let out a shaky breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She leaned down and kissed him.

Taglist: In the reblogs

[the-last-kenobi]

Number 11 for still alive Qui Gon and the disaster lineage? Hi I'm new

Yes!! I love the entire premise of this prompt. This is exactly what I was subconsciously dreaming of when I wrote that prompt.

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

This is the last prompt in my inbox! Thank you to everyone who requested, liked, reblogged, etc. <3 I’ll be back again with more prompts soon!

-

Over a decade ago on Naboo, during a galaxy-shaking crisis that would one day help propel the universe into war, a Jedi Master and his Padawan had both gone in side by side against a Sith.

They had emerged both hanging on to life by their fingertips.

Qui-Gon Jinn had taken a deep wound across his torso and hips, a wound that healed slowly and scarred deeply. He would never walk the same again, would never run, and would always be in constant, quiet pain.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had suffered a blow to the head and been deprived of oxygen for very, very, nearly too long — an attack that left him in and out of consciousness for weeks. The Healers declared that his mental capabilities were not compromised, but he was forever prone to debilitating migraines.

The Healers called each case a miracle.

The Master and Padawan didn’t care what it was. They were more preoccupied by the crashing relief that came with realizing that the other was alive, and would remain so.

When Jinn severed Kenobi’s braid, the training bond remained.

When Jinn took Anakin Skywalker as his apprentice, he assimilated Kenobi into the training as easily as breathing, and the boy had two Masters instead of one.

There wasn’t really anything to be done about it, and no one was really bothered in the first place.

Then, of course, Skywalker took on Ahsoka Tano, and sometimes it seemed that Jinn had three Padawans, or that he and Kenobi had two Padawans, or that Tano had three Masters. They were a unit.

Indivisible.

Perhaps they struggled with attachment — particularly Anakin.

But all Jedi did at some point or another, and his Lineage was careful to try and teach him when to relax, when to let go. To remind all of them of that.

They could be together, a family, without possession coming into the mix.

And all things considered, they did very well.

Very well indeed.

Vokara Che reflected on this as she hovered just out of sight. Perhaps it was wrong of her to linger here in the shadows of the quarters that Jinn, Kenobi, Skywalker, and Tano shared during their rare respites from the war, but she would stand by her reason — she came here to check on her patient, not expecting to encounter a crowd.

Last she had heard, the other three had been halfway across Coruscant guarding Senator Amidala.

Nevertheless, here they were.

There were soft sounds in the darkness, the thuds of boots being dropped lightly onto the floor, the whisper of robes, quiet breathing, a hissed hushing noise.

Vokara lingered in the doorway and watched as the three figures gathered around the bed where their fourth member lay, slumbering, beneath a single blanket.

“He must be cold,” said a low male voice. “We should get him more blankets.”

“Good idea,” said a younger male, and one of the figures shuffled across the room and began gathering up blankets and sheets.

“Should he be here?” questioned the only female member of the tribe, concern laced in her tone. “I thought he needed another few days in the Halls of Healing.”

A sigh. The deeper male voice answered, “You know he dislikes it there. I have no doubt he was released early on good behavior, with conditions.”

“Ohh,” said Ahsoka. “He’s shivering.”

Qui-Gon stooped down and ran a hand through the sleeping Obi-Wan’s hair. “Mmm. He’s in pain,” he said, and his voice carried an undercurrent of regret and worry that he did not bother to conceal from his youngest Padawan.

Anakin returned with an absolute mountain of blankets in his arms. He peered over them to look at his sleeping friend. “I don’t like the idea of just leaving him here unsupervised. You know he won’t ask for help if he needs it, he’ll just get up in the middle of the night looking for painkillers and pass out halfway across the room.”

“Will not,” mumbled a sleepy voice.

Qui-Gon chuckled warmly; Ahsoka whispered a joyful, “Master Obi-Wan!” and Anakin dropped the bundle of blankets on the foot of the bed and clambered right up next to him, stretching out casually beside the older Jedi.

“…what th’… fuck… are you doin’?” the injured Jedi yawned.

“He’s on the good stuff,” Ahsoka giggled, clapping her hands over her mouth.

“So he is,” agreed Qui-Gon. He leaned down indulgently and pressed a paternal kiss to the top of the reddish-blonde head, his tone endlessly fond.

“Ged’off,” commanded the drugged up Obi-Wan.

“No,” said Qui-Gon.

“You need blankets, Master,” Ahsoka said, picking up several and shaking them out, examining them in the dark. “You’re going to catch a chill.”

“Won’t,” Obi-Wan argued.

“Will,” she argued back. She joined Anakin on the bed and began spreading a blanket over Obi-Wan, who couldn’t do much to stop her and resorted to blinking at her owlishly over the top of his new quilt, the combination of his huge, offended eyes and his ruffled hair resulting in something borderline adorable.

“Qui,” Obi-Wan whined, and he reached out clumsily and tugged on his former Master’s sleeve like an indignant toddler. “They’re bossing me.”

“We’re all bossing you, Obi-Wan, you’re injured and you need care,” ‘Qui’ replied.

Obi-Wan harrumphed. He turned his attention the other direction and made shooing motions at the younger two. “Gedoff my bed. Go.”

“Your bed?” Anakin demanded, pulling a mock-wounded expression. “This is our bed now. Make room.” He reached over and grabbed Obi-Wan around the shoulders and dragged him a little closer, towards the right side of the bed where he lay squashed against the wall. Obi-Wan squawked indignantly, but Ahsoka was already diving into the spot he’d left behind and curling up against his other side. Without a word, Qui-Gon slipped in beside her, grabbing a spare pillow to place beneath her head.

Anakin reached down and dragged more of the blankets over all of them, and the four Jedi became one big bundle of warm blankets and slightly squashed bodies.

Vokara placed her fingers over her lips and found that she was smiling.

“Rude,” Obi-Wan huffed from under the blanket pile.

And then he rolled onto his side, draping an arm over Ahsoka’s shoulder as if to shield her from harm, and fell asleep.

The others quickly followed suit, and soon the rooms were filled with the soft sounds of deep sleep and the quiet noises of the Temple itself.

Vokara Che left as silently as she had come, assured that her patient was well taken care of.

fin

[oswaldsleftbicep]

Ok scenario : the bros sleeping with their loves

Question: Two blankets or one big for both?

By the way what do you think how do they sleep? Like he has wakes up at the slightest noise or he snores....

I hope your good and everything goes fine 👍🏻

how lucia, levy, & mefy sleep

i had so much fun writing these lol and sorry they're so short, if you want more just lmk :) i'm doing well tho, thanks for the concern! this semester's halfway over and i finally got a job which i'm super excited for. oh this is gn!reader btw!

edit: sjfsjkdf ok so right after i originally posted this i realized i read the ask wrong so i added an extra hc for each

genre: fluff, crack?

cw: none

Lucia

❧ he's totally a deep sleeper, like it takes a lot to wake him up, and he either sleeps like a rock or he's tossing and turning all night, no in between

❧ if he falls asleep on his back he snores like a madman so make sure he's propped up on a pillow if that happens

❧ he seems the type to run warm so i don't imagine he'd need several blankets, so just one for him and most of the time it ends up tangled up in his legs or halfway on the floor lol

❧ so pretty much if you want a blanket y'all should use two separate blankets, unless you're cuddled up

❧ one of the only ways to keep him lying still at night is to either have him sleep on top of you or have you sleep on top of him

❧ he has dedicated pajama sets but he prefers to sleep shirtless with just his underwear or long pants if it's cold

❧ he loves having a bunch of pillows on the bed, he thinks it makes it look so much comfier, but he really only uses one pillow

❧ he sleep talks but only if he's stressed or sick; if he's sick and sleep talking you'll hear the weirdest things

❧ he probably also had a sleep walking phase as a kid. i bet at some point the brothers all had to share a room for whatever reason, and the sleep walking and talking scared the absolute hell out of levy lmao

Levy

❧ he's a super light sleeper, super sensitive to noises when he sleeps and hates when anything wakes him up

❧ he falls asleep a lot in reading chairs and wakes up with awful neck and back pains it's why he's so grouchy lol

❧ he gets cold easily so he needs a lot of blankets, and he has a bunch of really fluffy and soft ones as well as a few heavy quilts; loves to cocoon himself in a blanket burrito, bonus points if you're cocooned in there with him

❧ so pretty much you wouldn't need to worry about having enough blanket for you, he has plenty to share

❧ he also has a bunch of pillows, like one to hug if he's in bed alone, a couple for his head, one behind his back if he's on his side; does he need all these pillows? no, but he likes to feel surrounded by that softness

❧ he probably tried out a sleeping mask but hated the feeling of it, he likes to open his eyes and be able to see

❧ has a fancy set of pajamas complete with fuzzy socks and slippers and a robe

❧ can't sleep on his back, he has to sleep on his side or stomach in order to sleep well

❧ always has to get up in the middle of the night to pee and he hates leaving the warm bed to go

Mefy

❧ an average sleeper but leaning more toward being a light sleeper, like birds chirping or a midnight thunder storm wouldn't wake him but a door slamming down the hall would

❧ only uses one pillow, it's pretty thick, not too soft, not to firm, just right to support his neck and head comfortably, and it's got a silk pillowcase

❧ as for blankets he probably adds and gets rid of them as the weather changes, like when it's warm he only needs one and when it's cold he uses like three; he keeps a chest at the end of his bed and it's full of blankets in case he needs any

❧ he absolutely has silk pajamas too, he likes how fancy and light they feel

❧ he used to use a sleeping mask as a kid but as he got bigger it stopped fitting him properly, so he got a new one but hated how different it felt so he just,, stopped using sleep masks

❧ he's used to sleeping in absolute silence with only the wind from outside making noise, so when y'all started sharing a bed he had some trouble falling asleep, but he got used to it after a bit lol

❧ he often falls asleep on his back and stays that way for the entire night without moving like he's dead or something, it's a wonder he doesn't get sleep paralysis

❧ so because of the fact that he stays so still and adjusts the blankets according to the weather, i'd say you wouldn't need to have your own blanket when sleeping with him, y'all can share :)

❧ he's also one of those people that can drink a whole glass of water before bed and not have to get up to pee until morning i'm jealous

[jay-and-dean]

Winter Cabin / Dean

By Roonyxx and Jay-and-dean

Pairings : Dean x Reader

Summary :  Dean is tired and grumpy lately, maybe the magic of a winter cabin and love can make him relax ?

Warnings : Fluff and Smut. A hint of angst and adult laguage.

Note : This is our third collaboration.

This is how it works : 

We wrote the same story, and we did together. I wrote Dean’s Pov and @roonyxx​ wrote reader’s Pov.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Wordcount : 5465

READ READER’S POV HERE

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

——————————————————————

DEAN’S POV

I look at the road, holding the wheel tight with both hands, a frown on my face.

           I’m tired. I’m actually exhausted but I won’t show it. My body can wait, and my mind should just learn to get silent.

           So when the woman I love asked me to get in the car, I just did, with little grunts and probably not much enthusiasm. But I did. 

           North. That’s where she wants me to go. North… Like it wasn’t cold enough in Lebanon right now, or grey enough.

           I have been driving for a few hours now, in that specific blinding white light of snowy weather, and several times I had to wipe the tears of a yawn off my face.

“You know I could have driven, Dean, right ?” she says, bending to see my face.

“And risking damages on baby” I groan. “No thank you.”

I know I shouldn’t talk to her like that, she doesn’t deserve it. Actually she’s the only one to never deserve it.

“I do have my driving licence” she says with a little smile.

How can she smile when I’m so mean ? Something is on her mind, it’s like she had been walking on eggs all day.

“Yes but the road is frozen, and she only listens to me.”

Saying that, I give her a look, and a faint smile, to apologize for my abrupt and unfair answer.

           Nothing goes right lately, nothing ends up right either. Nothing important goes as planned, and even the little things are going wrong anyway. Bacon burns, Baby has had a leak, glasses escape from my hands, I even hit my toe like an idiot this morning.

           Just a bad day in a long succession of even worse days.

“Turn left” she says pointing at the road I’m supposed to follow. 

“I know my right and left” I grunt again, pushing her hand from before my face. 

“Maybe, but you have the reflexes of a sloth today” she mocks me like she does when she’s trying not to get mad. “So I prefer making sure.”

Y/n doesn’t let me be mean to her, and she can get really impressive when she decides that something is worth getting angry, but she has such a knowledge of me, that she always knows how to defuse my gloomy moods.

           I turn left and wonder : Where are we going ? She told me not to ask, so I won’t insist, because I know that in the end, I will only find out when she decides so. 

“We’re almost there” Y/n looks around with an enchanted look. “Look at those giant pine trees covered in snow !”

“Mh.”

“Look at this lake !” she keeps going into raptures. “It’s like a giant mirror.”

“Mh” I grunt again. 

I would love to give her more than that, but honestly, it feels like my soul is sore.

           Nothing seems to ruin her joyful humor, she seems eager to find the place she’s looking for, kneeling on the seat to look everywhere, sometimes taking my cheeks in her hands to make me turn my head toward something, or putting an amused little kiss on my temple when one more growl leaves my throat.

“Yes ! It’s there ! Look !” she almost screams when a wooden house appears in the middle of the infinite white forest. 

“Finally !”

Getting out of the car, I look up to the little cabin. Its dark wood contrasts sharply with the blinding white of the snow, and I have to say, it’s pretty. 

           My eyes go from the place to her, wondering what she planned, but she doesn’t say a word, and just starts to take our bags out of the tunk, so I follow her, hoping I will find out soon.

           When I enter the place, I immediately have my answer. The room is so warm, so calm, that the air itself seems quilted with the softest pillows. The slightly orange lightning gives the place a mellow atmosphere and everything seems made to cuddle or out of cuddles.

           My tired eyes adjust willingly to the new, way softer, light, and I look around, impressed.

“Oh wow, where did you find this place ?” I ask Y/n, fond of the wide smile on her face.

“I have connections” she states, her enthusiasm radiating from her and finally getting to me.

I smile tenderly, not believing my luck. 

           She takes my hand and guides me upstairs, leading with a soft sway of her hips in the narrow wooden stairs.

           My breath gets stuck in my lungs when the little fairy lights decorating the place hit my eyes, the tiny room is almost entirely made of a giant thick and fluffy bed. It’s calling me, like a promise that the soreness of my body could be sucked up by the softness of this place.

           I walk to the bed and let myself fall in the middle of it, letting the silky covers hug me. Y/n joins me, her beloved smell perfecting my little nest. The light citrus in her hair and the comfortably familiar smell of her delicious skin make me hum slightly.

“Do you like it ?” she asks, turning to me to touch my chest like she always does.

“Yes” I answer with a little grateful smile. “It’s cute. Thank you, baby. I Think we both really needed a break.”

I take her soft hand and kiss it. 

“Yeah we did” she nods with her smooth relaxing voice. “We’re both tired, you more than me because you always insist on doing most of the work” she cups my cheek to feel the rough hair of my beard on her fingers.

I should shave. I didn’t even take the time to take care of me lately, and I have too, for her.

“You go change into something comfier baby” she says when I feel like I could fall asleep already. “I packed your robe and your hotdog pants” I can’t help but let my tired eyes linger on her bottom lip. “I’ll get the cocoa heated up downstairs, okay ?”

My smile grows. She, alone, can erase all the horrors with her love and her beautiful keenness to live.

           A few weeks ago, she talked about her love for winter comfort and laziness, I was too stressed out and told her I never had time for this… And here she takes me.

“You’re the best. I’ll be right down to help you” I say, forcing my body out of this mattress that is begging me to stay still, but she kisses my head tenderly.

“No need, baby, I got it under control” she assures me, getting up to leave.

Once in my pajamas and robe, I stand in the door frame watching her. She’s humming absent-mindedly while preparing this hot chocolate she only makes when she needs comfort, spreading the sugary smell in the whole cabin. 

           Unable to stay away, I walk to her and wrap my arms around her body to take a little more of this adorable smell that is so perfectly her and kiss her neck.

           I want her, I want to lay her down on that couch and ask her to welcome me between her thighs, but there is no rush, for once, and I should let her do her calming magic that is already working.

“You didn’t have to do all of this baby” I murmur against her skin. “But still thank you. I already feel a little more relaxed.”

She lifts her arms to touch my hair and I nuzzle more in her neck, hungry for her touch. How could I be so engrossed by everything going on that I forgot to cherish the more angelic than angel woman in my life.

“I know I didn’t have to but I wanted to do it” she says. “Do you want marshmallows, cinnamon, whipped cream or sprinkles on yours ?” She turns to see me and a wide smile appears on my face. “Okay all of them it is” she understands. “Get comfy on the sofa, I put a bag with Dr. Sexy MD DVD’s on the floor by the tv, you can choose which one you want to watch.”

Of course she brought this tv show to watch. I was always my no worry moments, and with all that stress lately, I’m two seasons late. I kiss her cheek and let her go.

“God I love you.”

When she joins me on the couch with a tray full of wonders, she takes one of the fluffy blankets and wraps me cautiously in it, like she wanted to overprotect me, then gives me the mug before snuggling on my side. I can’t stop watching her with an amused smile and, I don’t doubt it, all the love in my eyes.

“Are you comfy ?” she asks.

“Very comfy baby” I chuckle at how adorably caring she is and pull her closer.

Blowing softly on the too hot beverage, I dip my lips in a hum, eager to feel its taste. And when I turn to her to tell her how good it is, she laughs.

“What ?”

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose” she chuckles.

My hands are taken, one holding the mug, the other around her, but now that she says that, I guess I can see a white spot on my nose.

“Wait, let me help” she says, sitting up a little to kiss the stain away in a soft moan.. “Mhh delicious.”

I want her. I want to hear that moan when I lick her nipple, but now is not the time to get a boner so I look away.

“Oh you got twizzlers !” I widen my eyes. “When I was little, Sam and I used to do a competition of who could push it the furthest in their nose.”

I laugh at the memory of one staying half stuck in my brother’s nose. 

“Oh my God, and you ate it afterwards ?” she asks, I nod. “Oh that’s disgusting!”

“Hey!” I protest, unable to erase my smile. “You try to keep a seven years old entertained 24/7, you come up with some weird stuff!”

A little shadow crosses her face, I know that shadow by heart : My baby is always a little sad when I talk about my childhood. I told her a thousand times, that I didn’t mind anymore because I was happy now, thanks to her, and that was all that matters. But she always tries to give more, just like now, even if with her I already have it all.

She suddenly gets up and takes back my still burning chocolate, making me pout. 

“Come on !” she says, impatient.

“What are we doing ?” I try, but she doesn’t answer.

She’s putting on her coat, gloves and shoes in a hurry, so I look down at myself, wondering if I should change to actual clothes but as she already opens the door, I decide to only put on my jacket and my shoes.

She tugs at my sleeve until I end up outside of the cabin, boots planted in the untouched snow, freezing slow wind going through my thin pajama pants, right to my crotch.

“Why are we outsi-“ I start, but a snowball hits my chest. 

She wants to play…

“Oh you’re in for it now !” I scream, trying to look scary but her face is radiant with joy.

I gather the more snow I can in my bare hands and hit her chest, making her take a step back at the impact.

“Hey ! No booby shots !” she points her adorable gloved finger at me.

She squats to take more snow and close an eye to aim, right to my crotch. I cover it with cold redden hands and feel my cock protest at the feeling.

“Oh no need to get nasty sweetheart” I wink. “You’ll be needing this body part later on.”

“Okay, you’re right” she says and my impatience grows.

I will have her, I… A snowball hits my face while my mind was lost. She’s laughing hard, with this kind of laugh that’s a little frightened like children have when you run after them.

I wipe my face, tasting the clear water on my lips and feeling the snowflakes melt on my skin, then before she can move, I chase her, catching her with only three running steps. My arms carry her to put her on my shoulder and I quickly, but careful to not hurt her, spank her giggling butt.

“Hahahaha ! And you always say I can’t throw !” she says, strangled by a laugh.

I look around, wondering what to do with her, and decide to put her under the tree branches, shaking her to make everything fall on her.

“Aaaahh Deaaaaan !” she screams, now covered in white, but she grabs a handful of snow and crushes it to my head, making me hiss. “Karma !”

The snow slides down my neck and a piece of it falls on the curve of my back.

“It got in my coat !” I laugh, a little tense, shaking my body to try and get rid of the freezing feeling sticking to my skin.

She wiggles and her pretty eyes widen.

“AH oh me too !” she screams childishly. “Abort mission ! Go inside !”

She runs inside cutely, making me laugh even more, and throws away her coats and gloves. Her lips are a little pale and I can see she’s shaking. I take off my coat, but I’m frozen underneath it.

“I’ll get the fire started baby” I say, knowing we will need more to get warm again. “Take off your wet clothes if you wanna speed up the process” I say with a smile, walking to the fireplace.

While lighting a fire with the perfect wood already dried and prepared next to the fireplace, I listen to her saying the mugs are still very hot. It is a good thing, because I am freezing. 

She gives me the chocolate and I drink almost all of it in one go, humming at the sweet soft beverage covering the inside of my throat and making the constant lump in it disappear. 

The fire is quick to take and the beautiful flames add even more warmth to the room. My shaking and redden hands open closer to the fireplace and I moan in relief. 

I take off my robe, wet from the snow, and look down at the soaked fabric of my hotdogs pants.

“Underwear it is” I mumble, taking it off too.

“Come here, Dean” she calls me. 

When I turn to her, she’s wearing the grey sweater she stole from me a long time ago, even before we got together. It’s way too big for her and I smile at how cute she looks in it. She takes several huge fluffy covers and opens one for me.

“Let me burrito you” she smiles.

“Burrito me ?” I chuckle and walk to her to let her wrap it around me.

She doesn’t just put a blanket on me, she totally swaddles me in all the covers, tucking it in everywhere carefully. Once totally swathed in blankets and surrounded by pillows, I barely can move.

“My arms are stuck” I say with an amused smile, but all she does is create a hood with the blanket on my head.

“Burritos have no arms, baby” she states cupping my face to kiss me. “Your nose is all red, my poor Deanie.”

I try to get another kiss from her soft lips but she put them on the tip of my nose.

“I’m not a poor Deanie” I say with a low and deep voice. “I’m a hunter. I’m a warrior !”

She chuckles, taking a step back to look at me. That woman could do anything to me, I would let her shave my head if that could make her laugh.

“I need to take a pic, you’re incredibly cute like this” she says making me wiggle in my prison of comfort.

“No no. Don’t keep ridiculous photos of me” I protest.

She takes a pic, laughing at my exaggerated grumpy face, and comes sit next to me, snuggling close and wrapping her arms on top of all the rest around me.

“My baby… You’re not ridiculous” she states calmly. “Seeing you like this makes me happy.”

I don’t answer, but just shake my toes -the only thing coming out of the cover- toward the fire in a grunt, to make her understand I really can’t move. That makes her chuckle, and that’s exactly what I intended.

Then silence falls on the room. The cracking of the fire and the wood are so relaxing, just like the smell of her hair… 

After a few minutes, the cold disappears, and I even start to burn inside of the cocoon she made for me. I push the hood out of my head without using my hands and try to focus on the softness surrounding me. 

But my usual thoughts come back, and the second they do, they start to become louder than the calming sounds of her breathing and the fireplace, louder and louder, until I forget where I am for a second. Questions and regrets turn in my head, worry and reproaches I have for myself. 

And the exhausting stomach ache comes back. 

“Dean, you’re tensing again” she notices right away, putting a hand just where the hurt is like she was magic. 

“I’m sorry.”

I sigh, looking at the ceiling.

Outside, the weather changed, the blue sky became darker and snow started to fall heavily.

“You know you can talk to me right ?” she says with her head still on my shoulder.

I know I can, Y/n understands me so well, but bad habits are hard to get rid of. I’m just used to keeping everything inside until it eats me alive…. But I want to enjoy winter and cuddle with her, I want to learn how to let go. That’s the progress I made in my time with the woman I love : I’m willing to be better, to let her magic work on me.

“I’m not over Mary’s death” I exhale, terrified by the words but already feeling a relief.

Y/n lifts her head and looks at me deeply, pushing the covers a little to free my moves, and puts a hand on my heart.

“I know, baby. No one asks you to be over your mother’s death so soon, or ever” she says.

“I’m just… so angry” saying that, I feel my eyes burn with tears instantly, and try to swallow everything back.

“You have every right to be angry, Dean. Furious even” she won’t let me close that door now. “It is unfair. She was given back just to be taken again.”

“Why ?” I let a tear fall. “F-first dad has to leave again after only one day and now…”

She closes her eyes for a second, and I can see she feels at least a part of my pain. Her hand goes to my hair to stroke it.

“I… I just have so much a-anger” I repeat, feeling the painful lump in my stomach grow and grow like it was going to explode, but I can’t stop talking now. “I feel responsible, I feel h-helpless and… and… abandoned.”

The lump suddenly breaks and it feels like I can breath again.

“You’re not” she says, wiping her own wet eyes with the back of her hand.

She opens the covers and slips her body inside, against mine. I put my head in the crook of her neck, like I needed to hide after what I said, or just be as close to her as possible.

“It’s okay to be angry” her hand holds my head tenderly against her skin. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s not your fault, Dean. It was cruel to make them come back only to take them again, but you’re not abandoned. I’m here, Sam is here, Cas too…”

“You’re here” I whisper, squeezing her in my arms. “Yes, you’re always here.” 

“Look outside” she says after a minute.

I turn my head to the little window, nothing can really be seen through it because of the snow. I have no idea why, but there is something comforting about it, like the cabin itself was wrapped in a thick coat.

Her hand comes to my face to wipe the tears there.

“There is nowhere we can go for now “she states. “Sam is safe and Cas promised to stay in the bunker to keep an eye on everything. No hunt planned, just the snow and me.”

I search her face.

“You had checked the weather, right ?” I ask, looking around, still amazed by the magic of this place.

“I did…” she admits. “Just to be sure you would have no regret to be here, because you can’t leave anyway. But you’re not locked forever !” she chuckles. “I’m not a psycho. The snow will only fall like that tonight, and if we really want to leave tomorrow, we can. But the place is ours for a week…”

“I like being your prisoner” I smile.

“Now Dean” she pecks my lips tenderly. “We have all this time to talk about anything, or binge Dr Sexy MD, we have nothing else to do than relax. No one is waiting for you.”

I grab her thigh and tug at it to make her straddle me. She sits on my lap in her very oversized hoodie, her hair messy and her eyes a little red from crying. She’s perfect and she agreed to be mine.

I’m not abandoned. In fact, I never really felt understood by Mary or by John… I love them and their death is not something I will recover totally. But I have Y/n. She understands, she is my best friend and the love of my life ; and I wouldn’t feel so lonely if I just took the time to look deep in her eyes more often. 

“How do we do that ?” I ask. “How do we enjoy winter ?”

A wide smile grows on her face.

“It’s all about laziness” she states like she was explaining something serious. “About being warm when it’s so cold outside, about doing silly things, eating like kids and never looking at your watch. Anything that makes us feel comfy actually”

I take some candies from the tray.

“Can we watch an animated movie ?” I ask, remembering the good time we had going to the theater to watch Finding Dory together.

“Yup” she nods. “I have Big Hero 6, The Lion King of course, Madagascar, Totoro, Hotel Transylvania and uhm… Kung Fu panda !”

“You packed all that ?” I smile.

“Of course, I took a little of everything.”

I take a deep breath and peck her lips, earning a satisfied hum from her. I think I can do that, with her I can.

My hand dives in the bag of gummy bears, and I grab a fistful of it, making some fall on the floor. 

“Whoops” I bend to try and get them but she catches most of the little bears.

“So” she says with her mouth full of candies. “Besides getting diabetes while watching animated movies ? Do you have plans ?”

“Yeah” I smile, putting the bag of gummy bears between us on my lap to stuff more in my mouth. “Broiling marshmallows in the fireplace.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in the diabetes category, baby” she nods.

“Building a pillow fort definitely, and cuddling” I add and her face lights up. “Come up with a new mac and cheese recipe. Making love everywhere and sleeping, I obviously need sleep. But I’m struggling to rest lately…” 

A mischievous smile appears on her pretty face.

“Maybe if I tire you enough…” she licks her lips. “Then you will fall asleep more easily.”

“I like the way you think” I groan, putting the candy bag to the side.

She bends to kiss me, her warm lips crushing on mine before she slips her tongue in my mouth. My hands slide on her body, enjoying every curve, turning on my burning desire again. And while I slip under her hoodie to feel her skin, she starts moving her hips against my crotch.

My body reacts to hers instantly, cock growing with hunger for her, the woman that owes me, the woman that makes me the infinite honor of loving every damaged part of me.

She runs her fingers through my hair, her short nails scratching my scalp. She grabs my bottom lip between her teeth and I shift on the couch. I need to be inside of her so much.

“You’re perfect Dean” she says with her lust voice.

She sits back to push my shirt up and I help her get it out of the way. I love when she gets like that, when her love for me shows in her moves, in the way she wants me. 

Her lips meet the shivering skin of my chest, and when her wet tongue finds my nipple, a jolt of electricity runs to my crotch, making my already hard cock twitch against her pants covered core. I moan loud, grasping her hair.

“Fuck Y/n baby… I need to see you.”

She undresses with a smile, revealing her naked body under the sweater she took from me. She looks like a present, all ready under just a single wrapping…

I bend to devour her breasts, taking a nipple to suck at it like a starving man, desperate to earn moans and gasps from her pretty mouth. 

“F-fuck Dean” she breathes out, her head falling back, her nipple hardening against my tongue.

Her body gets lost in mine, I know how to trigger her like a freaking gun. Her back rolls like a snake and her pussy pushes harder against me, I can now feel a wet spot going through our clothes.

I will never get over the effect I have on her.

I open her pajama pants, and eagerly push it down, licking at her neck.

“I need to come home baby… please” I almost whine, with that voice only she can get from me.

She shivers when I start sucking at her pulse point, knowing exactly that it will leave a purple mark that yells mine, the kind of signature I love to let on her. 

“Y-yes Dean…” she begs now, her hips desperately trying to get more friction. “T-take me.” 

An animalistic growl comes out of my chest and I turn to push her down on the couch, hovering her. With one hand, I take off her pants and spread her legs again to sit between them.

“Fuck…” I groan. “You soaked me through your pants baby” my fingers go down to brush her folds, spreading her wetness all over. “So wet for me.”

“A-always” she gasps.

She is already far, already quivering under my touch and it’s beautiful.

My fingers push at her entrance, welcomed by throbbings of her walls and moans on her lips. I became an expert at her body, and nothing is better than to see her part her lips that way. 

I start thrusting my fingers slowly inside her so soft body, taking my time to feel her, to watch her bottom lip tremble. My thumb gently grazes her clit once and that’s when she whines, grabbing my wrist like she wanted to control my hand.

“What baby ?” I whisper in her ear. “You want something ?”

“M-more, p-please Dean” she moans. 

So I give her what she asks. I sink deeper, stopping only when my other curled fingers bump her entrance, and start working her, teasing her sweet spot.

“F-fuck yes…” she spreads her legs more, allowing me to move just a little deeper inside of her.

She lets my hand go, now satisfied by the treatment I’m administering, and she grabs her breasts, squeezing them. My cock twitches again, I know I could come just watching her if it lasted a little too long. 

“I’m gonna come, Dean” she moans, arching her back a little in her bliss.

I move my fingers faster, delighting in the wet sounds coming from her soaked sex. She’s close, really close, and I want her to fall off that cliff.

“Yes baby, come for me, clench my fingers” I pant, totally mesmerized by my desire for her.

I kiss her and suddenly feel it, she shakes, and squeezes my fingers very hard.

“D-DEAN YES”

I put little kisses on her face while she comes down slowly, in little moans and groans that make me crazy. I withdraw my fingers and look down at them : they are gleaming with her sweet juice. 

I lift my fingers, sliding them on each other to look closer, and smell. Finally tasting her on them, I hum.

“You taste so good, baby.”

She grabs my neck to pull me down for a kiss, almost making me fall on her, and press my body harder on hers.

“Take me Dean” she moans. “Come home.”

I push my underwear down, not able to wait a second more, I grab my aching cock and position it at her entrance. I feel her hands on my face, and her eyes on me but I’m too engrossed by the sight of me sinking inside of her.

When I look up, she’s staring at me with her lips parted.

“I love you Dean” she says, the last syllable a little strangled by me bottoming out.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

I gently grind onto her, giving her time to adjust before I start trusting, holding back to not just pound into her like I know I would if I let go. I need to be deep, I need to own her, to make her scream, but I roll my hips and moan.

She starts joining my moves and I groan in her neck. 

“Feel so good, baby” I let out in a growl, involuntarily snapping my hips a little harder.

And before I can gain my cool again, she wraps her legs around me, pushing me deeper, caging me against her. 

“Yes ! L-Let go Dean… Take me !”

So I do.

I let go totally, trusting her, she wouldn’t let me hurt her, I know she wouldn’t. So I hold her body and pound into her almost brutally, earning gasps and moans from her perfect mouth.

Her whole body moves with each of my trusts. She’s mine. It’s all I can think of : My baby, my Y/n. My love.  

Her inner walls clench me, adding the most overwhelming sensation and I feel my thighs contracting.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes !” she moans over and over again, encouraging me to go harder, deeper.

“C-come Y/n” I order, losing the rhythm I had until now. “Come on my cock.”

A sharp burning hits my back, she’s digging her nails in my skin. But all I can focus on is her orgasm milking my cock. She arches her back and screams.

“DEAN ! YES!”

I bury myself the deepest possible and come hard, an intense relief roaming through my body as I empty myself inside of her in little convulsion of my legs.

“FUCK Y/N ! GRAAH !”

I lose control of my body for a second, just shaking in pleasure above her, out of breath. I know I’m probably crushing her a little as my weight can’t really hold itself anymore, but she doesn’t push me, only strokes my wet hair.

“I love you so much Y/n” I say, holding her protectively.

“I love you too Dean” I can hear a smile in her voice. “So so much.”

I lift my head to see her, searching her red sweaty face. I know I can do this, I can enjoy this cabin, and winter and life… Because the love of my life loves me back. 

“I want to stay the whole week” I admit, already thinking of making love in that incredible bed upstairs, about cuddling next to the fireplace and watching one of the movies she brought.

“Then we stay a whole week, baby” she answers simply, still stroking my hair in the most delicious way.

That’s when I feel it : I will sleep like a baby. As soon as I close my eyes, I will just drift off and dream of her.

“Thank you baby” I smile lazily. “For everything.”

I can feel her pretty smile against my lips.

“Everything for you, baby” she whispers.

_______________________________

FEEDBACK IS MY FUEL

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n  @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @mrspeacem1nusone​ @stylesismyhubs​ @deanwanddamons​ @jawritter​ @peridottea91​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​ @vicmc624​ @teresa-67​ @jessie-michael​ @doctor-hp-mcu​ @hawkerz12​ @mariaenchanted​

[cedric-stories]

A Long Day

Word Count: around 1,300 but I could continue this at a later date

Warnings: Suggestive, make out, fluffy (kinda, lol)

Plot: Not really a plot. This is a dump of (I’m gonna be blunt) things I wish could happen between us.

Reader pronouns: she/her

 A long day

           Things had been rough at work this morning. As soon as it was time to leave you ran for your life to get home. Once you got there, you walked in to find a raging Cedric.

           “Oh, Merlin’s mushrooms! Everything is going wrong!”

You signed. Things seemed to be complicated for Cedric today as well.

           “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

Cedric turned around and looked at you. He gave a small shrug and turned back.

           “Okay then.”

He laughed. “Okay then? What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean?”

           “It means you didn’t even answer me when I asked a question.”

Cedric, once again, turned to face you.

           “Well, it’s been a hard day, I am sorry.” He replied with a huff.

“Fine. I wasn’t asking for an apology”

           You headed off to the bathroom and got a shower. This is just what you needed. Cedric will probably be in a mood the rest of the day and it would just send your already-horrible-day into an even worse time. Cedric wasn’t one to be in a terrible mood (not in the littlest bit) or even very angry, but he was one to be grumpy; and grumpy was not what you needed.

After taking your time in the shower, you finally decided it was time to face the rest of your evening. You got to ringing out your long hair and stepped onto the cool surface of tile outside the shower. You went to grab your towels from behind the door when you realized they were gone. It was so strange; you knew you had seen them there before you got in. Then, you looked for your clothes and noticed only your panties were left. You were dripping wet and didn’t know what to do. Against your better judgement, you decided to call for your boyfriend.

           “Cedric? Can you get me a towel or something, please?”

You waited a minute and didn’t get an answer.

           “Cedric?” you called. Still nothing.

           You rolled your eyes and presumed he was working on some potion or spell. The next thing you could think of doing was putting on your green, lacy bra and panties and head to the bedroom. Shaking as you walked along, you reached the dresser and when you opened the drawers there was nothing.

           “Are you looking for something, angel?” A voice asked from behind you.

You were startled and spun around to see your boyfriend standing about four feet from you.

           “I was looking for my clothes or a towel. I called you,” you said in a rather snappy tone, “did you hear me?”

Cedric gave a grin. “Yes, I did.”

           Your face looked shocked. “And, again, you didn’t answer?”

“That seems to be what happened, yes.”

           “Why?” you asked, flinging your arms down at your sides.

           Cedric’s smile grew wider and more dangerous.

“I didn’t want to.” He answered very flippantly, waving a hand in the air as he spoke.

           Your eyes squinted.

“Um, why?”

           He began walking towards you, his arms unfolding.

“Well, I thought this might be more fun. After all, what’s the point in taking your things if I just give them right back? I would say you know me well enough to come up with a good answer to that question, sweetheart.”

           Suddenly, you noticed the glimmer in his eyes, and it all started making sense to you. A warmth in your stomach began to burn as he was walking forward. It became harder to stand and your arms couldn’t keep steady.

           “Ah,’ you replied to him, not moving a muscle.

“Ah indeed,” he paused. “so, I noticed you’ve had a hard day at work, lovey.” He said, reaching an arm out to brush the side of your face. “I’m terribly sorry I was rude to you when you got back.”

           Your head instinctively pressed up against his warm, gloved hand. A soft hum left you as he trailed a line down your neck to your upper chest.

           “It’s okay.” You said, looking at the ground.

           “Why don’t you come over here,” he said gesturing to the quilt-covered bed, “and relax.”

He moved his other hand to your waist and began sliding it up.

           “I think I can take good care of you.” He said, kissing your cheek. “Don’t you?”

You smiled wide.

           “Yes.”

           Next thing you knew, he was softly pushing you onto the bed. His lips brushed over the top of your hand and began kissing up your arm. Once he reached your shoulder, he put his mouth to the top and started to suck . You tried your best not to moan  but it wasn’t easy. The feeling of his warm tongue over your skin made you almost dazed. After a few minutes, he stopped sucking and went back to kissing you. Once he reached your chest, you felt his tongue glide up your neck. Your head flipped back, and a long moan escaped your mouth.

           Cedric’s cheeks began to flush when he heard you. He sat up and gave you some room. You scared him with your close-to-violent reactions, and he didn’t know if you were enjoying any of this. He was still very insecure in your relationship.

           “I’m sorry, y/n. I may have gotten a little ahead of myself.”

You looked at him, shocked and sat up quickly. You grabbed his collar and kissed his lips hard.

           “No, no, no! Please, Cedric, don’t stop. For the love of god, don’t stop!” you began to beg. You normally gave him some space and would politely tell him whatever it was was okay with you and you enjoyed it, but today was different. Today, all you needed was him and you were determined to get it (since he had already started this madness). Your core was burning and something inside you told you he could finally handle this side of you[TJ3] …

           Which he tried to handle it but was very surprised by your actions. You couldn’t help noticing how his robe was stilled tied. You pulled on the knot and looked up at him.

           “Please?” you asked, your eyes big.

He gulped and shyly nodded. 

           Without another thought, you began to untie his bow and gently opened it. You ended up flipping over and straddling the man. You kissed up his neck to his face, making him giggle. You ran your hands over his chest, felt the cold buttons of his vest and started undoing them one by one.

           You looked into his eyes once more for approval (which you got by a small kiss and another nod). After, you couldn’t help but smile at him, and get a little frustrated by all the layers he wore.

           When his vest was unbuttoned you put your hand on his undershirt and leaned down. Sliding a hand behind his head, you kissed him firmly then backed off; trying to get him to follow. He sat up on his forearms enough for you to start sliding off his robe and vest.

           “Y/n, this wasn’t exactly what I had planned. I was the one who was going to handle- “

You shushed him with a kiss.

           “Oh, Cedric, as long as you are happy, I am having a great time.”

           He goofily smiled and you pushed him backdown on the bed. You couldn’t help but admire his beautiful gray bangs that contrasted against his dark hair. You twisted a piece around your finger and brought your other hand to his face and booped his nose.

           “You’re so handsome.” You said to him, gently sliding your arm up his shirt.

His blush got redder after your comment, but then you noticed him look down at your chest. He unhooked the back of your bra and smiled.

           “as long as you don’t mind, I’d like to-um…”

A shock ran up your body and your core was set on fire.

           “Go ahead.”

Author’s note

: I would really like to continue this but, tbh, I’m new to writing smut so if I went on it would be my first. Hope you liked it! Also, I have read every x reader on tumblr about him so if it sounds like things you’ve read before I think I got some inspo from other writers! thanks again y’all

[creamytinydays]

The Boy at the Door (2/2)

🌸  An Everlark story  🍞 Read Part 1 here!

The next morning Katniss is woken by the sound of the protectors singing, their voices echoing down stone corridors and heralding a new day. She gets dressed, and tucks her necklace under her robes. No one at the temple has seen it yet, and she prays no one will.

She makes her way to Annie’s room. They braid each other’s hair in the morning light. This is usually a quiet affair, but Annie breaks the silence.

“I can’t make up my mind.” She clasps her hands in front of her.

“What about?”

“Whether I should stay here.”

Katniss nods. Most temples require protectors to commit to the temple or continue on their way within a few cycles of the moon. This temple is more generous, allowing protectors a year to contemplate the choice. But once they are committed, they must stay for life. 

“What about you?” Annie looks at Katniss.

Katniss’ hand wanders absently to touch the coin at her throat. She’s wondered this herself, each time that she visited the temple. But Katniss knows if she stays too long, it will become apparent that she doesn’t age a day past seventeen. She can usually manage four years, perhaps five. Certainly, she can’t stay for the rest of her days. But she does plan to return again, in sixty years or so, once all the protectors that know her now are gone.

She realizes that this means Annie will be gone too, and she finds herself squeezing her friends’ hand.

“If you choose to stay, I think you must be sure.” She picks at a thread on the quilt. “I’ll likely travel to another temple.” She shrugs, avoiding Annie’s eyes. “Breakfast?”

After breakfast, Katniss takes dishes back to the kitchen. She sweeps the floor and arranges the spices in the rack. She’s had a great deal of practice in waiting, the slowness of the clock’s hand torments here as it lazily traces the circumference of the clock. It reminds her of the beginning of her condition, when each day would drag on with no purpose or meaning. She’d buried her sister and father, and then her mother shortly after as the plague tore through their little town. She would have stayed in their hamlet forever, guarding their graves, but she couldn’t stay without drawing attention to her condition.

She’d stumbled upon the Kingdom of Seven after years of wandering. The gardens of the temple overlooking the sea were the closest to peace that she could find.

A knock on the door startles her. She swings it open to find the baker’s apprentice.

“Delivery for –” He smiles and she has to look away. “Oh, it’s you!”

Katniss widens the door to let him in, and helps him put away the baked goods. 

She stops him when he’s about to slide a basket into a cupboard. 

“What’s that?” She points at the basket cradled in his hands. A delicious smell wafts from it. 

He grins up at her, and slowly draws back the cloth. Her eyes widen at the layers of cheese baked on top of a small roll. He plucks one out and hands it to her.

“These are cheese buns. It’s a new recipe.”

She devours the roll, then holds out her hand towards him. He laughs and places another in her palm.

“You like them, right? Me too.”

Katniss realizes she’s about to eat the second, and he hasn’t had any. It takes some effort to lower it from her mouth.

“You should have one, too.” She waits for him to take one. 

He shakes his head, his eyes clouding for a moment.

“No, it’s probably not good business to eat my deliveries.”

She grabs his hand and presses the bun in it.

“I was going to eat it, so now it’s up to me to decide what happens to it. You should have it.”

He starts to protest but she cuts him off. 

“You can’t return a gift.”

He smiles, shaking his head in defeat. “That’s true.” He takes a bite, and she almost smiles.

“Well thank you, miss…” He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Katniss. And yours?”

“Peeta.”

She doesn’t like how much she thinks about his smile after he leaves.

*

A/N: 

This was written as part of Chapter 2 of the Everlark fic Mockingjay Temple. I wrote Ch 1 of the fic for the 2019 Everlark Fic Exchange. You can find Ch 1 on Ao3. The story prompt was written by @567inpanem​ (thank you!)

Fair warning, I am not sure if or when I will update Mockingjay Temple again, but I hope you enjoyed!

Photo by Jim DiGritz on Unsplash

[baby-n-boo]

Flu- Little!Tommy, CG!Philza, CG!Wilbur, CG!Puffy Flip!Technoblade Little!Ranboo, Flip!Dream

It had started with a splutter here and there, nothing to worry about, since it was Winter, the season of stray sniffles. Everybody in the SMP-who wasn't a genetically enhanced hybrid of some sort-was suffering from a running nose, maybe a few coughs now and then, but they didn't get super sick. Apart from Tommy, who didn't seem to shake his cold, still spluttering, complaining of a fuzzy headache and sore throat 'to end all sore throats' after a week of suffering. But soon enough, the few-and-far-between coughs had graduated to nearly as often as he breathed, paired with sudden, violent sneezing fits that left him breathless and red-faced, occurring more than he would let on.

But, on the morning that we set our story, Tommy had coughed too hard and woken himself up, a frequent occurrence in the past week or so, though hed never have let on to the rest of the facility that he was barely sleeping. But luckily, though he felt absolutely terrible and fuzzy-headed, like he could lie in bed all day and not feel any more refreshed, he had woken up Big, and was prepared to do what he had to, in order to stay that way. His solitary mission-Coffee-was clear in his mind as he carefully unlocked the clasps on his crib, ensuring he kept his favourite stuffie nearby, for mere novelty purpose of course. He blinked the sleep from his big eyes, impatiently rubbing his running nose on the sleeve of his sleeper as he pulled the side down and slid to the ground, glad for the fact he always woke up dry. He made short work of opening the usually baby-proofed door, CHATTR making no attempt to stop a clearly big Tommy from getting to his early-morning caffeine, all too aware of the violence and threats that usually ensued. The still sleepy man shuffled quietly towards the kitchen, muffling a few spluttering coughs in his stuffie, not wanting to wake the others. CHATTR was very quick to ensure he was informed of a -only really tiny- fact. The time being 4.03am.

Tommy was used to sneaking around early in the morning when he was big, liking to eat as little as he could and get to work with the day’s tasks, as quick as possible, before anyone could stop him. However, a spontaneous sneezing fit made his eyes water, and halted his plans. He had to stop in the middle of the hall, gripping his stomach hard as it started to ache, before slamming backwards into the wall, the explosive sneezes continuing. After only a few more, he slid to the ground, his legs too weak to hold his weight any longer. He hunched into a small ball on the floor to make it stop, the force of the sneezes rocking his small body back and forth, as he gripped his bear close. The sudden noise drew most of his family out of their rooms, sleep-tousled and wary, a few of them clutching weapons in varying stages of usability. But, when they saw the curled up man on the floor, clutching his bear with watery eyes, they soon calmed, used to the sight. Techno, tucking the pistol he had been gripping with deadly aim into a secret sheath in his PJ robe, ever royalty, smiled a little, before crouching down.

"Tom?" He asked carefully, as he put a hand forward. The little often didn't like to be touched by anyone but his carers-Wilbur and Phil, but in this case, he let him put his hand gently on the nearest knee with nary a flinch. Though that may have been because he was in the middle of a painful sounding coughing fit, the barking chokes wracking his body like they were ricocheting off of his ribs. Techno sighed sympathetically, helping him awkwardly to his feet, and leading him down the hall to the kitchen, as most of the others went back to bed for a few more hours sleep, though Wilbur followed the duo like a motherly phantom, already awake for an early workout. Techno was supporting most of Tommy's meagre weight as they slowly moved down the hall, having to take frequent breaks for Tommy to cough up a lung or sneeze some more, resisting the urge to scoop him up. But finally, they made it, Techno guiding Tommy to his highchair, ignoring his protests as he strapped him in. "You're safer here. If you end up all curled up like you did out there, you might fall off a normal seat and hurt yourself. So even if you don't like it, you're going in here." He explained, buckling up the straps and hooking the tray on, as Wilbur took a seat at the table, still silent. Once Tommy had started coughing again, rendering himself unable to continue the rather one-sided debate, Techno swept across the kitchen, grabbing a water for Wilbur, and flipping on the coffee maker for himself, and Tommy, though that was more of a courtesy than him actually having any purpose of giving it to him.

Wilbur had regarded the entire scene with worried eyes, sure that the other was deeply in his head-space, and concerned about the coughing that just did not seem to be ending, as Tommy hunched over the white plastic tray, his bear tucked securely into his lap. Call it brotherly intuition, but Wilbur knew that Tommy wasn't going to admit how deep he was falling into headspace, regardless of how terrible he felt, so, making a gesture towards him that he knew Techno caught, to signal as such, he looked away. Taking a gulp of the water Techno had handed him to take his mind off of Tommy's suffering, and to keep from running to a still sleeping Phil for comfort, Wilbur sighed, and pushed off of the chair, instead pulling on his sneakers. With a grunt, he pulled the door open and forced himself out of it, despite the fact that every part of him screamed to go back and capture the suffering man in a warm embrace, letting the door sweep shut behind him in a very unsatisfyingly silent movement, as he moved to work out his frustrations with a jog to warm up, before hitting the gym. The rhythmic slapping of his shoes on the springy asphalt sidewalk soon pushed all thoughts of worry out of his head, instead making his adrenaline surge, and his breath shorten ever so slightly, as he headed for his third lap of the course Big Tommy had set up for him the last time he'd gone on a renovating spree. Wilbur, pushing his body even further in a self-punishing burst of speed and endurance, that would have knocked out any sane, normal person, tried his hardest to get the last niggling feelings of something being wrong out of the back of his head, hearing slower footfalls behind him as his good friend, Charlie joined him silently for a few goes around.

Meanwhile, back in the facility mandated apartment, Techno had finished brewing the coffee, and, instead, was trying to convince Tommy to take his medicine-suspended in juice-from a sippy cup, unsuccessfully. "Come on, Tom, It's even got your face on." he encouraged, waving it in his face, but, burying his face in his teddy, he whined, and kept turning away. Sighing a little, Techno turned away, placing the Sippy back on the counter, and rubbed his eyes, more out of frustration than exhaustion, before turning back to the boy. "How about we go find Phil? He'll know what to do. And, he shoulda been up for this morning's jog with Wilbur." He suggested, unlatching the tray from the high chair, and popping the straps open from around Tommy. Exhausted, he slumped forward, leaving Tech to catch his weight, as he sniffled miserably into the silk-clad shoulder. "Yeah. Phil." He whispered, the words rasping painfully through his throat, not even caring as Techno continued to carry him down the hall towards Phil's room. His gait was smooth, and silent on the carpeted floor, thankfully not jostling his already pounding head, and he soon drifted back to sleep, free from the throes of endless coughing, at least for a short while.

Carefully pushing into Phil's room, still cradling Tommy to his side, Techno scoffed at the man, spread-eagled on the bed, his quilts not even bothering to cover a little of his bare chest, and pinched his leg, to wake him. His black PJ bottoms had bunched up about his legs in his sleep, making him look more like a medieval messenger than a modern day miner and father, but, as Techno placed a still sleeping Tommy down in the bed-side crib, he rolled over, his snores hitching, and caught sight of the duo through bleary eyes. "te’no?" he asked groggily, slurring his syllables together, before stifling a yawn with his hand, using the other to push himself up to a sitting position, and taking note of the red faced, whining in his sleep Tommy next to him. "Is he okay?" he worried, reaching over to feel the boy's forehead, all traces of sleep now gone from his voice. Techno nodded, with a grim face, and, making sure Tommy's teddy was securely tucked next to him for when he woke up, perched on the end of Phil's bed, staring down into his lap, at the tightly clasped hands. "He woke us all up really early this morning, coughing fit to die in the hall, but, when we tried to help him, he insisted he was big, and refused to take his medicine sippy. He asked to come see you, cause Wilbur's gone on a run to get rid of his nervous fluttering energy. I swear, sometimes he's more like a new mother than a brother to this boy." He weakly joked, but inside, the fear was coiling up, making him feel a little nauseous.

CHATTR, who had been silent up to this point, now piped up, and, in their ever-patient voice, alerted the two concerned adults. "It appears that Mister Innit is suffering from a very major form of influenza B. Having gone untreated for so long, it is at a very high risk of developing into pneumonia." He informed them, before illuminating the bedroom softly. "Might I recommend taking swift and decisive action when the young master awakens?" he mentioned, as Phil slapped a hand over his mouth. Shakily, he started hitting himself in the head with his good arm, his breath speeding up as he worked himself into a panic. "How did I not see it before?" He murmured angrily to himself, even as Techo grabbed his arm, and held it down to stop him. "Phil, its only flu. It's not your responsibility to notice everything about Tom. Thats why we are all here." He explained quietly, trying to calm him, though he just laughed hollowly, and kept staring at the sleeping boy. "Yeah. Influenza B. The one that can be fatal. Wilbur had it once, when we were younger. He almost died. Tech, promise me that Tom isn't gonna die! Tell me it's not true!" he panicked, turning to the pink headed voice of reason with tears in his eyes, as his voice increased in volume. He shook his head, unable to promise anything, but pulled Phil into a tight hug instead. "We're all gonna fight for him, we are gonna do even more than our best to make sure that doesn't happen." He assured, his eyes lingering on the little, who had now started tossing and turning, sweating through his onesie in distress.

The two of them stayed like that, watching over Tommy, and occasionally whispering to each other, for what felt like hours, until they heard a door slam open, clearly having been pushed, and Tubbo's voice filling the quiet facility, asking after Tommy. An answering cry from one of the many little's rooms followed, sounding like a fussy Ranboo, shortly before a berating from whomever had gotten up to care for the little-probably Puffy. The apology was drowned out by CHATTR entering back into the moment, and, a faint tinge of amusement in their voice, relayed some information. "Master Underscore is insisting I let him see Mister Innit. May he gain entrance?" he asked, and, a finger over his lips, Techno nodded, beckoning for the door to be opened. It swung open, and, almost immediately, Tubbo was upon them, asking hundreds of questions about Tommy, and why he wasn't up to go with him on adventures. Techno was quick to shush him, and point towards the crib, where Tommy, now starting to stir, was lain, subject to Phil's careful stroking of his hair.

"Oh, he's little." Was the teen's only response, instead deciding to sit on the edge of the bed, in the spot Techno had just vacated, and look on. "I know I have the hotel after school today, but can I stay anyway? I wanna playyyy." he asked hopefully, but Techno shrugged. "Since Tom's kinda outta commission, you're gonna hafta ask Uncle Sam." He smiled, watching as he slumped. "But Techyyyyyy..." he whined, turning his best puppy eyes on him, but Techno just chuckled quietly. "You'd have a better chance of success challenging your Uncle over there to a duel. Now go grab some breakfast, and get your butt outside, you tyke. Maybe I'll meet you at the park later. But only if you're good." He ordered jokingly, tousling Tubbo’s hair, before giving him a tight hug. He huffed, but obliged, wrapping his arms around Phil's middle too, and squeezing as tight as he could, laughing evilly when the older man groaned. "My bones are frail, Tubs. I'm too old for that!" he complained, reciprocating the tight hug with his free arm, which the younger boy valiantly took with nearly no complaint. Laughing, he danced out of reach as Phil tried to ruffle his, only just re-tamed, hair, a mischievous smile on his face, and smiled happily towards Tommy, who was silently watching the exchange through the bars of the crib with red eyes.

"Sorry nugget, guess you're in quarantine now?" he apologized, sending an air hug across the room, and grinning as he got to use one of the cute child nicknames Tommy always used to give him. "Keep me posted?" Tubbo asked hopefully, his grin only widening when Techno whispered an "Of course." Before he ran from the room energetically, already unbuttoning his formal shirt sleeves. "No running! And keep your shirt on, it’s nice-huh, there's no point." Techno came to the door, calling after Tubbo, shaking his head as he didn't listen anyway. Re-entering the room, he noticed Phil lifting Tommy out of the crib, and noticed just how deathly pale he had gotten over the past few weeks, as his head lolled weakly over the other man's arm and his laboured breathing became even more pronounced. A faint smell of dirty diaper was emanating from his direction, but, as Phil moved to take him to the changing table in the bathroom, he whined, and tried to wiggle out of the older man's hold. "I can do it myself, Phil." he murmured, his throat making his voice raspy and whispery, but, pretending he couldn't hear the boy, Phil carried on, laying the boy down on the changing table, before unbuttoning his onesie, and whistling at the diaper underneath.

Turning away to give the two some privacy, Techno started busying himself with straightening up the ornaments on top of the dresser, and the rumpled blankets on the bed, flinching every-time a rough cough sounded about the room, or a weak whine came from the boy at a cold wipe. It was almost unbearable, but, just as he was at his wit's end, about to leave, Phil padded back out, a limp, weak Tommy in his arms, wearing nothing but his diaper and a light blue plastic cover to hold back from leakage. Techno smiled softly, holding his arms out to hold the little, and shivered as his feverishly hot skin brushed against his arm when the boy was passed over. He was still speaking, trying to insist he was fine, but his voice was nearly all gone now, occasional letters breaking through the phlegmy stupor of his illness, so, ignoring it, techno pulled a light yellow shirt out of the drawer dedicated for Will’s little stuff, sure he wouldn't mind, and tugged it over Tommy's head, to give him at least a little modesty, watching as it fell to his knees comfortably. He reached back for a pair of sweatpants, but, a slight head shake from Phil, awkwardly lingering in the doorway, ready to leave, had tech withdrawing his hand, and, instead, carrying the little boy, his breaths now wheezing loudly as they went in and out, over to his CG.

Phil was quick to scoop the little boy back into his arms, cuddling him tight against his chest as if he was scared the boy might just turn out to be a hallucination, a figment of his imagination, disregarding the loud wheezing noises as he struggled to breathe. CHATTR lit the corridor in a dim blue, signifying they had a message, but their words came through muffled, as if underwater, through the stupor of fear and concern that Techno and Phil had surrounded themselves with. "Ice. We need Ice." The piglin murmured, holding up a finger to emphasise his point, as they reached the communal living area, where a little Ranboo was splayed across an entire couch, having his hair combed gently by Puffy , as he sobbed quietly, clearly unstable after his sudden awakening via over-excited Tubbo. Phil nodded numbly, clutching Tommy to himself as he looked around for Wilbur, who still hadn't returned from his run, Techno disappearing off to the ice machine in the front of the fridge.

Wrapping the cubes in a nearby hand-towel, he bound it shut, and brought it back over, gently placing it under the oversized shirt, onto Tommy's stomach, at which point he flinched, and started writhing to get away from it. However, even as his uncomfortable noises set Ranboo's wailing off again, techno stubbornly kept the makeshift icepack where it was, gently massaging the cold sensation into the little boys stomach, until he lost a little of the drawn, jaundiced aura he'd been sporting. "There we go. I bet that feels a little better, eh?" He asked, even as he smiled a little, and snuggled a little closer to Phils chest, having regained a tiny portion of his strength. The action, however, was merely a preceding event to a violent sneeze, that sent his head rocketing backwards so rapidly, Techno instantly started looking for signs of a broken neck, and, upon inhaling afterwards, his breath caught in his phlegmy throat, choking him to a sort of pinky-violet hue.

Puffy, sighing quietly, scooped Ranboo up onto her hip, and shuffled back towards the elevator, muttering something about never getting any peace, leaving the trio stood in the middle of the room alone. Techno kept the ice pack on Tommy's stomach, even as Phil shuffled awkwardly foot to foot, trying to look anywhere but at the little boy in his arms,even as the phlegm shifted, the violet finally subsided, and the boy started hiccoughing, tears streaming down his face that weren't all brought on by the coughing. "i'm big." He whispered, burrowing deeper into the shirt, and the ice pack, looking a tiny bit better, with the ministrations, though there was still a long way to go. "I promise. I'm big."

"Well, if you're so big, how about you go to your br-Techno, and let me go get us both a drink, eh?" Phil questioned, watching as the boy squirmed gently to get free. Techno smiled faintly, holding his arms out. "Come here, titch." He joked, but Tommy pouted, shaking his head. "Big enough to walk." He insisted quietly, holding the ice to his belly with one arm, leaving a wet patch on the yellow shirt. Sharing a quick questioning look with Phil, in which they seems to converse entirely, Tech raised an eyebrow, and warned. "I'll let you walk, but you have to hold my hand, in case you fall over." He compromised, seeing as Tommy weighed up the positives and negatives. "Mkay. Stiw want coffee tho." He mumbled, still using little vernacular, regardless of how old he claimed he was.

"Good boy. Come on then, let's go sit down, eh?" Techno enthused, helping him down from Phil’s arms. He nodded gently, holding himself like a cup filled to the brim, as he made a few tentative steps. "I cant promise coffee, Tom, but certainly a drink of some kind." Phil called from the kitchen, picking up the rejected medicine sippy from earlier, and adding it to the line up of mugs he was gonna take through. If the coffee machine would finish brewing the new jug already. "Come onnn." He groaned, combing a hand through his messy bed head, making a mental note to get a cut, as he drummed regularly on the counter top with his other hand. From where he was stood, he could only just see to the couch, where Techno was trying to convince Tommy to lie down, saying it'd 'help his head feel better'. A faint smile crept onto his face at the mini-tantrum the boy was throwing on mute, though, with a sigh, he knew that illness was no excuse for misbehaviour.

"Tommy." He warned, watching as the boy stiffened. "Behave, and do what Tech says. He knows how to help right now." He ordered, watching as he clambered onto the couch, and begrudgingly laid his head in the piglin’s lap. The coffee machine was still brewing a minute or two of silence later, seeming to go slow on purpose, so, turning to get a snack from the fridge, Phil heard the hall phone ring, and shook his head fondly, the old fashioned phone being one of Wilbur's little luxuries, even though they had CHATTR for it all. "Tech, that'll be Will saying when he'll be back, can you just quickly go and grab it? I'm sure Tom will be okay for a sec." He asked, hearing as techno pushed off of the couch again. There was the quiet sound of speaking from the hall for a few seconds, not even a minute, before he laughed, and bade the man on the other end of the phone a quick goodbye.

"About five-" he came through, calling back to Phil, before cutting himself off. "Phil? Where's Tommy?" He asked, fear in his-usually calm-voice. He whirled around, expecting to see him cracking up, or for the little boy helping himself to a now finally brewed coffee, but instead, techno was searching round the couch, no sick little boy in sight. The two of them stood there, shell shocked that they could take their eyes off of the boy for thirty seconds and lose him, until the elevator pinged, indicating that it had docked somewhere, and Phils head shot up. "oh no!" He gasped, scrambling towards the elevator. "Huh? I dont get it?" Techno furrowed his brows in confusion, still stood where he was, even as Phil started hammering the button for the doors. "He thinks he's big. Your lab!" He explained breathlessly, dashing inside as the elevator arrived.

_Techno gaped back, before sprinting into the elevator after Phil, grabbing his hands. "How did we not guess!" He shouted, as the metal box shot downwards at breakneck speed. Phil just shook his head, nervously pacing, too choked by fear to respond. The doors quickly opened again, and Phil went barrelling out, down the corridor towards Techno’s lab, the biggest one on the compound, but also the only one with the windows tinted black so nobody could see inside, closely trailed by Techno, who had the sense to turn off the security cameras as they passed, so nobody else could see what they were up to if they happened to look. He grabbed Phil’s arm as he raised it to pound on the door, instead knocking gently and politely. "Tommy? Are you in there? We’re not mad at you for running off, We just want to know you're safe." He called through the door, hearing the quiet sounds of items clinking into a pot and an occasional bubbling.

"Can...can you open the door?" He asked, hearing a stubborn voice waft back through, carrying a heavy, stuffy nosed denial, as the bubbling sounds stepped up a notch. "No' comin owt. Got importan stuff ta do." It yelled, as quiet footsteps could be heard, coming down the hall towards the lab, the long, light footfalls belying the fact Wilbur was back, paired with squared off, militant ones they knew too well. Dream. "Well, then you don't have to come out." He murmured back through the door, placing a hand on the cold glass, as Wilbur, looking determined, grew level with them. "But...can you let us in?" Techno purposefully kept his voice quiet and calm, one arm out to hold the two men- Tommy's other carers - back from smashing straight through the glass, like it looked like they wanted to. And, really, he couldn't blame them. If he had a sick little purposefully putting themself in danger, he would probably move heaven and earth to protect them too. But luckily, he didn't have anything of the sort. Just a sense of solidarity deep in his core, with the little boy on the other side of the-bulletproof-glass.

However, trying to be nice just wasn't working, as he quickly realised, sighing as he withdrew his hand, and stepped aside, for one of the other two to try. "Don't go crashing in just yet." He whisper warned them, before leaning against the opposite wall, watching as Phil tried to step forward. However, he was cut off by Dream, who nodded once, curtly, and stepped up to the glass, placing his hand exactly where Techno's had been only a moment or two before. He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back to give himself a more formidable posture, that made even Will shiver slightly, and dropped his voice to the deepest register. That level was usually reserved for full Daddy Mode, when one of his kids had done something super bad, like drawn on the walls with crayon. Techno, being a particularly mischievous switch, had had his fair share of that voice, only a hair of bravery keeping him from reaching forward to hold Will’s hand for support, despite the fact he was entirely big. "Tommy." Dream rumbled, entirely unamused by the little's behavior. "I'm going to count to three. By then, this door had better be open, or you are in some serious trouble." The order left no room for the boy to disobey, but, as the brewing stands kicked up into noisy motion, Dream was unphased, beginning his countdown. "One. I dont hear this door unlocking, Thomas." He spoke over the sound, voice clear as crystal. And just as cutting.

Subtly, he beckoned Phil and Wilbur over to his side, hissing his plan so quietly, Techno was surprised they could even hear it themselves. Nodding briefly, Phil placed his other hand on the glass like a rehearsed move, whilst Wilbur starting quietly asking CHATTR if they could get the three of them through the door, and Dream refocussed his attention on the countdown. "Two. I've got your brother and dad here now too. You better be telling CHATTR to let us in, or you're in for the longest corner time of your life, young man." Dream continued, knowing for a fact, by the continued sounds of brewing, that Tommy wasn't even trying to let them in. "Dun hear you!" He shouted back, clearly not entirely big, almost as if, in his extremely sick stupor, he was daring them to do their worst. Which, of course, they could, and would if it were not for some level of civility still keeping them from breaking in.

"One." Phil chimed in for the last number, the two of their deep Carer Voices legitimately making Techno wish he had brought his stuffed dog for moral support, as he felt himself fall slightly smaller, just from the environmental tension. "Tommy, you're already going to have corner time, you wanna make it longer? Don't make me come in there and get you." Philza warned, a vein beginning to pop in his neck at the effort of holding himself back, though he was just greeted by a stubborn silence. Dream sighed heavily, turning slightly so his shoulder was perpendicular to the door, and stepped into place to start battering the door down. "Zero. You're out of time. I'm coming in now. Get away from the door." Dream called through, starting to swing at the door, connecting with loud thuds. "I can and will break this, Thomas." He connected again, as the sound of the glass groaning echoed about the hall, muffling a scared whine from Techno, as he slipped properly down. He genuinely hated when anyone got all scary like this, especially Dream or Phil, it always made him feel like he was in a massive amount of trouble, like they were going to send him back to The Red Place if he misbehaved anymore. Logically, he knew that would never happen, that they all loved him too much, but, in littlespace, there was nothing he could think of more than just being sent back.

However, Will, who had backed away from the glass as Dream had started trying to smash through the door, looked over with concern, sure that he had heard something other than the hollow thuds of shoulder against glass. When he looked at Techno though, all he could see was an entirely composed, only slightly concerned mask on the piglin’s face, completely closed off to any other emotion, or study. Even for his empathetic experience, that had enabled him to tell when the slightest muscle feathered to bely a falsification, he couldn't tell a single thing about his expression. "So..." he started, trying to start up a conversation with Techno, sounding casual, as if the glass wasn't splintering under Phil’s ministrations. Will smiled weakly, but encouragingly as two big, innocent eyes focused up on him, and he released the seemingly forced casual position he had been maintaining. "Yeah..." he spoke carefully, as if he was trying to avoid saying something. Techno stepped slightly closer, resting his hand on Wilbur’s arm, and smiled back, a little toothily. "Gunna be okay." He murmured, so that only the two of them could hear. Will nodded, staring off into the void of the glass, and sighed. "Well, that's if Dream leaves any of him left to be okay." He chuckled slightly, seeing that the glass was only a couple of seconds away from shattering. He didn't want Techno to see that, the poor little one. He hated loud noises, and it wasn't like anyone could blame him, with his past.

"Hey, how about you go tell Puffy that we'll be bringing Tommy up in a minute or two, eh?" he asked, physically restraining himself from ruffling Techno’s hair as he nodded, and ran off, clearly little now, and chuckled. The sweet moment was quickly broken by the loud crash of Dream finally breaking through the glass,though, having resorted to kicking so he didn't fall straight through.

At first glance, it seemed like there was nobody in the lab, glass spread across the floor, and a half finished...mess of potion ingredients on the table, no interpretation of the pieces seeming to be instantly available. One of the downsides of Tommy being little and in the lab. Luckily, there was no blood this time, just a cowering boy under the table, choking on his own tears as he held his teddy close. "I sorry!" he shouted, as the two CGs gently stepped over the danger, to find him. He didn't dare get out from under the table, but, as Will held Dream back, and bent down himself, he did extend his arms for help. "Wilby, I sorry!" he hiccoughed, butt shuffling slightly closer so that Will could safely pull him into his arms, to swing him out of the small, enclosed space, into the light. He hissed slightly at the sudden change of light, burying his face deep in his unofficial brother’s shoulder, still sobbing.

"Hey hey hey, what are all these tears about? Its okay, we’ve got you now. How about we get out of this icky grownup lab, and we go back to somewhere safe? Wanna go find teddy?" Wilbur comforted, bouncing Tommy in his arms as he slowly inched out of the room, glaring at Dream for his violent threats towards the baby. Obviously he had needed something for disobeying when they told him to do things, but it wasn't entirely necessary to have scared the boy, especially in his currently vulnerable state. "Come on, honey, dry up those tears, its okay." Phil carried on, as the trio started back down the hall, Tommy still whining into Will’s shirt, wetting it with both snot and tears, in- if the adult was completely honest- a rather disgusting mix. Tommy just shook his head, nestling deeper into the soft cotton, still struggling to draw entire breaths, through his phlegmy throat, and the tears, and kept sobbing, not even paying attention as Will stepped into the elevator, hearing phil quietly ordering CHATTR to do certain things as he shifted his hand holds. One hand went to the back of Tommy's head, holding him close so he couldn't have looked at his surroundings, even if he had wanted to, since Dream was shadowing the two of them, and his carers really didn't want the boy to have another issue, when he was still on the comedown from the previous one.

When the small trio walked back into the main, communal room, they were faced with a solemn Puffy, and a Techno, who had fully given in to being small now, clutching his bunny as he hid behind Puffy-a small pink paci now bobbing securely in his mouth, absolutely from Ranboo, who was half asleep and watching cartoons on the big view screen, completely oblivious to what else was going on. Dream hadn't known what Phil had asked for, having been in the elevator after the other two, which, of course, had been planned, so he looked confused when Puffy didn't even say hello to either of them. "Alright, im going to go get this little one sorted out, if you could just wait here? I wanna talk to both of you about something once he's sorted." Phil explained, taking Tommy from Will, and heading down the corridor to Tommy's nursery, where he knew Tommy could calm a little easier, without Dream being in his view-line. Faintly, he could hear Dream starting to ask Puffy and Will what was up, and smiled, enjoying keeping him in the dark, hoping that it would reinforce his point that panic isn't always the best response. Puffy was certainly a strong enough personality-and caregiver-to deal with Dream’s endless questioning.

Dream’s voice, demanding to know what was going on in his biggest sounding way, faded away relatively quickly as Phil hurried down the hall with the baby in his arms, his sick sounds of wheezy breathing now pretty normal, though they still ripped out his heartstrings every time a wheeze would devolve into a cough. "Oh Toms, its okay, we're gunna get you all bundled up with your teddy, and your blankie, Mkay?" Phil monologued, as he turned into the nursery with a sigh of relief, placing the little on his flower print changing table. "Do you want your paci whilst i get your cute little butt all cleaned up?" He asked, not getting an answer over the little boy's wheezes, but one hand weakly curled into a grabbing motion as a few tears leaked down the baby's face. Phil wasted no time in plopping a cute little yellow pacifier into Tommy's mouth, which he immediately latched onto, suckling slowly as he drifted. "Hey baby? Stay with me honey." Phil begged, rising panic starting to choke him as Tommy's eyes started to drift shut again. "m seep." Tommy moaned, rubbing an eye slowly and wearily. Normally, sleep would be just what the doctor ordered, but, too scared to leave his baby, even for a nap, Phil shook his head. "Not yet bug. We can go ask Aunt Puffy to let you watch cartoons with Ranboo if you want? I'll get you some ice. And we can cuddle." He didn't want to smother the little boy, but he just looked so vulnerable, Wilbur's yellow shirt hanging off of his chest as he slowly moved, whining sadly.

"I know. I know, it hurts." Phil whispered, gathering the baby into his arms gently, flinching slightly as his boiling skin came into contact with normal temperature skin. "Collll" another whine. . Phil winced at this, hating the fact that the boy was so miserable. "Hey, it's okay, baby. Here. Take Teddy, and hold him tight. Ill grab you your blankie." He pressed the small, fluffy bear back into Tommy's arms, waiting as he sluggishly moved to accommodate it. "Well done honey." He praised, leaning over the edge of the crib, trying to find the light yellow blanket the boy loved so much. Of course, like everything, it was tangled around the bars of the crib, refusing to move as he tugged at it. Sighing, he weighed up the positive and negative ideas running through his head, eventually just rolling down the side of the crib and putting Tommy down on the mattress.

Flinching at the heartbroken wails that then started up, Phil employed both hands to untangle the soft material, which he quickly threw over his arm, lifting a red-faced Tommy back up. "Now that wasn't needed, now was it, baby? I only put you down so I could get the blankie you wanted, we don't need to be worrying." Phil admonished, lighthearted, throwing the edges of the blankie over his baby, not enough to sweat him out, but enough to cover the bare skin. "Now how about we go see Will? I heard he has a lot of cuddles for sick little boys like you." Tommy just whined, nestling his face between his teddy and his cg’s chest, snuffling sadly. "Awe, bunny, you really are sad. I've never known you to turn down cuddles." Phil murmured, more to himself than anyone else, as he headed back down the hall to the main room.

The scene was almost the same as when he left, Ranboo still blinking blearily at the view screen, Will now sat beside him, helping hold his sippy for him, and Techno still shadowing Puffy with her rabbit clutched determinedly between her hands. But this time, Dream wasn't demanding answers from anyone. Instead, he was sat way off in the corner, at the table, glaring angrily at everyone as he methodically ripped apart bits of lettuce from a salad bowl. Heading over to Puffy, Phil silently raised an eyebrow, prompting the only free caregiver in the room to try to explain what was up. "When I kept ignoring him, he gradually got meaner, and I put him in timeout. At the minute, he's trying to deny he's little enough for time out, but I think he's about.... five or six right now?" She estimated, as they both watched Dream move from one shredded leaf to a different one, his movements too jerky and rough for him to fully be his big self.

Phil nodded in understanding, smiling a grateful thanks as he looked down into Tommy's face, and saw him drifting off. "I'm being such a papa bear today. Can you take him?" he whispered to Puffy, who looked like she was gearing up to take the boy even before she had been asked. The nod that followed was too enthusiastic for anybody to have said no, so, chuckling slightly, Phil held out the baby to his aunt, who made short work of whisking him away to the couch. "He probably needs something to eat soon!" Phil called after the caregiver, who just held up a full bottle of formula, well prepared for the eventuality of having to look after Tommy. It was sort of a well-known fact that Phil exhausted all of his parenting in short bursts of nitro-papa whenever one of his babies was ill, so everyone prepared for being asked to take care of them for respite purposes.

Shaking his head fondly at Puffy’s pre-preparation, Phil's eyes lingered worriedly on his baby for a second, before ripping them away, sure that she would do a great job looking after him. After all, she had been caregiving for much more difficult littles than Tommy, which made for a lot of practice. Instead, he focused his attention on the moody little at the table, heading over there with many many thoughts in his head about what to say to him. But, when he actually got over there, all he could see was tears threatening to fall, and he melted. There was a reason he usually tag teamed being Tommy's CG with Techno and Will. And this was it. Phil could never stay fierce in the face of tears. Especially not from littles. So, instead of getting angry, he just swept the bits of shredded leaf aside, out of a seated Dream’s reach, and sighed. "Hi, little one." He murmured, taking one of Dream’s hands in his own, and massaging the back of it gently. He whined, shaking his head slightly. "m no lil!" he complained, thoroughly miserable, but Phil just took it in his stride, pulling out one of the other chairs around the table, and sitting down.

"You're littler than me right now though, aren't you? And that makes you a little one. You don't have to be really really little like Techno though. You can be a big and strong boy, kay?" Dream just nodded, looking over to Techno, who was stubbornly trying to get the toy weapons out of the chest without help. "But big boys have to have big talks about scaring the little babies, and they have to take their corner time like big boys too." Phil continued, trying his hardest to look serious, as dream’s eyes widened, and he slid off his chair onto phil’s lap. "Nooo! ‘m little baby! No corner!" he whined, trying his hardest to convince the caregiver that he was too little to be punished for what he did. But his efforts were fruitless.

"Nice try, mini milk." Phil ruffled his boy's hair, before pulling him back up to standing. "Now, tell me why you scared Tommy like that? He's very poorly, and you shouting at him didn't help." Phil prompted, holding Dream still as he started trying to twist out of the grip. Silence followed, and Phil's eyebrows dropped. "Dream..." he warned, his voice dropping down. "We can do this another way if you would prefer, but I doubt that’s the issue." Another careful warning, as a tear began to fall down the boy's cheeks. He shook his head, not wanting to speak, but, as Phil used a thumb to wipe it away, he let out a shuddering breath. "He sicky, n you were sads, so I helpin, but...but is just bad." He murmured, letting more tears fall. Phil started to talk, but he was cut off by Dream continuing, as he gazed off at a distant point, not even bearing to look into his daddy's face. "And...and den you were doin stuffs with tom, and mama doin stuff with Ranny, so I got big so ‘m not in way, and got shouty, and Mama says ‘m smol but ‘m no smol, I just got icky tummy cuz wan someon doing stuff with me, not Tommy. Tomm smelly." He whined, stamping his foot as he came to the end of what he was saying, still crying, as realisation dawned over Phil's mind.

"Awe, kiddo. If you were jealous, you could have just said. I’m sure your mama loves both of you a lot of a lot, and I know she doesn't want to make you feel icky. It's just that Tommy is very poorly right now, so he needs lots of hugs and kisses and icky medicines to make him feel better, and Ranny is having a hard day." He explained, trying to help Dream by drying up the boy's tears on the sleeves of his shirt. "Do you remember when you got a really icky tummy and you were so sleepy that you couldn't even hug the puppies they had at your drawing classes?" Phil asked the boy, watching as he nodded sadly. "Tommy's icky tummy is even worse than that time." At this, dream gasped, and tried to run over to the couch, though Phil held him fast. "So you have to be very gentle, and very quiet to him from now on, okay?"

Dream nodded solemnly, looking wise beyond his current years of 4, and stood still once more. A few stray tears still slid down his cheeks, but, for now, he was okay again. Phil, standing up, kept a firm hold of Puffy’s boy's hand, pushing the chair back in, and sweeping Dream into a tight, fatherly hug. "Now. I know your mama loves you lots and lots and lots, but these clothes are all icky from all the running around you did. Shall I come help you get changed into some nice clean and comfy clothes till she is ready? Then we can surprise her!" he proposed as he straightened back up again, his knees aching a little. Dream nodded happily, skipping slightly as they both headed back towards the bedrooms, for yet another change. The clock struck ten am, and Phil sighed heavily. It was going to be a loooooong day.

[blog4snape]

Boggey (1)

Pairing: Student! Severus Snape x F! Professor! Reader

Word Count: ~2.5K

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (no filth here)

Summary: Hogwarts student Snape (18) finds a boggart in the divination classroom one night and has a mental breakdown, divination professor (22)  comforts him. 

Warnings: character having a mental breakdown, sev being a qt, and fluff

Rating: Citrus (no filth here, this is a platonic fic)

Date written: 8/20/2020

~~~~~~

February 1978

“Thank you for volunteering to do this, Severus.” You grinned at your student, the two of you sitting at a table in the center of the room.

He quirked a corner of his lip and gave a quick nod.

“Normally I give these tasks to students in detention,” You sighed as you polished another shell, “But lately there just haven’t been any students misbehaving badly enough to warrant a detention, and I can’t postpone this lesson any longer.” 

He nodded silently and set down the smooth shell he was working on, grabbing a rough one from the crate. 

“I shouldn’t complain that my students haven’t been misbehaving, normally I dislike giving someone a reward for someone else’s punishment, but so be it-” You poured more polish into the cloth and continued the menial task of polishing turtle shells. ‘If only someone invented a spell to do this.’ You thought to yourself, scoffing at your reddened fingertips. “-Oh! Sorry I’m rambling-”

“It’s okay.” He answered quickly as he glanced with a quirk of his brow, as if he was offended you’d even apologize.

“Thank you again. You can forget about the essay due on Monday. Don’t tell anyone else.” You winked at him. “Twenty points to Slytherin.”

He raised his chin and gave you a conspiratory smirk, “Thank you, Professor.” 

You chuckled, “Not a problem, Severus.” 

The two of you working diligently through the first crate of bones and shells helped speed along the process; however, it was getting rather late, the candles surrounding you were steadily shrinking and the room was growing comfortably dim. 

“Let’s take a break.” You stood up and stretched out your back. “The second box is in that corner, could you bring it to the table? It shouldn’t be as heavy as the first. I’m going to go make some tea. Your choice today.” You spoke as you shuffled off, opposite the direction of the box.

“Green.” He announced, cracking each knuckle individually as he stood up to grab the box. 

You riffled through the cabinets and put the green tea canister on the make-shift counter. “Could you open it and see if it’s the right one, love?” You asked him. He hummed in response. You heard him shuffling through crates and boxes in the far corner. 

It happened nearly all at once. The whistle of the kettle set it off, and then soon after was the most gut-wrenching growl you could ever hear. It wasn’t the growl of an ordinary stray mutt that found itself on the grounds. Right after, you heard Severus scream bloody murder. 

You whipped your head around and saw a werewolf standing outside of the crate and Severus frozen in place. You rushed to him, bounding across the array of turtle shells and animal bones on the wooden floor. As soon as you pointed your wand to fight the werewolf, it took on an all-too-familiar form that made all of the blood in your body, just on fire a moment ago, turn cold as ice. Quickly putting two and two together you vanished the boggart, shouting “Riddikulus!” at the top of your lungs. It turned into an innocent stuffed animal, before vanishing altogether.

You finally let out a breath and closed your eyes. For a moment, everything was silent. You turned around to see Severus behind you. You closed your mouth as soon as you saw the tears streaming down his face. You reached out to touch his shoulder. 

“Sev-” You started, only to be cut off by a strangled sob as he grappled onto your shawl as if his life depended on it, collapsing onto the floor in a heap of robes. You followed shortly thereafter, kneeling and holding him.

“Severus, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, as you stroked his hair. He responded only in louder sobs as the tears soaked through your robes. ‘That was the wrong approach,’ You chided yourself in your head. You breathed in slowly and tried again, “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s gone now. You’ll never see it again.” You whispered into his hair, rubbing his back.

He was hiccuping and struggling for air, but made no move to let go and try to breath in. You grabbed his shoulders firmly and pushed him away slightly, so you could look at him. 

“Hey, hey- look at me-” You repeated softly until he stared at you. “Thank you, lovely. Follow my breathing.” You put a hand on his chest and one between his shoulder blades, and sat up on your knees, straightening your back self-consciously. You took a long, slow breath through your nose and waited for him to do the same. You held it for a moment, before exhaling through your mouth slowly. He did the same. “Excellent job, just like that. Breath with me.” You praised him. He gave a desperate nod, and you two continued the same breathing pattern before he finally managed to calm himself down. You smiled at him and stroked his cheek briefly before pulling him into a much less desperate hug this time. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” You cooed into his shoulder. “You did such a great job.” You praised, rubbing his shoulder blades. 

His tears returned, but this time without the hungry gulps of air. His hair tickled your nose and he held onto you tighter. 

Focusing on his now quiet breaths, you almost forgot about the kettle until you heard it bubble and boil over. You fought your natural urge to run over and take it off of the heat, as you didn’t want to startle Severus anymore than he already had been. You figured he was more important than some boiled water, right now. His grip on you loosened and he started furiously rubbing at his red eyes with the sleeve of his robes. You gently took his hands and shook your head. You summoned a handkerchief from your robes and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks, with a loud sniffle accompanied. Smiling in response, you gave his hair a quick stroke before standing from the floor and walking over to the mess of boiling water continuing to spit out of the kettle. 

With a quick flick of your wand, it was cleared up and the green tea was in the preferred cups. Last week you had seen a teacup in Diagon Alley that made you think of Severus, and since he often joined you after classes, you figured he should have a teacup that reminds him he is always welcome. The teacup was black, with several white roses and green snakes curling around the mug like vapor curls out of the steaming drink. Every day since then, you’ve served him tea in that cup, on a matching saucer. Turning around, you saw him sitting at the table again. Handing him his cup, full of the tea he chose, he gave a little smile and he thanked you quietly. 

He was shivering, even the hot tea did not help sate it. You took off your shawl and wrapped it around his shoulders. He curled into it immediately and covered it around himself like saran wrap. The two of you sat in silence, sipping tea.

“Let’s stop for tonight.” You said, as your tea was finished. You looked at the clock. “Oh, Severus, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you after curfew.” 

Severus looked at the clock, also a bit surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it again.

“Here, I’ll walk you back in case Filch finds you.” You announced, standing up and putting the porcelain cups away. 

You turned around and expected Severus to follow you, only to see that he wasn’t. He was sitting at the table, covered in your shawl, hunched over, and trembling still. He was staring at you, brows knit. You walked back to the table. “Severus? What’s the matter?”

He shook his head softly. You focused on the strands of his hair peeking out of the shawl. “I-” He started, before closing his mouth. He looked down at his lap, biting his lips, and continuing to shake his head. The strands of hair caught outside of the shawl waved around with his head. “No.” He stated, plainly.

“No… to what?” You tilted your head. 

“I can’t go to my dorm… I can’t-” He bit his lip so hard it turned white. He got smaller, his shoulders rounded and he hid in the shawl. “I don’t-” He released his lip, the white faded quickly and turned into a deep sanguine. 

You kneeled before him, and held out of your hand. He tentatively released his grip on the shawl and gave you one of his hands. You took it in both of yours, rubbing his bruised and scarred knuckles with your thumbs. You sighed softly, “You don’t want to go back to your dorm?” 

He shook his head.

“Would you be against sleeping in my office?” 

He shook his head and let out a quiet ‘please.’

“Alright.” You gave a quick nod and patted his hand, releasing it. You stood up, and gave him your arm to stand. He quickly took it, but let it go as soon as he found balance and stood up.

After a relatively quiet walk to your office, you opened the door to the scent of the day: pumpkin spice, cinnamon, and nutmeg. You held open the door for Snape. The candles lit up every corner and inch of the room as the both of you waltzed in and incense started to burn. The pit of pillows, blankets and cushions to the side of your office had to be the coziest spot in the entire castle, and it’s a little embarrassing to admit how many times you collapsed on the floor there instead of making it to your actual bed in your chambers. You closed the door with a bit too much force, startling Severus and the odds and ends - not all related to divination - that decorate your shelf, as both of the aforementioned victims jumped and shook slightly. Severus whipped around to face you, with wide eyes that resembled a doe.

“Oh, sorry darling, I didn’t mean to slam the door.” You apologized, scolding yourself in your head. He released a breath and nodded in reassurance, rolling his shoulders back.

You went around the room and picked up some extra quilts that were sprawled on the butterscotch-colored desk chair and the mulberry-colored couch behind it.

He had taken off his robe and folded it in his hands, but kept your shawl on.

“Here love, you can sleep in the pit. It’s more comfortable than that old couch anyways.” You took his robes from him and placed them on a seldom-bare spot on your cluttered desk. He was still in his school uniform and shoes. 

“Do you want to get some night clothes from your dorm? I can walk with you there.” 

He shook his head.

“Alright, whatever you prefer. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

He nodded his thanks and toed off his shoes before climbing into the pit, cocooning himself in your shawl amongst all of the other quilts, covers, pillows, and soft things. 

You waved your wand and started a fire in the hearth. You left for a moment and set a cup of tea and a glass of water down near the pit. Extinguishing the other candles around the room, you kneeled next to his head, barely poking out of the many blankets and stroked his hair for a moment. He wordlessly leaned into your touch.

“I’ll come back to wake you in the morning before breakfast. Need anything before I go?” You spoke softly. His head shot up out of the covers, pillows and cushions falling around him like if he emerged out of a pool of water. 

“Don’t go!” He latched onto your arm with strength rivaling a serpent’s maw. 

“You don’t want to be alone tonight?” You asked. 

He shook his head, cheeks flushed red. Your cheeks matched his. He relinquished his hold. A million thoughts ran a million miles per hour through your head. You desperately wanted to say ‘no this is too inappropriate-’ but you found yourself saying the word, “okay” before your mind even registered what was happening. 

You took a blanket from the pit and a pillow that had been kicked to the side and as you went to stand up and move to the couch, Severus saw where you were headed and moved with the speed of a striking viper and grabbed your ankle as you walked away. You let out a quick shriek and lost your balance for just a moment, before looking down and seeing Severus staring up at you with those dark, frantic doe eyes again. 

“What’s the matter, lovely?” You questioned, clutching at your racing heartbeat under your chest.

He licked his lips and blinked a few times. “Please,” His voice was so quiet, you could hardly hear it over the crackling from the fire. His eyes glittered before drowning in tears. “Hold me,” The tears ran down his face and he held your ankle even tighter. “Like how you,” He sniffled, “did in the classroom.” 

You sighed. “Alright, darling.” Your brain screamed at you for being an idiot.

 He finally let go of your ankle and held up the blankets for you to crawl in. You murmured a quick spell to lock the door, and then kicked off your boots and crawled into the cocoon, facing Severus. He immediately got closer and tucked his nose into your collarbone. He didn’t grab you, but he was still gripping the shawl that smelled strongly of you and wrapped around him snugly. You put an arm underneath him and held him closely, and he sighed in relief. You stroked his cheekbone, wiping his tears with your thumb.  

After his tears stopped falling, you focused on the crackling of the fire and moved to run your fingers through his hair instead. His hair was full of knots so you resorted to just scratching his scalp lightly instead. He sighed again, pushing his face as close as possible to your neck. 

“Thank you,” He breathed lightly, smiling softly against your neck.

“Of course, darling,” You murmured, sleepily. You stared at how the orange glow of the fire formed a halo around Severus’s black hair and felt him smile and breathe out softly against your skin. “Get some rest, lovely. I’ll be right here.” Without any second thought, you pressed a soft kiss to Severus’s forehead and fell asleep to the feeling of a giggle vibrating across on your neck and the sound of the fire crackling in front of you.

~~~

A/N: This one shot is a part of a greater story with a masterlist that I’ll post later

Read Part 2 Here! 

[zoraalja]

prompt: foster • words: 1,041 • era: childhood • [ masterpost ] encourage or promote the development of something, typically something regarded as good.

Blood bloomed between her fingers. It stretched farther and farther out from the wound she desperately sought to cover, rivulets racing through the fragile lines in her skin with every frantic pulse of her heart.

As the determined gush of red sank into the sleeve of her robes, so to did the fear settle in her chest, finding a place to nest where the sudden, searing pain had been moments before. Tears followed. They bit at her eyes, causing them to burn as she bit down hard on her bottom lip — hard enough to pucker the skin of her chin, hard enough to ease the hurried throb of her pulse in her knee.

The fabric of her leggings had frayed the moment she landed in the gravel, as if the garment was made of thread and air. Beneath, her skin had not put up a more valiant fight. No, it broke as if the tender flesh had been longing for it.

Dusting half a palmful of tiny stones from her bloody knee, Bianca clamped down onto her molars. It was all she could do to keep from whimpering like a child.

“Stupid,” she spat. Not far off, she noticed a man approaching, one likely thrice her age and then some. She rubbed her hands together to remove what was left of the debris, cringing when the pressure turned to a reminder of the scrape on the fat of her palm, tasting a curse when she realized she'd only succeeded in smearing more blood on herself. The wrinkle between her brows eased, less from relief than from an utter lack of surprise. “Oh, gods. Oh, gods gods gods.”

Folly after folly.

The man pushed his pace from a brisk walk into a jog, crossing the wooden bridge between the Adder's Nest to where she sat, fallen in a pile of robes and disappointment. His white hair bounced with every step, glasses reflecting the pale glint of the early morning sun. The guildmaster – of course. Her mother rarely had a bad word to say about anyone, but Beatin...

Bianca hurried where she could hurry, her small mouth twisting downward in a grimace as she pushed her palms into the stair at her side to lift herself up off of the ground. Setting both feet on the ground was a painful possibility. There was nothing broken, to be sure, but the sting of moving the torn skin of her knee was enough to keep her from leaning all of her weight onto the injured leg.

She glanced around wildly, the fear in her chest fragmenting behind her wide eyes as her head pivoted in every direction. The Aethyryte plaza was bustling, crowded elbow-to-elbow as men and women arrived in the city for one of a million different reasons, but not one of them had taken more than a brief notice of her.

None except Beatin.

Heat rushed into her round cheeks, filling them up with red akin to the slow spread of blood around the tattered remains of the knee of her leggings.

Fate sought to rid her of shame by exposing her to it, time and again, like a lesson she didn't want to learn. And as his long strides came to a sudden stop in front of her, she craned her neck  back  to look up at the tall elezen man, tears flooding her honey-colored eyes.

“Hurt yourself, did you?”

It sounded like an accusation rather than a question, relieved rather than worried. Where someone else might have peered down at her with a stare softened by empathy and understanding, he loomed, sounding more dismayed than sympathetic.

“Y-Yes,” was all Bianca could manage to stammer as she stood awkwardly in the man's silhouette. His surprisingly broad shoulders blocked out the glow and the warmth of the sun, leaving only the harsh lines of his long body to form a chilly stretch of shadow. An explanation of the events that led to her injury stalled on her tongue, instead replaced with a dejected little, “I fell.”

Beatin lifted his glasses with one hand and rubbed the point of his chin in the other.

“Don't you work for the Conjurer's guild?” he asked once he got a good, long look at the dropping blossom of blood and broken skin on her knee. He dropped his spectacles back down onto the curve of his nose's bridge. “Can't you just heal yourself?”

“Can't I...” A twist of shame forced her body into a shy sway, twisting on her good leg as she looked everywhere but his face. Even the bloody gravel was a more welcoming thing to look at. “I...  I didn't —”

I didn't think I could do that. Beatin turned and took the first step into the building that housed  the Carpenter's guild. He stopped before the second and turned, looking back at her with a pale, furrowed brow. “It's just a scrape, girl,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the bloodied meat of her knee. “Patch yourself up and move on. We've all got work to do.”

As he turned away from the last time, she caught a murmur of something under his breath:

“Gods, I thought she'd actually hurt herself.”

A tremble overtook her bottom lip. Her hands curled together, oblivious to the drying blood on both as she brought them to her chest.

This is nothing. Bianca summoned up the words in a swell that rose in her chest to overcome the tonic of fear and shame that coated her belly. She steeled herself before taking an unsteady step forward, away from the shade of the guild's building and into the day's warmth. Just a scrape. Hurt yourself, did you? Patch yourself up.

Can't you just heal yourself?

His words stitched together in a quilt that she threw over her shoulders for protection. It was a heavy thing, dragging behind her heels in the gravel and the grass, but still, she managed to carry it.

It wasn't even worth wasting the energy on to heal.

She would wash her hands and stitch the knee of her leggings, and no one would remember the girl they saw fall to the ground without so much as a yelp or a frightened cry.

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.3.6. SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st

Warren County, Illinois

There was a knock at her bedroom door.

Leighton lifted her head and puffed the blond hair out of her eyes with her mouth, taking a glance at her Hello Kitty alarm clock. ‪8:57‬.

Fuck Diego, I told you to text me. She thought as she cleared her throat.

“Come in.”

Mya walked in the room.

And as if it wasn't weird enough for Mya to be walking in the room---seriously, she wasn't even on Leighton's radar of people who would be walking into her bedroom at that moment---it was even more weird that Mya appeared to be dressed like some sort of leopard. Even the remains of some face paint was smeared all over her round brown cheeks and streaking down her neck.

“Mya?” Leighton croaked as she turned over in her bed, “What are you doing here? Who even let you in?”

Mya plopped down on the end of Leighton's bed. “Your mom did. What are you still doing in bed?”

“My mom is awake?” Leighton lay on her back and looked at the ceiling.

“Yeah, she's up and watching the news like everyone else. Seriously she starts drinking really early. Not even ten and she's got her a bottle of wine.”

Leighton sat back up on her elbows and frowned, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Why aren't you watching the news?” Mya asked, “I heard about it on the radio. I was on my way home but I didn't want to go home just yet. I don't want to hear any shit from my mom and with what went on last night, I'm sure I'll hear my fair share.”

Leighton shook her head with exasperation, “What?”

“Girl..haven't you seen all the trucks parked outside? Turn on the news! Where's your remote for this TV”.

Leighton pointed to her vanity and swung her legs off the bed, sitting up. “It's over there, knock yourself out I guess.”

Mya padded across the room and scooped up the remote. Leighton yawned and trudged out of the room toward the bathroom. A few minutes later she found Mya at the end of her bed glued to the television.

Leighton sat at her vanity and began to brush her perfect hair on her perfect head. What she saw on the television in the mirror's reflection made her stop. She turned around.

Mya had switched to the local news. An aerial shot showed Haddonfield's hospital in flames. A banner at the bottom of the screen read: HALLOWEEN HORROR IN SMALL TOWN. The news anchor's voice was droning: “So far twenty people are confirmed dead by Warren County Sheriff's office but when pressed if this twenty persons all came from the hospital or from other unconfirmed incidents we were told by our contact within the police department that they, and I quote, 'could not comment at this time'. Someone who may have answers we need however is Channel 7 reporter Holly West who has been covering ‪this night‬ of terror for this small Illinois town all night, she is down there live outside the hospital, Holly are you there?”

Leighton's mouth gaped open in a state of shock and amazement. She slowly put the brush down on the vanity and sat down on the bed next to Mya slowly.

🎃

Valentina Sequera sat on the shabby futon inside the trailer, cellphone in her hands, eyes glued on the old fashioned square television. She pushed her curly black hair, going gray in some places, out of her face, and watched as the news switched from the aerial shot of the burning hospital, to the pretty, albeit tired looking blonde news anchor on the ground.

Channel 7 Reporter Holly West stood in the parking lot of the hospital, the smoking building in the background. Beside her was an Hispanic woman that looked very familiar to Valentina.

I think we go to the same church, she thought.

“Holly West here, live from outside the scene at Haddonfield County-General Medical Center. I'm here with Rosalita, she was inside the hospital having just given birth to her new baby boy...first of all, are you and your baby okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Rosalita answered in an accent not as thick as Valentina's. “Thankfully to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, and all the Saints me and my new baby boy Rogelio are doing just fine.”

“Glad to hear that,” Holly replied smiling, “Now you were inside the hospital. Can you tell us what you experienced?”

“Yes ma'am,” the woman replied respectably, “my son was born ‪around 11:30‬ and we were resting in our room around 2, close to ‪2:30‬ when I hear a gunshot.”

“A gunshot!?” Holly looked surprisingly at the camera and then back at Rosalita, “We haven't heard reports yet of a gunshot, are you sure it was a gunshot?”

“Si..uh..yes ma'am,” the woman smiled knowingly, “mi husband...my ex-husband that is...he used to shoot guns...so I know the gun sound...and I would have to say it was definitely shotgun.”

Holly West's eyebrows did not fall, “Well you heard it here first ladies and gentlemen, shots fired at the hospital. Then what happened?”

Valentina couldn't pay attention. She picked up her phone, scrolled down into the contacts to the very common pet name hispanic mothers give their sons: MI GORDO and then hit CALL.

Straight to voicemail.

“Hola, dis' Diego, leave a message por favor... dejame un mensaje...”

She cut him off and dropped the phone in her lap. Her legs shook nervously.

Diego and his stupid Spanglish, she thought to herself in Spanish. She glanced at the clock on the wall. The bright green iguana mounted to the disc decorated in cacti and hues of southwest teals, purples, and pinks had his tail on the one and his head close to the nine indicating it was ‪9:05‬.

No need to worry really, she thought, it hasn't been that long. He may still be at the shop. He may have went to a friend's house. Her mind thought of the names of any of Diego's friends. Quinn...was that one? She asked herself. She glanced back at the TV, Rosalita was talking.

“Then Sherriff Brackett came in and took me and my baby to hide in a closet...”

Holly West cut her off, “A closet?”

“Yes,” Rosalita smiled nervously, she was searching for the right words in English, “like for medical supply and stuff.”

Holly West smiled and nodded, “Oh ok, a big supply closet.”

“Si..uh..yes. And then he go look to for help.”

“And then he went to go look for help?”

“Si...yes.”

“And did you see Sheriff Brackett again?” Holly asked.

“No.”

“What time was this?”

“Not long after we got in room, maybe 2...2:30.”

Valentina could only think of one more thing to do. She picked up the large white old fashioned cordless landline phone that lay on the couch beside her. Quickly, she scrolled through the history on the small digital display screen, found the number she wanted, and hit the CALL BACK button.

🔪

Leighton and Mya had moved to the living room. Leighton sat on the small sofa, wrapped in a quilt. The temperature outside had dropped considerably over the night. For the first time in several months the air conditioning was off and the house had a drafty damp feel. The world was gray and misty outside of the large regal windows of the mayoral mansion's living room.

Mya sat on the floor in front of the sofa next to the large glass coffee table. She had swiped Leighton's disposable make-up removal wipes from the bathroom, and now had a nice pile of gold and black stained wipes on the surface of the glass, right next to a large cup of orange juice.

Leigh Ann Roderick-Dodge, Leighton's mother and the wife of Haddonfield's unhonorable mayor, lay on the opposite, but matching sofa. Her head at one end, her feet on the other. She was beautiful, a former model in her twenties, she still looked gorgeous even with no make-up and her blonde hair tossed up in a messy bun at the top of her head. She was still dressed in a robe, and indeed, she held a large goblet of chardonnay in one hand and the television remote in the other. At the moment, all were fixated on Holly West's interview with Rosalita from the hospital.

“Did you notice when the power went out?” Holly asked.

“Si..there was big lightning strike and then...boom. No lights.” Rosalita made hand motions to illustrate the lightning.

“So you think the lightning knocked out the power?”

Rosalita nodded exhuberantly, “Definitely.”

“About what time was this?”

“We were there..about two hours...4 maybe..4:30.”

Leighton's phone went off. She looked at the screen: DIEGO HOME. She smirked to herself and hit the green button.

“What's up fucker? Thought you'd be sleeping.” She answered.

Mya laughed. Her mother glared at her. “Leighton Michelle!” She hissed, and took a sip of wine.

There was a pause on the other end and then she heard a woman's voice, in a thick hispanic accent say, “Um...yes..this Leighton? This is Diego's mom...Valentina.”

Leighton sat up on the couch and put her hand to her mouth to suppress a gasp. “Oh Miss Sequira, I'm so sorry, I thought you were Diego.”

“Is okay,” Valentina said, “So he not with you. You know where he is?”
Leighton frowned. Why would Diego not be home. “No ma'am, I haven't seen him since he went into work yesterday.”

“He no tell you where he is?” Valentina struggled to say.

“No ma'am,” Leighton said, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Si..ok...thank you.”

Leighton clicked the red button and looked at the television. The banner at the bottom of the screen that moments ago had read: TERROR IN HADDONFIELD...now read: EYEWITNESS: SHOTS FIRED AT HOSPITAL.

Diego should have been home and in bed by now, she thought. And he said he was going to text me. She looked at her messages. No texts.

He probably went drinking with that guy Quinn from work.

She looked back at the TV. She read a part of the ticker at the very bottom of the screen: ...ITNESS REPORTS POWER WENT OUT AT HOSPITAL AFTER LIGHTNING STRI...

The storm, her mind exploded. He probably didn't go home after work because of the storm. He probably spent the night in the break-room. He had done it before, a few times, mostly when business got slow and he and Quinn had gotten drunk. She thought about calling Diego's mother back to set her mind at ease. She would have definitely called his work first, she thought. At least I hope.

Leighton picked up her phone and scrolled down into her contacts where it said DIEGO SUPERFUEL and hit the green button again.

She got a three chord tone. “I'm sorry but the number you are trying to reach is not in service.”

“Ok that's weird,” she said to herself as she ended the call.

“What?” Mya asked, eyes still on the screen which was now dominated once more by overhead shots of the burning hospital.

“Nothing,” she said to herself. But now she was beginning to worry.

🎃

Valentina had indeed tried the work phone number first and had gotten the same operator message. She got up from the couch and went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of lemonade from the fridge. The news reporter droned on from the television after her.

“If you are just joining us, we now have a witness account from inside the hospital stating that they heard shots fired before the power went out and before the explosion. I believe we now have to consider the possibility that some act of terrorism may have occurred in Haddonfield last night. We are going to replay that interview with a young mother who was in the hospital celebrating the birth of her new baby boy---”

Valentina sat down, took a sip of the lemonade and picked up the cordless phone once again. She dialed her son's cellphone number.

“Hola, dis' Diego, leave...”

She threw the phone down on the cushion next to her in disgust

NEXT>>

[j-hawthorn]

A Pleasant Day Off

(Cheeky little VetVimes. Mildly hot and heavy! It’s also posted over on AO3 here!)

---

There was something about dried cranberries that really rubbed Sam Vimes the wrong way. Why take a perfectly average berry, and make it a smaller, sadder version of itself? The ones in the bowl in front of him were sour.

Peeling an orange, Vimes leaned back in his chair, and rubbed sleep from his eyes with his sleeve. It was a surprisingly quiet day. He had woken at around mid-morning to Sybil kissing him awake. After a delightful forty minutes of enjoying his large, soft wife, (mostly between those glorious thighs of hers), he had been pushed out of bed and went to shave.

Technically this was his day off. But Sam couldn't help feel like it was more of a house arrest. He was under strict instructions not to leave the grounds. It was drilled into him before she left, that if Sybil caught the slightest whiff of his leaving, he would be in for a world of disappointed looks and extremely pointed sighs. He couldn't bear the thought.

Wiping orange juice from his chin, Sam yawned, crossing his legs at the ankles. The sun had made its way through the murk of the city. It was, he thought, a good day to have a smoke in the garden.

Nipping through the kitchens, Vimes nabbed himself a freshly baked bread roll that he slathered in butter and jam, grinning to himself at the simple pleasure.

The years of food scarcity he (and pretty much everyone else he knew) had endured never really left him, and instead meant that he still relished the simple joys of a good piece of warm bread. You could always trust warm bread. He was glad he'd kept that part of himself. The one that knew to take what he could get and hold on. It came from a harder life. Now in theory he could snap his fingers and have anything he wanted, yet Vimes clung to the memories of what it was like. He needed to remember. He owed it to his past self. And to those who it was their every day.

Vimes found a bench at the base of a large tree. He sat with his back against the trunk, legs stretched out, arms folded and chin resting on his chest. In the warm he almost nodded off. Vimes fell into that half waking doze, where he could still hear everything around him, but was pleasantly fuzzy.

To his left a twig very pointedly snapped. He huffed, not moving, 'So, what brings you here, then?'

There was a soft laugh, and the light swish of robes. Vimes felt someone sit beside him. 'Perhaps,' said the visitor. 'I have come to visit the Duke on his day off, or to bring him some documents worthy of his attention.'

Sam cracked an eye open, 'You got something?'

Havelock Vetinari smirked, 'Goodness me, no. I wouldn't dare go against Lady Sybil like that.'

Vimes huffed, closing his eye and shifting into an even more slouched position, 'So, a social visit then.'

'Is that so odd?'

'Depends on who you ask, I suppose.'

Their shoulders brushed, 'As you're the only one here, commander, it's obvious I'm asking you.'

Sam was quiet for a moment. He sat up, fishing his cigar case and lighter from his pockets. 'I haven't seen you for a while,' he said finally. He leaned forward, arms braced on his knees and sent a puff of smoke up into the breeze. 'Outside of work, that is.'

Birds chirped overhead. There was a soft sigh beside him, followed by the light tapping of a single fingernail on a cane. 'And that is...regrettable.'

Vimes chuckled, shaking his head. He stood, hands on his hips and leaned back, joints cracking. 'Come on,' he said, gently nudging Havelock's foot with his own. 'I'll pop the kettle on -' he paused to scratch his chin, 'Actually, I think Sybil got some of those little cakes you're so fond of stashed away somewhere.'

'Capital.'

The men sat in the drawing room, a pot of tea steaming between them. Sam puffed on his cigar; arm folded beneath his head. Fingertips brushed his lips. He cocked a brow, letting Havelock steal the cigar from him. His tall companion stretched his legs out, and slouched, sending his own cloud of smoke into the room.

One hand resting on his stomach, Havelock turned, and caught Sam’s eye. Vimes gave a half smile, turning his attention to the long fingers that held his cigar. Vetinari’s sleeve had slipped down, exposing his pale wrist. Sam swallowed, reaching over to lightly touch the back of his hand, pulling it towards himself.

‘Really, Vimes, if you wanted your cigar back, you could simply have said so -’ Sam pressed his lips to the underside of that wrist and Havelock stopped speaking. He took the cigar from him, stubbing it out in his empty teacup, not once releasing his hold of Vetinari’s hand. He shifted closer, their knees bumping.

'You always are a surprise, Sam,' Havelock whispered. Vimes looked up to catch his eye and smiled at the pleasing pinkness that rose on his cheeks. Vetinari moved. Settling on Sam's lap, an arm snaked around his shoulders, he pressed himself close, forehead resting against Sam's.

He wouldn't say it out loud, but Sam had missed him. Missed this. He let one hand trail down Havelock's spine, the other resting on his hip. He kissed his neck, eliciting a stifled moan from him. Thin fingers bunched the fabric on his shoulders. Sam tightened his arm around the small of Havelock's back, his other hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Teeth grazed his thumb, and Sam grunted in approval.

'How's your leg?' Vimes asked, nipping playfully at Vetinari's earlobe.

'...Not great,' Came the quiet reply.

Sam sighed, resting his chin on his shoulder. He clapped Havelock on the back, 'Rightio then, come on.' With as much care as he could muster, Sam scooped him into his arms, carrying him out of the room.

Havelock frowned, 'Oh, honestly, do you really think this is necessary?'

'Yup!'

Vimes carried him easily upstairs, ignoring his huffs and grumbles. He nudged open the bedroom door, kicking it shut behind them. Carefully, He placed Havelock on the bed and sat beside him, working on the laces of his shoes. He eased them off, tossing them to the floor.

'Right, what's something that'll help? Sybil's got some ointments for...Well, everything, in the bathroom -'

'Sam-'

'I think there's a hot water bottle in there too, actually -'

'Shut up and get over here.'

Vimes, for once, did as he was told. He lay down beside Havelock, chin resting on folded arms. Vetinari rolled onto his side, palm on Sam's cheek. His touch was warm, and Vimes found himself turning his head to press a kiss to his palm.

'I didn't come here for you to fuss,' Havelock said. 'I came here to see you -'

'Yeah, I gathered that-'

'I missed you.'

Brows notched, Vimes leaned in, kissing him softly. 'Yeah,' He muttered against his lips. 'I uh...Yeah,' he sighed, looking into Vetinari's eyes. His companion smiled softly and stroked his cheek before carefully pulling Vimes on top of himself. The commander chuckled, and while he was mindful of his bad leg, he didn't hesitate to grab Havelock's other thigh.

Vetinari dragged his nails up under Sam's shirt, making him shiver. Sam shifted to straddle his hips, keeping his weight on his knees. He pulled his shirt off, and Vetinari ran his calculating fingers over the planes of his chest.

'That's new,' He tutted, finger tips tracing a fresh scar along Sam's ribs.

Vimes just shrugged his shoulder. He fumbled with the tiny buttons on Havelock's top, frowning. The bastard simply smiled, watching Sam struggle and was no bloody help at all.

Sam huffed, 'Seriously, what is with all this?'

'Do you have a problem with my fashion choices?' Vetinari chuckled, running a hand through Sam's hair.

'I do when you're bloody done up tighter than a ducks ars-'

A hand clamped over his mouth, 'I'm going to stop you right there, Sir Samuel. None of that, now.'

Sam smirked under his hand, and nipped at his skin. Vetinari rolled his eyes, nimbly undoing his own buttons in a matter of seconds. Vimes watched as his layers were removed. He leaned in, kissing along Havelock's now exposed chest.

Hands combed through his hair and soon the pair were lost in one another. They both shed the rest of their clothing. Strong, sword calloused hands roamed while delicate, long fingers pressed and pulled. Moans were muffled by hard kisses, open mouthed and urging.

By the time they eventually eased themselves apart, Sam's back was covered with scratches and Havelock's neck and shoulders were red with bites. Vimes panted, his entire body fizzing as he gently guided his lover to lay among the plethora of pillows. He pulled the heavy quilt over them both, pulling Havelock close. He settled against him, chin on his shoulder, Havelock's hand in his hair.

Vimes yawned, eyes half closed. He chuckled softly to himself, nuzzling into both Havelock and the pillows. He sunk into the bedding with a small smile.

A kiss was pressed to the top of his head. 'What are you giggling about?' Vetinari asked.

Sam snorted, blinking up at him, 'So, two questions. One: When did you and Sybil concoct this little plan? And two: Has it gone how you hoped?'

'...Last week. And the plan isn't over yet,' Vetinari chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Sam, chin on top of his head. 'I lost track of time while you were doing that thing with your tongue, but, at some point, Sybil is joining us.'

'...But she went shopping.'

'Yes, and I believe it was to Mr. Scrope's... Establishment.'

'...Oh...'

Havelock chuckled, kissing the top of his head again, 'I hear he has a new line of leather pieces that are quite delicate, yet durable.'

Sam sunk further under the blankets; his forehead now pressed against Havelock's chest. 'Well then...' He muttered, cheeks burning red at the thought of his wife, and leather, and whatever interesting little trinkets and toys she'd no doubt bring home to experiment with.

He smiled, hugging Havelock, eyes closing. This really was going to be a damn fine day off.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Seven

It had been two days since she arrived at the Burrow for holiday. 

Within that time Hermione has done her absolute best to avoid the entirety of the family. Well, specifically a certain gangly, freckled git. 

Most hours she didn’t spend reading, the guilt was gnawing at her for being such an awful, unappreciative guest. She’d avoid meals when she could, but in the event she couldn’t evade Molly, Hermione would eat as quickly as she could before excusing herself. 

Ginny, like her mother, was very perceptive and quickly caught onto what was happening. Oftentimes the girl would peel whatever book Hermione had been latching onto away from her hands and practically force her down the steps. And in the event Ginny successfully got Hermione to the living room, she’d just sit idly and watch the family interact, never interjecting herself. 

Harry had stopped by from time to time, thankfully he never pried her from the bed, but surprisingly, he did make her talk. He knew, probably from Ron, of what Harry phrased as her ‘ridiculous’ plan to stay out of his way. When the conversation started turning to anything Ron, or even worse, Lavender related, she’d excuse herself and venture out into the garden. 

And besides the three parties mentioned, no one really bothered her. 

Fred and George did their best to get a laugh from her on the occasion she was downstairs. Mr.Weasley would greet Hermione warmly and ask if she’s heard from her parents. 

She hasn’t. Not since the day after she arrived. They had sent a brief letter informing their daughter that they arrived in France, they loved her, and that they would write soon. Despite their silence, Hermione still wrote them everyday for any answers. 

Bill, Charlie, and Fleur had just taken to small talk, but Hermione usually halted it, never allowing herself to get invested in conversation. Something she’d usually do. 

And as for Ron, well, some nights Hermione swears she hears his loud, familiar steps shuffling outside the door as he whispers with Ginny. But, whenever the door opened, it was just Ginny and Ginny alone. These instances always disappointed Hermione for some silly reason. 

Now, on the night before Christmas Eve, something she dreaded so much knowing she’d be unable to evade Mrs.Weasley’s insistence she join them, she sat in the garden. 

Normally this is where she’d retreat if Ginny or Harry had taken to pestering her from the camp bed she was now seemingly glued to. Or often the contents of her prized book were too heavy, and the fresh air eased her. But tonight, she came out for a different reason. That reason being, the sight of her trunk had begun to make her sick. 

Inside it held hope. Something she had lost months ago. 

When her parents originally agreed to let her stay at the Weasley’s for Christmas (not under the pretense of a possibly dying Arthur), she was ecstatic. Immediately she began searching for the perfect gifts.   

For Molly, she had found a lovely welcome mat with small embroidered stars around the thick lettering. It would look perfect on the front steps. 

For Arthur, a Muggle alarm clock. It was both practical and for him, fascinating. 

She had picked up a broom cleaning kit down in Diagon Alley. Harry was attached to his Firebolt, so Hermione figured he’d appreciate it. In addition, she had a picture printed of him and Sirius from last Christmas. The brunette just hoped she wasn’t over stepping with that one. 

For Ginny she had gone with a few hair clips similar to the ones the ginger told her she liked over the summer. That and of course, a book on the best female quidditch players who ever lived. 

Hermione had been perusing a Muggle shop before coming to the Burrow over the summer, and there were the perfect gifts for the twins. A Muggle joke book along with a bag of whoopee cushions. They were harmless, but would surely keep the pair thoroughly entertained. 

Ron had informed Hermione early on about Charlie, Bill, and Fleur joining them for Christmas, so she was able to pick something up for them. For Charlie, she decided to go with something practical being this would be the first time they would meet. A few bottles of dittany (known to help burns and scratches from Dragons) along with a baby picture of Noberta, was what she had gone with. Bill and Fleur, being newly engaged, Hermione had gone with a joint gift. She had struck gold when she found a brilliant take on the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts shields combined. Something to remind them both of where they came from. 

And as for Ron, well, now she was afraid her original gift may be too personal for where they stood right now. She had gotten the idea from a talk they had back in fourth year, when he was fighting with Harry... 

“Where have you been?” Ron asked Hermione as she entered the common room. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just worried. 

At this, she flushed red, “I was uh, talking to Harry.” At this he made a noise of disgust, “well I wouldn’t exactly call it talking.” 

And for the briefest moment Ron paled, imagining the pair of them snogging. 

“What do you mean?” He barely managed, fumbling over his words. 

“Well,” she blushed again, “I mostly yelled and he well, he just stood there.” Hermione admitted sheepishly. 

“Why’d you yell at Harry?” Not that he was opposed to the action. 

And just like that she’s fired up again. Her hair crackles at the thought, “it’s completely unfair the way he’s treating you Ron! And I’m not going to let him get away with it.” She tutted. 

He stared at her in amazement, “but you told me you didn’t think he put his name in.” He pointed out softly. 

Hermione squirmed, “I don’t think he did, but that doesn’t give him the right to treat you the way he is. I suppose you tried to speak with him Ron and though I think he told you the truth, he didn’t have to be such an-” she paused, “he didn’t have to be so rude about it!” 

“Bloody hell! You were about to swear.” The smile on his face only grew. 

“No I wasn’t!” The brunette quickly defended, “anyway, he doesn’t understand it Ron. You’d think he would, you two are closer than I am to either of you.” Her voice dropped. 

The smile he was wearing soon slipped, “that’s not true Hermione.” If only she knew... 

At this, she remained silent, eyes trained on the fire. 

“What doesn’t he understand?” Ron whispers after a moment. 

Finally, her brown eyes meet his and she sighs, “Ron I know you better than you think I do.” If only he knew...

At this his face scrunched in confusion, imploring her to elaborate. 

“You don’t particularly care if Harry actually put his own name in or not, you just care that he’s making you feel second best.” She whispered, worried he’d react in red hot anger. 

Shocking them both, he merely gulped, “yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He admitted. 

“Oh Ron,” she said sadly, “I don’t know how it feels, being an only child, but you have to know when I think of you, I think of you alone.” Hermione confesses bravely. 

“What do you mean?” He dares to push her for more. 

“I don’t think of how Bill may be a brilliant Curse Breaker, or how Charlie is bravely taming Dragons, I don’t think about how Percy was Head Boy and expect you to want that too. Even the twins, whenever you make me laugh, I don’t compare it to how much they make me laugh. Ginny too, she may be brilliant at Quidditch but that doesn’t make you any worse.” 

He stares at her in shock, she takes this as confusion and goes on. 

“What I mean is Ron, is that you’re you, Ronald Weasley, and I don’t want you to be anyone else. I don’t expect you to be like anyone else, alright? If I wanted to be best friends with any other Weasley I would, but I’m not, amI? Am I even making sense?” She rambles, desperate for him to speak. 

Catching his breath, Ron nods and faces her, “I think I know what you’re trying to say Hermione.” A small smile finds its way across her face, “it’s just hard, when you’ve never had anything of your own, part of you feels like them. Does that sound mental?” 

His mind flashes to all the robes, books, bed sheets, and toys he’s shared with his siblings. 

In Bill’s old shoes, he feels like he has to be braver. 

Whenever he’s reading one of Charlie’s old Charms books, he feels like he has to be daring. 

In Percy’s robes, he has the sudden urge to make sure everyone’s doing what’s right. 

When his Mum gave him a mixture of Fred and George’s old quilts, he felt like he had to make his dormitory laugh whenever he was nestled underneath them.  

Even Ginny, his youngest sister, whenever he shared the family owl with her, Ron felt like his letter had to be an inch longer than hers. 

“It doesn’t sound mental Ron.” She assures, and the look in her eyes conveys nothing but understanding, it warms his heart. 

He huffs quietly, “Harry, I mean, he was my friend, and now, everyone’s gonna go around and want that too. And he’ll probably let them because what am I next to someone like Cedric Diggory?” He admitted. 

“Hey,” her hand fell atop his knee making him look at her with wide eyes, “you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, I wouldn’t trade you for a dozen Cedric Diggory’s.” Hermione gave his knee a small squeeze. 

And the action, the expression on her face, it all felt so sincere. So real. 

Bravely, he grabbed her small hand from where it was resting on his leg and held it snugly. 

“Thank you for yelling at Harry, it must’ve been wicked.” He teased with a light laugh. 

A chuckle moved past her lips, “that’s not exactly the word the first years who watched would use.” She said blushing. 

Ron beamed even more at this, imagining a feisty Hermione scaring away little first years as she took her anger out on the chosen one. 

“Ron, I just wanted to let you know,” she’s looking away, suddenly feeling shy, “that if you’d have me you know, I’m yours. Just yours.” It’s nothing but a whisper, barely heard over the crackling fire. 

The breath leaves his mouth so fast, it’s like a dementor’s kissing him. Quickly, he berates himself for allowing himself to think she means as anything more than friends. He’ll take it anyway. He thinks he’d take anything she has to offer. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, “yeah I’d definitely like that.” 

A grin etches its way across her features as she twines their fingers together. 

They sat like that the rest of the night. Not letting go even when Dean and Seamus eyed them from nearby. 

It wasn’t a grand gesture or declaration of love, but it was the start to the possibility of something more. And as Hermione spent the remainder of her night holding his hand as they talked in hushed whispers, Ron realized she could’ve been anywhere else. But instead, she was here. 

And for the first time in Ron Weasley’s life, he felt like the first choice. 

When recalling that night on the common room couch, something always stands out in Hermione’s brilliant mind. 

The fact that Ron said he’d never had anything that felt like his own. So with that in mind and the ever growing feelings the witch had blossomed for him, Hermione decided on something bold. 

It wasn’t exactly an ‘I love you’, but it was personal to him, and if he had cared that much about her to read into it, well he might figure out how important to her he really is. The fact that she’s cataloged just about every interaction they’ve had in the past six years. 

Wanting to convey as much without spelling it out, she had found a lovely oak whittled Wizarding Chess set. And in the box that held it, she had gotten ‘Property of Ron Weasley’ carved on the top. 

She’d even preemptively written the card: 

‘Something to call yours, Happy Christmas Ron. 

Love, Hermione.’ 

She had signed plenty of letters to him with those four letters, but part of her hoped that the note coupled with the gift may wake something within him. The possibility he feels the same way. 

However, she knows now that isn’t the case. It can’t be. Not when Lavender Brown will be waiting for him when they return to Hogwarts. 

So here she is, out in the garden, the Weasley’s garden no less, her precious book thrown aside, contemplating on whether or not she should give the gift. 

The selfish part of her says no. Hermione tells herself he doesn’t deserve anything from her after how he’s made her feel. 

Her morals scream otherwise. They’re telling her she’s the one who expected anything more than friendship from him and that she’s stupid to get so upset because he didn’t feel the same. 

Weighing her options, Hermione makes the quick choice to just give him the damn thing. One last act of friendship. A goodbye of sorts. 

She closes her eyes in pain, she just wants him happy, even if it kills her. And if that means distancing herself from him, then so be it. 

For the smartest witch of her age, she sure is oblivious to the fact that inside, only meters away, Ron is feeling the exact same way. 

...

“You know I don’t like how she just sits out there. She’s so far away.” Ron comments boldly from his place on the couch. 

“Ronnie, she’s not that far, you can see her from the window.” Fred says. 

“I don’t think he exactly meant physical distance.” Bill commented over the book he was reading, making the room laugh, as Fleur elbowed him harshly. 

He blushes, “shove off! The lot of you, I just mean that things aren’t exactly safe.” He points out. 

Ginny scoffs from the couch, “please Ron, the wards here are almost as tight as the ones at Hogwarts.” She points out. 

Bill speaks again, “yeah, Dumbledore himself helped put them up. He came by here with Mad Eye over the summer while we stayed at Grimmauld place.” 

Ron sighed, “you still don’t know, I mean, look at Charlie. He just waltzed on up.” He defended. Harry seemed to agree, but said nothing. 

“Well to be fair Ronnie, I know exactly where the Burrow is, I reckon You-Know-Who and his followers could care less about where a bunch of pure bloods live.” Charlie pointed out. 

“Technically, we’re blood traitors.” Ron commented. 

They ignored this, “anyway, there is an apparition line, why do you think I walked up from the pond? That’s where it ends.” He reminds. 

“Still it’s rather close and look at Hermione, she’s not far off from the pond at the edge of the garden.” The youngest Weasley boy says peering out the window again, watching as the witch reads that same damned book soundly under a tree. 

The twins began to laugh, “you sound almost as paranoid as Harry over there.” Fred teased causing the dark haired boy to give him a small shove, but a grin played on his lips no less. 

“Ickle Ronniekins just wants his girlfriend inside so she’ll finally talk to him.” George reminded.

Ron opened his mouth, no doubt to say something nasty to his brothers, before Bill stopped him, “even if someone did apparate we’d hear it first Ron.” 

“Yeah,” Ginny chimed in, “we heard Charlie the other night.” 

“Exactly.” The eldest Weasley agreed. 

“Ron if you are so worried you could always go out there too, no?” Fleur suggested with raised brows and a mischievous smile. 

At this Bill proudly kissed her cheek as the room erupted in snickers as the blonde joined the fun. 

“Yeah Ickle, listen to the last, why don’t you go sit with her? Unless...” he began knowingly. 

“Unless what Fred?” George asked his twin. 

“Unless little Hermione would rather be taken by death eaters than spend time with Ronniekins.” 

 “That’s not even something to joke about Fred!” Ron boomed angrily, suddenly feeling faint at the idea of the likes of someone like Malfoy’s dad anywhere near Hermione. 

“Alright.” Charlie said standing, “Ron, don’t you have reading to do or something?” He asks his heaving brother who looks like he’s about to pounce on Fred. 

Surely, this calms his breathing, “right, reading.” He says gruffly, quickly exiting the room. 

“Honestly, he’s so sensitive.” George mutters to his brother. 

The room is still tense. No one speaks for a few minutes, and it’s Ginny who breaks the silence. Her eyes are wide as a somewhat amused smile strikes her lips. 

“Wait, did you just say Ron’s reading?”