#this doesn’t make sense I’ve just been struggling with this SO much this week

[harmonizewithechoes]

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[andhumanslovedstories]

I’ve been struggling lately with the feeling that my job is pointless. Intellectually I know it is not—nursing is one of those professions where you get to be real smug about knowing the value of your work. But it’s still felt very pointless. Like I’ll start a shift thinking, “what am I even doing here,” and end it thinking, “what have I actually even done.” It’s been a ROUGH couple months.

But I had a really good shift last time I worked, which was good for the soul and also a very useful data point. I got to do pain management advocacy and symptom management, met a bunch of cool patients, did education for new nurses, and had several long heart to hearts, which the kind of midnight heart to hearts that I think are the most important part of night shift, all of that while being well staffed with very pleasant and appreciative patients and coworkers, and I was still like. Pretty depressed. I had a sense of satisfaction and moments of joy and meaning, but it turns out that one good shift did not cure the depression that has been latched on to me for the last few months like some kind of fucked up mental health leech. As I realized I was still depressed and that it was still interfering with my life even when everything was going well, the sense of peace washed over me was the best I’d felt in a while. Because I was like, okay! None of my usual stuff as worked! I have no excuse not to try something new to get my brain out of the shit ditch it’s slipped into.

So I’m applying for short-term disability. I’m worried I won’t get it, and I’m not sure what the next step is if I get rejected, but I feel so much better having decided to pursue it. It’s so much fuckin paperwork for sure, to a degree that’s overwhelming except that that the form could be a checkbox that says, “you want money?” and I’d be like “THIS IS TOO MUCH.” I’m totally not writing this post instead of finishing an email to my manager. I’m definitely not writing this post to avoid dealing with coordinating all my various care providers. I’m certainly not at every moment worried that I’m secretly faking all this so I can get three to nine weeks of a cool summer vacation.

I was thinking about how I almost flunked nursing school in my final semester because I turned in assignments late for a class with a “no late homework” policy. The professor said that this was reflective of real life, where if you miss deadlines you’re just fucked. I ended up appealing my grade and passing, because frankly it was a weak reason for making me repeat a final semester when there was no issues with my actual work or knowledge. During my appeal, I was like “I also think this policy is ableist. Harsh penalties for late work hurt students with health problems, especially chronic health problems when you aren’t asking for one week off due to the flu but instead for a general and never ending flexibility. I’m not trying to make an excuse but explain why this policy is a bad one. Disabled healthcare workers are an asset to healthcare.” I’m trying to remember my own argument as I pursue help. My depression and ADHD and eating disorder do help me be a better nurse, not because like depression gives you superpowers, but because I manage my chronic illnesses every day, in ways that range from hardly noticeable to life or death. Being kind to patients means being kind to myself, and vice versa.

I’m rambling. I really do not want to do this paperwork or send these emails. And I’m not sure if I deserve the leave I’m trying to take. But I miss being love with my job. I miss enjoying it. I wouldn’t judge someone else for going on medical leave, and my job doesn’t want me to burn out or quit. It almost feels like I have to be skeptical of applying for leave because no one else is. Everyone I’ve spoken to has been very supportive, including my manager. And considering how many unpaid days off I’ve had to take lately, disability leave would be an improvement over some of my recent paychecks. All in all, short-term disability makes sense and seems like a reasonable response to circumstances. But FUCK. I wish it required like 90 percent less documentation.

[nataliasquote]

Tattoos for troubled minds | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha struggles to trust anyone when it comes to touching her body. But that becomes rather difficult when a tattoo idea comes into her mind that she just can’t shake

Warnings: mentions of scars, tattoo needles, slight internalised homophobia

wc: 3.6k

note: I don’t actually have tattoos (despite wanting one so badly) so this is probably really inaccurate. I do apologise if this doesn’t make sense. also, I hate this so much but the guilt of not posting is eating me alive so I’m sorry

-⧗-

Natasha was a quiet soul. She kept to herself, usually sitting at her own table in the Shield cafeteria, eyes focused on her plate of food as she ate quickly, just wanting to get out of there. None of the other agents dared make conversation with her, too spooked by her fighting skills to approach. But that didn’t bother her. Her hyper independence made her hesitant to trust people.

Clint was the only one she spoke to outside of working hours. They weren’t exactly friends, but she tolerated him enough to flash a small smile if she saw him in the hallways or feel slightly relaxed if they were paired for missions together.

And he liked her too, especially since her first words had been a jab at his choice of weapon.

“Bow and arrow? What did you do, get your training in a forest?”

But he didn’t take offense to it. After all, he’d made the call to save her and she owed him her life. Which is how, two years later, she was sprawled on his couch, chewing on take out pizza for the second time that week with a scowl.

“I think I want a tattoo.”

Clint frowned at her, wondering where her brain cells had disappeared to. “What?”

“You know, the permanent drawing-“

“Yes I know what a tattoo is Tasha,” he rolled his eyes at her teasing smirk, already over her sarcasm. “But you know it’s a bad idea for spies to have unique markings like that.”

Natasha shrugged, tugging up her sleeve to reveal a strange shaped scar across her bicep. “I’d say I’ve got enough of those naturally. And it would be hidden on my ribs or something.”

Clint just shook his head and turned back to his food. He was used to Natasha’s odd comments and her tattoo phase probably wouldn’t last in his eyes. Just like her ‘wanting to be blonde’ phase didn’t.

But it didn’t end. A month later and Natasha had fallen down the rabbit hole that was tattoo designs on pinterest, courtesy of a fellow agent who introduced her to the app. She didn’t understand it at first, but now it was 3am and her tablet screen was still glaring bright in her face, a plethora of images scattered across her screen.

She saved a couple to a board, now set on design and placement, before placing it to one side with a grin on her face. Natasha climbed out of bed and padded over to her mirror, pulling up her shirt and smiling softly to herself. But the dim lamplight made her scars glisten and she caught herself, a sudden feeling of repulsion shuddering through her body. She looked like a freak and no tattoo artist would want to go near that. Her scars weren’t normal and she wasn’t ready for the questions yet.

Tears glazed her eyes over and her arms snaked across her stomach, her reflection in the mirror now blurry. Even as the salty tears dripped down her cheeks and soaked the collar of her shirt, she didn’t step away, too engrossed with how disgusting she felt in her body.

That stubborn hope that the redroom failed to squash out had ignited inside her once more, except this time she just wanted to laugh at it. Natasha would never be normal. She was what they’d made her into, and a tattoo was never going to change that.

Clint noticed the change in her demeanor when she sat down at breakfast. Natasha barely engaged in her usual small talk, more focused on her food in front of her.

“Did you do anymore tattoo research yesterday?” He asked, knowing that would catch her attention. But instead of the usual spark, she remained dejected, stirring her yogurt half heartedly.

“Yeah,” came her response, albeit rather forced.

“There’s probably a lot of places in DC that would kill to tattoo a shield agent.” Nat shot him a look. “Just saying!”

“Sure. But I don’t think I can anymore.”

Clint looked at her with a frown. “Why not?”

Natasha just looked down and tugged at her sleeve, suddenly feeling exposed in her tight fitting suit. The image in the mirror from last night came into her mind and she pushed her food away, no longer hoodie. And beside that, she didn’t trust people she worked with, so how would she trust a complete stranger to add something permanent on her body? Getting a tattoo would be nothing but a dream for her, she knew that, but it still crushed her.

Clint studied his best friend for a moment in thought, before he placed his hand gently on her arm. “I might know someone who can help.” Natasha looked up, now interested. Her face was still stony but Clint knew she was excited. “A friend of Laura’s, we helped her out even before you came here.”

“An agent?” Clint hadn’t mentioned anyone like that before and it confused Natasha.

But Clint shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She came to Laura and I when she was a teenager and had nowhere else to go. And you know my wife-“

“Can’t let anyone suffer,” Natasha finished for him, warmth spreading in her stomach at the thought of the soft woman she’d grown to adore. Laura really did have the biggest heart out of everyone.

“Exactly that. Y/n was fourteen, I think, parents kicked her out of the house. How she got to ours, I’ll never know, but she just appeared on the doorstep one night and Laura melted at the sight of her.” Clint’s expression softened at the memory. “But anyway, what I’m saying is that she’s a tattoo artist. She’s got trust issues just like you and I think she’ll help.”

Natasha scowled at the last part, wanting to protest his comment. But she knew he was right; her trust issues were what got her into this mess in the first place.

“But she’s a kid?”

“No, almost the same age as you,” Clint said with a laugh. “You’ll like her, but she can be a little scary.”

“Scarier than me?”

Clint smirked. “Oh, you’d be surprised. That glare of hers rivals yours.” This vague description intrigued Natasha and Clint could see the cogs turning in her mind. “She knows what we do and she’s seen my scars. Trust me, they won’t put her off.”

Natasha’s head shot up, staring at her best friend with confusion. Was she that easy to read? Or did he just know her too well?

~~~

With the news of her favourite girls coming back home, Laura had been in a frenzy of cleaning and preparing. Clint had texted to say he was only minutes away so she left the dishes to soak and headed to the porch, anxiously staring at the track beside their house as she waited.

Anyone would have thought she was married to Natasha over Clint by the difference in reactions she gave them. Sure, Clint got a kiss and a hug, but Natasha truly got the special treatment, with Laura scanning her to make sure she wasn’t injured and quizzing her about how she was. Poor Clint was left to grab their bags as the women disappeared into the farmhouse.

Tea was poured and snacks were eaten in the cosy kitchen before the doorbell rang and Laura excused herself, leaving an anxious Natasha on her own for a moment. Muffled voices could be heard but she tried to go against her instincts of listening in and instead busied herself with a loose thread on the tablecloth. She heard footsteps approaching and turned in her chair, ignoring the way her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

The woman who walked in the kitchen doorway was stunning, Natasha couldn’t deny it, and her eyes darted to the patchwork of tattoos that littered her exposed arms. Their eyes met, and Natasha swore she could see the walls up in the other woman’s mind. But it didn’t scare her off. No. It brought her a weird sense of comfort and her body started to relax.

Clad in a black cropped tank and black cargo pants, Y/n hesitated in the doorway, duffle bag slung over her shoulder hitting the wall gently. Laura appeared behind her, gentle hands falling to her shoulders.

“Y/n, this is Natasha, the one I told you about.” The y/h/c girl made no effort to move. “She’s Clint’s partner.” Clearly not much of a talker, Y/n just nodded, not hiding the fact she was scanning Natasha from head to toe. She didn’t trust strangers, but she trusted Laura and Clint who seemed to love Natasha. So maybe she wasn’t a threat.

“Hi, you can call me Nat if you want.” No one called her Nat except Laura, but it was a feeble attempt to make the atmosphere more comfortable. Another nod came but Laura smiled.

“Do you want to go set up? All of your stuff is still exactly where you left it,” Laura addressed Y/n who adjusted the grip on her bag and disappeared down the hall without a word. Natasha’s eyebrows raised at Laura who watched her go, a fond look in her eyes. “She does speak, I promise.”

Natasha shook her head, brushing her off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I can tell you care about her a lot.”

“She’s like a daughter to me, kind of like you are.” Natasha’s cheeks flushed at that. “She doesn’t have anyone except us, so I worry. She’s a real sweetheart though, she’s just been through a lot. Kind of like someone else I know.”

“I’ll be kind, don’t worry.”

Laura couldn’t help but smile as she stirred her tea. “Oh I know. She already likes you, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Natasha let out a sigh and started to play with the hem of her zip up jacket. It suddenly felt real, the whole tattoo thing. And whilst she weirdly trusted Y/n, it didn’t help ease her nerves any less.

The redhead sensed a new presence before she spotted her, standing in the doorway just like she was before.

“Ready when you are, Nat.” Her voice was slightly raspy from lack of use and she spoke quietly, almost as if she was scared she’d get into trouble. Natasha smiled softly at the sound of her nickname and squeezed Laura’s hand before she followed the y/h/c girl down the hallway of the house she considered her second home.

Clint’s office had been turned into a makeshift tattoo studio with all new equipment and furniture decorating the small space. The tattoo bed had a fresh paper layer on top and Y/n gestured for Natasha to take a seat.

“Ok, do you have an idea of what you want? And where?” Y/n sat down at a small table and picked up her pen before looking at Natasha expectantly.

“I’ve got a couple of reference pictures on my phone.” The small device was handed over and Y/n swiped between them, nodding in approval before setting it down. “The last one is just for placement ideas.”

“I’ll work up a sketch and you can tell me what needs changing.” Luckily Natasha’s design was incredibly simple and it didn’t take long for Y/n to hold up her page.

Natasha slid off the bed and slowly walked over, not wanting to startle the skittish girl. But Y/n just moved over, clearly welcoming the redhead into her space.

“I love that a lot,” Natasha praised, studying the simple lines. “But maybe it could be a bit smaller.”

“I can scale it down when I make the stencil, no problem. But is the design alright? Remember, it is permanent so I want you to be completely happy with it.”

Natasha studied it for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined it on her body. Y/n had talent, anyone could see that even from such a simple drawing, and Natasha nodded before she slid the notebook back to her.

“I love it, I really do.”

Y/n nodded, grabbing her stencil paper from a drawer by her leg. She wordlessly began making the stencil and Natasha took this as her cue to return to her seat. She peered around the room, admiring a few pictures that were on the walls. Incredibly complicated tattoos which she guessed Y/n had done.

The young girl sketching away in the corner thoroughly interested her and something inside Natasha was drawn in. She wanted to get to know her because aside from the shy and hesitant exterior she was effortlessly cool and seemed sweet. Maybe Y/n could be the start of Natasha’s project to make friends.

“If you lie back on the seat and lift your shirt, we can make sure this is exactly how you want it before I start.”

Natasha took a deep breath and slowly lifted her shirt and lowered the waistband of her sweatpants so her hip bone was exposed. She shivered despite the room being warm, fully aware that her nastiest scar was on full display on her lower stomach.

But Y/n didn’t care. Or at least she didn’t make it obvious if it bothered her. “Is it ok if I touch your hip?” She asked, looking Natasha straight in the eyes. The redhead almost melted at her words, not used to ever being asked that question.

“Of course, do what you need.” Y/n’s fingers were soft and delicate as she placed the stencil on Natasha’s skin. She didn’t touch anywhere she didn’t need to and worked quickly, making sure it was fully stuck down before stepping back to allow Natasha to step over to the mirror.

Although it wasn’t permanent, Natasha’s heart was racing as she saw the way the black ink stood out against her pale skin. The symbol was small but perfect in her eyes, and she turned back to Y/n with a grin.

“It’s perfect!”

“Then I’ll get started.”

Due to the design being so small, it took no more than fifteen minutes for Y/n to complete. Her hand was incredibly steady and Natasha’s pain tolerance was so high she barely felt it. The room was silent aside from the faint buzzing, no conversation stemming from either woman. Questions spiralled around Natasha’s head but she knew this wasn’t the place to ask them.

Completely lost in her head, Natasha failed to notice the silence or the fact that her hip bone was no longer burning. Y/n kept working, wiping away the excess ink and making sure she hadn’t missed a spot. But it was perfect, as usual, and she gently tapped Nat on the thigh to snap her out of her head.

“You’re now free to look.”

Natasha grinned and hopped off the bed, holding up her shirt again as she looked in the mirror. Tears almost sprung to her eyes as she admired the finished product, and they probably would have tumbled down her cheeks if she had been alone.

A small spider sat on the front of her hip, legs slightly bent. It looked so delicate on her skin and for the first time in her entire life, Natasha actually liked looking at herself in the mirror.

“It’s so beautiful,” she began to ramble, unable to tear her eyes away. “You’ve got real talent Y/n, I can’t thank you enough. It’s so perfect.”

Y/n blushed and couldn’t stop the smile that graced her lips, catching Natasha’s eyes in the mirror and making the redhead freeze.

Her smile.

The young woman hadn’t smiled the entire time she’d arrived, but seeing her now was like a breath of fresh air. Smiling looked so good on her and Natash couldn’t get enough.

“If you want to show Laura, you can, but you’ll need to come back so I can wrap it safely.” Natasha glanced at her new addition and nodded, but hesitated once she was by the door.

“I think you should come too. The artist and her artwork.” Natasha spoke with a smirk and Y/n couldn’t ever imagine saying no to that woman. So she nodded again, her usual response, and meekly followed her back down the hall, pulling off her gloves as she walked.

Laura was already waiting for them in the kitchen and she placed her reading glasses in her hair to get a good look at Natasha who still hadn’t dropped her shirt down. She’d never seen the Russian with such a wide grin before, her usual collected expression completely out of the window.

“It looks beautiful, Nat, truly. You did such a good job Y/n.”

“You never told me how talented she is!” Natasha stepped to the side to allow Y/n to come forward, but the humble woman stayed where she was, already hating the attention. She didn’t see her art as talent, more like a form of escapism. But it made people happy and that was all she wanted.

“I wanted you to see for yourself,” Laura replied. “And besides, she never believes me when I tell her how good she is.”

“You’re really easy to tattoo. You don’t squirm or cry like other people do, so really I should be thanking you.” Laura was taken aback by Y/n’s comment, not used to more than three words coming out of the girl’s mouth. But the more she observed her, the more she saw her change. The darkness she’d noticed since Y/n was a teenager had lifted a little and she seemed a lot less guarded, looking over at Natasha with a soft expression.

And Natasha looked back at her just the same, purely in awe of how gentle she was. As Y/n gestured for them to return to the office and offered to hold Nat’s shirt, Laura felt like squealing like a child.

Two of her favourite people in the world had found each other and, despite both being so broken and fragile, fit together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other.

Natasha was strong enough and sure of herself enough for the both of them, and Y/n treated her with such delicacy and care that it slowly broke away Natasha’s trust issues and allowed her to open up. And Natasha’s protective nature came out around the other woman, wanting to keep her safe from the world.

With a quick word about going to show Clint, Natasha disappeared into the front yard with her newly wrapped hip, leaving Y/n to find Laura again. The older woman welcomed her with a hug and pulled a chair close to her own.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Y/n kept her gaze on the crossword Laura was doing, not wanting her eyes to give her away if she looked up. “She’s nice.”

“Hey,” Laura said softly, carefully taking Y/n’s hand in her own. She didn’t miss the way she flinched but unfortunately she was used to that by now. “You’re not back there. You’re allowed to like her if that’s what you want and feel. She’s a good person, but so are you, you don’t need to be scared.”

Y/n’s eyes followed where their hands were clasped up to Laura’s face, trying to find any hints that showed she was lying. But all that came back was the soft and caring face she’d grown to love, one that didn’t lie to her and didn’t hate her for who she was.

“I don’t like her like that.” Call her a hypocrite for lying, but Y/n had her reasons. Loving a woman was still unnatural in her eyes, despite her contrasting feelings that longed for it.

“Y/n…” Laura’s ‘mom’ tone was one she was used to and she knew she was caught out. “I’m not asking you to tell me now, but you deserve happiness, as does she. And I haven’t seen either of you that relaxed in a really long time. So please don’t push her away.”

Y/n didn’t know what to think. How could she? Her whole life had centred around hating who she was, so how could anyone ever like her like that? It messed with her head and Laura could see that.

But what was Natasha if not a life saver. She came strolling into the kitchen, her tshirt now tucked up into the band of her sports bra to allow her tattoo to be on full display. Y/n smiled slightly at the sight.

Sinking down into the chair beside her, Natasha noticed the clasped hands of the women and wondered what she’d interrupted. But that wasn’t her place to ask, so she turned to Y/n.

“How can I pay you? How much do you charge?”

Y/n shook her head frantically, pulling her hand away from Laura. “Nothing, honestly. You’re a friend, it’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not. If you won’t take money, at least let me repay you another way.”

“Nat-“

“Dinner? How about you let me take you to dinner next week. You’re from the city, right?” Y/n nodded, her brows creasing. She turned to Laura for help but the older woman just smiled widely and nodded, giving her as much non verbal encouragement as she could. “Please, Y/n?”

She’d said yes before she could even process what was going on. After all, they were just friends going to dinner. People in the movies that she’d seen did it, so she could too.

What was so wrong with that?

[showtoonzfan]

Ganna rant about Episode 4 of Hazbin again. For starters it has the same issue that Seeing Stars did for Helluva boss, that being Loona giving Octavia advice in comparison to Husk giving Angel advice. While the characters situations are different, both Loona and Husk were the wrong characters to pick to give advice, or simply just comfort the other character. I’ve already seen some people say that Charlie or Vaggie should have been the one to cheer Angel up, and that would have made more sense. They’ve known him longer and it’s in character for them to do that. For it to be Husk, not only does it feel forced as an excuse to just hook Angel up with a boyfriend and get the shipping fuel going, but it doesn’t make sense narratively.

In Loona’s case, her situation was flawed because she just MET Octavia, didn’t know a thing about her struggles and spouts to her about how she should be thankful just because her dad is “trying”, and the show tries comparing both girl’s situations when they’re not the same. This is practically the same situation with Angel and Husk. While Husk is aware of Angel, he barley knows him. He hasn’t been at the hotel that long considering the pilot took place only a week ago. On screen, all that Husk knew about Angel was that he was a porn star who constantly flirts with everyone, him especially, and we as the audience only see that and only that when the two interact. However episode 4 claims that Husk can see right through him and know that this is all part of his persona that he displays. If we had more time with these two characters outside of flirty banter scenes, this would make more sense, but instead it’s all tell and no show, being rushed with the little time we’re given. Husk even says that the hotel residents go to him to rant their sorrows while they’re drunk and even THAT happens off screen and that’s the problem, the audience has no reason to believe that Husk knows Angel deep down or even cares enough to want to help him, in our eyes, all Angel’s been doing is sexually harassing him.

There’s no reason why these two need to have an emotional scene together, it’s unearned and unwarranted because we haven’t had enough time with these characters, just like Loona and Octavia, there’s just no purpose or buildup. I also resort back to what I’ve said before: Husk selling his soul to Alastor is not the same as Angel selling his soul to Valentino. The show tries to compare Angel and Husk’s situations and it’s just not comparable because Alastor isn’t a rapist who’s trapping Husk to sell his body and be used like a rag doll constantly. Had it been something like “you’re a drug abuser and I’m an alcoholic”- THEN that would have worked, but that’s not what we get, and this leads me to talking about why “Loser Baby” isn’t good.

Some people have already misinterpreted my opinion, so here’s a few things. Is the song in character for Husk? Yes. Is the song about Husk telling Angel not to act and just embrace himself? Yes. On its own, the song is fine outside of some distasteful lines. The CONTEXT, execution, and placement of the song is the issue. Episode 4’s whole purpose is to see just how much Angel suffers. He’s forced to work like a dog at the studio day in and day out, and he gets abused and SA’d by his boss and other demons constantly. He doesn’t have a say in anything and can never say no because he’s under contract. He can’t Fizz his way out of this one and just go “I quit”, he’s literally forced to work in the porn industry wether he likes it or not, and we see all of that on screen. We also explore just how much this affects him. They reveal some pretty dark stuff here, how Angel doesn’t even want his position as a famous porn star and is so desperate to be numb from the pain and suffering he endorses that he’ll get high constantly and let people drug him for nefarious reasons, it’s his escape. They dump ALL of that info onto us, only for this bullshit to come up:

So the writers slut shame him, call him a freak and an addict to laugh at because “haha he’s addicted to drugs and a slut”, even though we JUST got done with a scene that confirms HE DOES ALL OF THIS AS A TRUAMA RESPONSE. He said himself he does the drugs and is addicted to numb the pain, and his own flirting (while problematic) is shown to be an act of him hyper sexualizing himself due to what he goes through. It’s not excusable but it’s still a fact, and we’re supposed to LAUGH at him??? That’s what’s wrong with his character and what continues to be wrong, because Viv sees him as the butt of the joke. Every line of dialogue he has is always about sex and how we should laugh because he’s a slut, an it comes off as so distasteful and insensitive to not only people who have been abused/SA’d, but porn actors in general. We’re supposed to laugh when he talks about cock and sex, but the reason he’s doing it is so dark that we shouldn’t be laughing about it at all cause he’s a VICTIM, yet Viv thinks it’s funny. It’s so disgusting and makes my stomach twist. Angel is trapped being in a position he doesn’t even want to be in, yet his entire character revolves around comedic sex jokes, and once you figure out the reason behind said sex jokes, it feels so wrong.

And this is why Loser Baby doesn’t work. Aside from everything else I’ve already said, It doesn’t line up with what Angel is going through, it doesn’t line up with the rest of the episode. If you wanted Angel to have this arc about realizing he doesn’t need to stick to his persona, fine, but you should have done it in a different episode. This is why Husk comes off as telling him to just suck it up and stop whining rather than what he’s actually trying to say. It looks bad with how they executed it, it just looks like he’s telling an SA victim to get over it and stop whining and what’s worse is they compare their situations when it’s not the same. You literally have a scene of Angel telling Husk he lets people drug him, and not even a minute later Husk is calling him a loser. That’s the issue. The show doesn’t know how to read the room, build character relationships slower, is just so incredibly tone deaf and is hypocritical. We’re supposed to feel bad for Angel cause he’s sexualized to the maxes and is having trauma responses of that, but then we’re also supposed to laugh at him and his sex jokes while also finding him hot. Pick a fucking side Vivienne, the show wants to have its cake and eat it too and look where that’s gotten us. The writing is a fucking atrocious mess and yet it had so much potential if Viv actually cared enough to take Angel seriously, instead of just desperately wanting to give him a boyfriend, and a rushed arc where he magically feels better in the end.

[buckyalpine]

Work Wife

Bucky x reader 

Some angst, past crappy relationship with cheating but Bucky is a sweet baby and makes it all better. Lots and lots of fluff

“See you soon doll” Bucky pecked a kiss onto your head before making his way out to a new job he had taken up at a small bookstore. He’d taken a few months off of missions, needing a break from it all and the store that wasn’t too far from the compound was perfect. 

You smiled watching him run off, not wanting to be late. It warmed you seeing how happy he was, it had only been a couple of weeks and he was glowing. 

He clearly loved it. 

Every day he’d come back, excited to tell you about how his day went; the new book he read, how his coworker, Rosa, introduced him to a new coffee, the puppy that visited the store, the new café he went to with Rosa, how to processed an online order for the first time, how Rosa walked him through the whole thing. 

You were curled up in bed with Bucky, your head on his chest while he cuddled you close, telling you about the most recent events that took place that afternoon (which of course, included Rosa). He laughed about how the owner of the store, Dave, told them to stop flirting so much, it was going to make the other customers sick. 

“Almost followed her home today, she made these almond cookies that were so good, I wanted to bring you some but Dave finished them” 

You hummed, shaking off the tiny inkling of insecurity and jealously that had started to crawl up your spine. You were over thinking. It was nothing. Rosa was a coworker.

Bucky would never cheat. 

He loved you. 

“Come visit soon?” He whispered, before kissing your forehead and turning the lamp off so you could both fall asleep. 

“I will” You kissed his chest, biting your lip, wondering if it was a good idea. You had been meaning to visit for ages but missions and recovery had taken up your time. Now you feared actually seeing everything in person would make everything too real. 

You didn’t know if you could go through that again. 

*****

“Sounds like you have a work wife” Tony snorted, over hearing bits and pieces of Bucky’s day at the book store while you both sat at the kitchen island, eating dinner. 

“A work wife?” Bucky looked confused, having never heard the term before, he was already on the struggle bus trying to find the courage to make you his wife, what was this additional fuckery. 

“Y’know, like a close bond you have with someone at work and it almost feels like you’re married to them cause you get each other and there’s some banter and bickering in there. Like a wife”

Bucky nodded, it made sense. His relationship with Rosa was sort of like what Tony was describing and he certainly felt a deeper connection with her than just someone else he worked with. 

“Pepper says Nat is my work wife but Nat said Steve is her work husband, Cap still doesn’t understand the concept, so we’re all in a bit of an entanglement until further notice” 

Your heart started to hammer in your chest. You knew they were all just joking and you kept reminding yourself that Bucky would never, never cheat but...

That’s also what you thought in your last relationship. 

When he said they were just co-workers. 

When he literally introduced you to her as his work wife.

She was in every single one of his stories. 

His day wasn’t complete unless she was in it. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt but surely being a work wife didn’t entail sending each other nudes. 

You swallowed thickly, trying to calm yourself down before you got ahead of yourself, Bucky was different. 

*****

“So...” You fidgeted with your fingers, watching Bucky get ready for work, letting your curiosity get the best of you. “Whats-whats Rosa like?”

“She’s super sweet. We have a lot in common, its incredible. I don’t think I’ve had that type of connection in a long time. She’s caring, she listens, more patient than I am, that’s for sure” Bucky snorted to himself, embarrassed over the number of time’s he had asked her to help him go over the system they used for returns. She didn’t mind, showing him again, every single time. 

“Oh” You felt your heart sink, you didn’t know what answer you were expecting from him but his words felt like salt rubbed on a wound. You didn’t want to dump your insecurities onto him, it wasn’t fair when he hadn’t done anything wrong. He gave you a kiss good bye as always before heading out the door. 

It was getting late. Bucky was never late. You couldn't fall asleep, your stomach churning at the number of reasons he could be late but nothing brought you comfort. 

“You’re still up?” Bucky had walked in quietly, expecting you to be asleep but you were up, reading a book, still waiting for him. “Sorry baby, I got caught up with Rosa, I lost track of time. She really is like my work wife” He strode over to the closer to change out of his clothes, not seeing the tears that had welled in your eyes. 

That did it. You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat or mask the sniffles that escaped you. You tried to bite your lips shut but you couldn’t hide the tiny whimpers that slipped through.  

“Doll?” Bucky frowned when he heard your soft cries, rushing out to come by your side, his heart racing when he saw how distraught you looked. “Babygirl what’s wrong”

“It’s-it’s nothing, it has nothing to do with you” You shook your head, not wanting to go into the way you had trusted your past boyfriends so much, only to end up hurt every single time. You were practically watching history repeat itself and you hated it. 

“Babygirl, talk to me, please” Bucky pulled you into his lap, doing his best to soothe you but it didn’t seem to work. 

“W-would-would you ever-ch-cheat on m-me?” You hiccupped between sobs. 

“Never doll, I’d never do anything to hurt you baby, you’re it for me. No one else comes close to you. Where’s all this coming from sweet heart” 

You sucked in a breath, your body feeling hot, almost embarrassed to tell Bucky about your past relationship but he had to know. You told him about how your ex endlessly spoke about his coworker and how amazing she was. It started off fine. Then he started coming home late. He gave her that glorious title. Then he tripped and put his dick in her. 

“You-you said work wife, I guess it just reminded me about him” You shrugged, “I know you like working with her a lot, Its just hard because I trusted him when he said there was nothing between them” 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that baby” Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around you, peppering kisses onto your face. “I promise you it’s nothing like that with Rosa” He could tell by your face you were not convinced even though you were trying hard to believe him. You nodded against his chest, closing your eyes, hoping sleep would help you feel better. 

“I think you should me et her” Bucky smiled softly while you blinked up at him, his sweet hopefully eyes looking down at you. “Please?” 

****

You gripped Bucky’s hand tightly as he walked with you down the sidewalk, your heart racing while his was jumping with excitement. The bell jingled as he opened the door, the soft scent of books immediately evading your senses, calming you slightly. Soft music from the 40′s played in the background on an old record player. 

“Rosa!” Bucky called out, grinning when he heard the tiny footsteps rustling between the rack. 

“James! It’s your day off darling” A tiny old lady popped her head from around the bookshelf; she was wearing a soft pink cardigan, her grey hair tucked in a bun and thin gold framed glasses perched on top of her head. She was half Bucky’s height, standing on her toes to pinch on of his cheeks before looking at you with bright eyes. She was adorable. 

“Rosa, this is my girlfriend, y/n” 

“Oh! I see why you call her a doll, what a sweet heart” She didn’t hesitate to pull you down for a hug, cupping your face gently in her soft hands “He talks about you so much darling” 

“Y/n, this is my work wife, Rosa” You felt your cheeks heat up while Bucky smiled bashfully, excited you finally got to meet the people and see the place that brought him so much happiness. 

It all made sense now. 

Of course she understood him well. Of course he felt happy here. They reminded him of all the things he had missed out on. When he was with them, he felt like he had a small piece of his old self back. 

“What are you doing here Barnes” Dave snorted, shaking his head “Here to flirt with my wife again?” An older gentlemen made his way over, cane in hand, dressed handsomely, nudging his wife playfully. “I hired you to work here, not flirt with the punks that come in here” 

“We’ve been married 60 years, he still insists we’re just colleagues” She shook her head, elbowing his side while Bucky chuckled, enjoying the typical banter between the two, something he hoped he’d have with you one day. 

“When you’re on the clock you work for me” Dave shrugged, giving her a gentle kiss before sitting down and sorting a pile of books. “Shouldn’t have hired this one to work here, he’s been distracting you” 

“Can you blame me, look at how handsome he is” Rose threw him a wink before helping her husband while Bucky blushed beside you, walking you through the store. “Handsome little devil” 

“He’s a little shit” 

“They won’t let me call them Mr. or Mrs or Sir or Mam” Bucky shook his head, thinking back to the utter struggle her had the first week, getting bonked with Dave’s cane every time he slipped up. 

“Don’t age me, I’m younger than you, if anything I should be addressing you as Sir, Sergeant. You were already in your 20′s when I was born” 

“They’re so sweet” You giggled, squeaking when Bucky tugged you to the back of the store. 

“They are” Bucky hummed, wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you closer “I-I want that with you some day doll” He whispered, nervous with what he was hinting at. 

“and what’s that my handsome devil?” You stood on your toes, kissing his lips sweetly, your heart fluttering while he rested his forehead on yours. 

“Be happy with you, love you, grow old with you” 

“I want that with you James”  You could feel your eyes sting a little, snuggling into his chest, nothing would have made you happier than getting to spend the rest of your life with your soldier. 

“Propose to her already!” 

“Shut up and let the boy be” 

Bucky chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at you, giving you a few more kisses before spending the rest of the afternoon, cuddled up with you on the couch with some coffee, books, and his mind planning how he wanted to ask you to marry him. 

(and eventually he does propose to you. At that very bookstore. Dave and Rosa are 100% at the wedding. They’re more excited than anyone else that their son is getting married because Bucky is like their baby now. Your babies call them grandma and grandpa. Bucky still teasingly calls her his wife and she blushes like a little girl every single time)

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[digital-domain]

Outside

Mahito x Reader // Word Count ~6k

Synopsis: Sometimes, Mahito actually tries to make you happy. This latest attempt comes closer to the mark than any other. You missed being outside, and you feel just a little bit less trapped once you’re out beneath the night sky. For a few minutes, anyways. Before it all goes wrong. If only this stranger on the street was able to keep his mouth shut – and if only Mahito wasn’t there to hear him.

Content Warnings and Tags: Dark content. Noncon, forced relationship, kidnapped reader, extreme possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, dacryphillia, throat fucking, rough sex, discussion of drinking and depiction of drunkenness (not reader), catcalling, non-gory description of physical violence, discussion of past violence and killing, off-screen murder (also not reader but boy is it traumatizing for them). In summation: the dove is dead, do not eat it.

A/N: I - don't even know how I feel about this one. Sometimes a concept pops into your head and you just have to see it through. As always, proceed with caution <3

He wakes you up with a rough grip, shaking you until your eyes flutter open. It’s an unpleasant way to be ripped from sleep, but compared to some of the other ways he’s tried in the past weeks, it’s not so bad. His hands are on your shoulders, this time, and it’s only his hands touching you – it could be worse. Still, you feel the familiar curl of despair in your stomach, the familiar urge to turn away from the face that hovers over yours, to run away from it. But you don’t do so much as close your eyes. It’s not worth it. You know he’ll only pry them back open.

“You’re cute when you wake up.” He grins broadly, giggling at the sight of your eyes struggling to remain open. “You always look a little bit confused for a second. And your voice changes when you’re sleepy. It’s adorable.” When he leans down to kiss you, you accept it, lying still and parting your mouth to allow his tongue inside. Your eyelids feel heavy. There’s no view of the sky in this wretched sewer – you haven’t seen it since the day he dragged you down here – but you can tell that it’s still the depths of night, that you were asleep for a few hours at most. This isn’t unusual. You’ve learned that when he gets a new idea, he doesn’t like to wait.

His kiss is long, and slow. It drags the breath from your mouth until at last, after what feels like an eternity, he’s satisfied. Then, he pulls you to your feet, and holds you tight in his arms, face pressed down into your neck. “I have a surprise for you.” His voice is low, but shaking, barely containing his excitement.

You stiffen involuntarily, just enough that you’re sure he notices. You can’t help it. You think you’ve spent about three weeks here, although you can’t be entirely sure, and none of the several “surprises” he’s sprung on you in that time have been anything short of horrific.

“I’ve decided…” He pulls back, and grins into your face, still far too close for any sort of comfort, his breath falling oddly cold on your cheek. “That you deserve something extra special. You’ve been so much fun, and I want to do something nice for you. Like a reward. I thought about it for a while, and I think I came up with something good.” He tilts his head, sizing up your expression. “Ask me what it is.”

You don’t want to know. But you will, soon enough, no matter what. “What is it?”

“I’ve decided…that I’m going to let you go outside!”

Your brain churns, trying to make sense of what he’s said. “Outside?”

“Mhm! Aren’t you excited?” His smile falls as you stare blankly back at him. “You should be excited,” he says petulantly. “It’s a good surprise. Humans like a change of scenery, right? You like fresh air?”

“Yes, but”- Surely, he’s not offering you what you really want. To you, outside means freedom. And there’s nothing he wants to give you less than that.

“Oh. I get it.” He laughs, and shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting you go by yourself. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your way back!”

Right. Lost. As if you wouldn’t run as fast as you could as soon as you made it to the mouth of the sewer. In any direction, to anywhere at all. If he ever gave you the chance, you would take it in an instant.

“I’ll hold your hand and everything.” As he says this, he interlocks his fingers with yours, and squeezes. “It’ll be very romantic. You’ll like it.”

His grip on your hand will be tight – even if it wasn’t, you know how quick he is, how powerful. As long as he’s beside you, you’ll never have a hope of escape. Still, as his surprises go, this is the best one so far. It’s a very low bar, to be fair, but still…

“Let’s go,” he insists, tugging at your arm.

 “Now?”

“Of course!” He laughs again, like you've said something absolutely ridiculous. “You really are cute when you wake up. You get confused…”

You pause for a beat, trying to smooth out the consternation on your face. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Mhm. And it’s nice out! Very quiet. The streets are almost all empty...no one around to get in the way of the view.”

“The streets are empty because it’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes.”

You look down at your clothes. They’re an odd ensemble, a blue, mid-thigh pleated skirt and a large black t-shirt he brought back yesterday from who-knows-where. Only the third change of clothes he’s given you in the weeks since he found you. Certainly a step up from the tattered, indecent remains of the dress you’d had on that first night, and even from the other ensembles he’s collected in the intervening time – but still not anything you’d choose to wear in public. It’s a small detail to get hung up on, but you’ve found yourself latching onto small details quite often in the past few weeks. If you think about the big picture for too long, you start to feel like your brain is going to break.

“You should be excited,” he says stubbornly. “But if you really don’t want to… I can find something else for us to do. I’ve got other ideas!”

There’s nothing threatening about the way he says it. It’s matter of fact, almost genial. But that doesn’t matter. You know that you don’t want to experience any of his backup plans – your imagination is already going into overdrive, picturing what he might have in store if you refuse his offer. “No. I…I want to go outside.” You realize, as you say it, that it’s true, and not only because your fear the alternatives. Still, your voice comes out small, and it shrinks even more as you force out your final sentence. “Thank you.”

“Aw. You’re very welcome.” He kisses you on the forehead, and starts leading you away. As you follow, slightly behind him, you rediscover another one of those small details you latch onto when everything is too much: the sewer itself is oddly warm, but the floor is always cold on your bare feet. It doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, such minute observations are comforting distractions, but right now, this particular one is only adding to your unease.

After a few begrudging steps, you manage to spit out: “I need shoes.”

“Oh…of course! You should have said something before.” He releases your hand and darts away, faster than humanly possible, returning to your side moments later with a pair of black high heels you recognize as your own. “You were wearing these with your dress the night I found you, remember? I decided to keep them.”

Of course you remember. You’d kicked them off inside your apartment, minutes before he’d shown up. Had he really stopped to pick them up when he’d carried you away? The details of that night are…well. Most of them are hazy. A few are painfully clear.

“I kept the dress, too,” he sighs, as he places the shoes in front of you. “It’s too bad you can’t wear it anymore. I still have it, just in case you change your mind.”

You step into the heels, and reluctantly take his hand, wobbling slightly as you follow him through the tunnel. “I was wearing it for days,” you say timidly. “It smells.”

“It smells like you.” In the periphery of your vision, you can see his head turn in your direction. You keep your eyes glued to the floor. “The longer you wore it, the more like you it smelled. It got stronger.” His nails scratch at the back of your hand, long and harsh against your dry skin. “I guess human scents linger for a while, because it still smells like you.”

You stay quiet, as you usually do. How are you supposed to respond to something like that? There was a time when you thought he said things like this to upset you. Now, though, you think he’s just frightfully honest. He doesn’t say things to provoke you – he says things because they appear in his head, and he has no qualms about letting you hear them. Does he know that they make you uncomfortable? He must – but clearly, he doesn’t mind.

For several minutes, you walk through twisted passages. Although you can still feel his eyes lapping at your face, at your body, at the hem of your skirt, he’s silent for once, giving you the gift of uninterrupted time in your own head. You wonder how long it’ll be before he feels inclined to get you a new bundle of clothes. A set of underwear, at least, would be nice. Maybe if you ask, he’ll do it. He does seem to like providing for you, even to take pride in it, although he certainly doesn’t know how to do it properly. When he presented your most recent outfit to you, he stared at you like he was expecting something more than numb acceptance. Like he was expecting you to jump for joy, or to thank him for giving you the dignity of wearing clothes that didn’t stink. These little moments – where he seems to truly believe he's being kind to you - have been happening frequently in the past week or so, and you’re not sure how you feel about it. On the one hand, it probably means that he’s getting even more attached to you. That doesn’t bode well for your future. Then again, your future was more or less wiped away the moment he discovered your existence. You might as well appreciate the little comforts you’re provided.

“Do you feel the air yet?” He smiles, much more gently than you’re accustomed to – inviting, rather than forcing you, to smile in return. “It’s changing.”

As soon as he points it out, you feel it. It’s the light at the end of the tunnel – a stir in the dense, cloying air that gives you a faint sense of comfort. As you move forward, that light becomes physical – he leads you up a ladder, briefly letting go of your hand to allow you to climb. You scrabble up towards the light, almost losing your shoes in the process. As you poke your head over the street line, you can’t help but feel free, just for a moment. When you look up, you can see the stars above you. There aren’t as many as you’d like – the city lights render all but the brightest invisible – but it’s something. Despite everything, you’re grateful for it.

“You like it! I can tell…I knew you would.” He smiles broadly, and grasps your wrist, pulling you onto the street above the sewer. The assistance is unnecessary – but under the circumstances, you don’t mind. You don’t flinch, as you usually do at his touch. He grabs your hand, and you walk along the street together in strange silence. He’s watching you intently, as always, but he’s not talking, and that’s enough. If you didn’t look, you could almost pretend that you were alone, staring out at the open city streets and up at the sky above. What time is it, exactly? 3? 4? One of those times where no one is awake except for you. When you were alone in your home - your real home - you used to cherish being awake at such times, cherish the strange, powerful sense of isolation. Even now, stumbling along the sidewalk with this demon at your side, you can’t help but cherish it again. At least you’re outside. At least you have the stars to keep you company, and not just him.

“Thank you.” When you say it this time, you mean it, although it’s not really directed at him. He’s barely there, in your mind. You’re thanking the night air, and the sky, and the empty, open streets for the strange comfort they provide. Only now do you realize how claustrophobic you’ve been for all this time. The dim light of the sewer, the imposing walls trapping you inside – those little oppressive details have been adding to your misery. Now that they’re gone…you still hate everything about your situation, but it’s easier for you to ignore it. Easier for you to pretend, for a moment, that everything is going to be okay.

“I knew you’d like it,” he repeats. You’re sure his eyes are glowing, that he’s got some version of his crazed smile splattered across his face, but you don’t have to look. There are so many better things to look at right now.

Just as you have this thought, a shadow emerges from the intersection in front of you, perhaps twenty paces away. Under the streetlights, the shadow takes the form of a man. He’s tall, maybe twenty years older than you, dressed simply in jeans and a grey t-shirt. And, as he gets closer, you see that he’s stumbling. He pauses to lean against a battered storefront, right beside the mouth of a shadowy alley. He’s swaying slightly, and you think you see his mouth moving, as if he’s muttering something under his breath.

“I’ve seen ones like him before!” Mahito’s hand tightens over yours, voice full of excitement, as he pulls you to a halt. “It’s almost always at night…and their breath always smells the same way.” His free hand comes out of nowhere to turn your face toward him. His eyes fix intently on yours, and his finger strokes gently over your mouth. “Your breath smelled a little like that, the night I found you, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as theirs. And you weren’t walking so strangely, either.”

You don’t ask why he was close enough to smell their breath. You already know. The horrors you’ve witnessed in the past weeks have been enough to bring you to tears – both out of pity for the bodies beneath him, and fear for your own.

“The things you humans do to yourselves…” He tugs your forward by your hand, and kisses you on the forehead, his fingers slipping into your hair. Even when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go. “You’re lucky you’re done with all that now. You can’t do anything to yourself…and no other humans can do anything to you, either. The only one who can do anything is me!”

Desperate to shake his gaze away, you cast your eyes upwards, but the expanse of the sky does nothing to dispel the claustrophobic dread churning in your stomach. Perhaps it was never about the sewer itself, after all.

He releases your hair and grips your hand tightly. “You can keep walking now. I want to get a closer look.”

You walk slightly behind him this time, your other hand clenched at your side. Usually, you’d worry about how strange you might look to passersby, holding onto what seems to be empty air, stumbling awkwardly as if pulled by some invisible force. But you doubt that the man before you will notice. You can see Mahito’s neck crane as the pair of you approach. As you draw even with the man you think he’s about to let go of your hand, and run up close for a better view.

But before that can happen, the man grins at you, his burnt-out eyes suddenly finding their focus. He doesn’t meet your gaze. In fact, he seems to look everywhere but your face, in the space of a few seconds. His mouth falls open. And the inevitable words tumble from his mouth, their edges blurred. “Hey…sweetheart. Whatcha doin all alone?”

Your stomach churns. If you were truly alone, at this time of night, this would be more than enough to set off every alarm in your head, to send you rushing down the street. But right now – right now, the fingernails tightening against the back of your hand are screaming for all of your attention.

“I didn’t like that.” You turn, giving into the sudden sense of dread that commands you to look. Mahito has never sounded like this before. He’s never looked like this either. There’s no hint of a smile, no glow in his eyes. “I didn’t like that.” You quickly realize what’s wrong with the picture: he’s serious. Not the inquisitive kind of serious – the deathly kind. He’s squeezing your hand tight enough to leave crescent moons in your skin. His eyes latch onto yours, clinging so tightly that you can’t bear to look away. You gasp as, in two places, the skin on the back of your hand gives way, sliced open by his viselike grip. To your surprise, he lets go at the sound of your voice. He holds his hand up to the side of your face, only glancing at the smudge of blood on his nails before capturing your gaze once more. “You’re…you’re not his sweetheart. You’re mine. He doesn’t get to say that. He can’t…” In the periphery of your vision, his hand is shaking.

You stumble as he turns you aside, nearly crashing onto the sidewalk beneath your feet, scrabbling for purchase on his arm. For once, he doesn’t try to catch you – he barely seems aware of your grasp on him at all. The man against the wall is staring blearily, deeply confused, no doubt, by the nothing that appears to be tossing you around.

Mahito’s hand finds the back of your shirt and drags you across the sidewalk, practically hurling you deep into the mouth of the alley beside the storefront. He disappears for a moment – not nearly long enough for you to process your new surroundings, never mind attempt to escape them. In the split-second it takes for your eyes to adjust to the looming walls on either side of you, the dustbins gathered in shadowed clumps along the alleyway, and the crumbled brick inexplicably lying at the edges, your view is interrupted by a flash of movement, unintelligible, faster even than the one that carried you here, followed by the sharp thud of a body on pavement And beneath that, a sickening sort of crack. You think you heard a similar sound or two in the moment before this violent flurry, but you're too frightened to process it entirely. Mahito stands before you, facing the dark, indistinct end of the passageway. Several yards in front of him lies a huddled mass, flung across the alley and into the pavement beneath with a force magnitudes greater than the one that carried you into these shadows. It whimpers in pain, face down, seemingly unable to move.

Your mouth falls open – but even if you could speak, what would you say? Would you tell him to stop? From the half of his face that you can see, you know this would be a futile effort.

When he hears the rasp of your breath, Mahito turns, slowly. One of his hands is in a fist at his side, the other still raised in the aftermath of a brutal throw. This hand slowly falls.

You’ve seen him kill before. Three times, in real life, and several times in the nightmares that have haunted you nearly every night since. What disturbed you most was the way he reveled in it, the grin that spread wider across his face with every movement, with every pitiful sound that echoed into the night, with every deafening spatter of indistinct human mass that forced you to your knees in terror. And his laughter – that was the most hideous sound of all. That’s the one you always hear in your dreams, the one that still echoes in your ears when you wake up.

But somehow, seeing him without that smile, standing in complete silence, is a thousand times more terrifying. You blink rapidly, trying to fend off the wave of tears you can feel building behind your eyes.

He takes a step towards you. Another. One more. It’s a narrow alley – three steps is all it takes to pin you against the brick wall that stretches up to the sky behind you. His hand rises to stroke along the side of your face, to brush over your trembling lips. “You shouldn’t be crying.” He’s far too calm, the pitch of his voice lower than what you’ve grown to expect. “You can’t cry. Not for him.” Here, his voices quivers, enough to remind you that under this strangely cold exterior, he’s just as volatile as ever.

To your horror, a stray tear escapes from between your lashes. As soon as he sees it, he swipes it away, the ragged edge of his nail dragging threateningly along your cheek. “Don’t.”

You would choke out an apology, if you thought you could speak without releasing the rest of the flood. Instead, you find yourself staring silently, helplessly, as his hand closes around your throat. “You’re the most pretty when you cry,” he sighs, soft voice contrasting horribly with the roughness of his grip. His face falls into your hair, and he inhales deeply, fingers tightening against the sides of your neck. “And you’re mine. When you’re this pretty – it has to be for me. Not for anyone else.”

How lovely it would be to look up and see the stars just one more time. To pretend that you were alone for one more moment. You’re suffocating, in all senses of the word, the combination of a lack of oxygen and pure terror sending a violent, vision-blurring rush to your head. The kind of rush that makes you feel like your mind is being violently expelled through the top of your skull, forced to watch helplessly as it floats over the hollow body it’s left behind.

He kisses you slowly, almost tenderly, staring desperately into your deadened eyes all the while. Starving for some response, even as he drains the air from your lungs. When it ends what seems like eons later, he at last drops his hand, and the pressure on your neck disappears. You gulp at the night air, eyelids flickering with the exhaustion and relief of your sudden release. You tilt your head back for another mighty inhale, but it’s cut short by cold hands sliding down your neck, onto your shoulders, guiding you gently but firmly to the ground.

For a moment, the only thing you let yourself process is the rough scrape of pavement on your knees. It’s not smooth. It’s not comfortable. But you can make it slightly better, because there’s a bit of rubble beneath your left knee, or perhaps a small stone - with all too much effort, you manage to shift the weight of your body, to move your hand and swipe the pebble away. The motion leaves you staring at the ground, eyes sweeping desperately for some other small bit of something to latch onto. You don’t want to look up, because you’re all too aware of what lies between you and the sky. It’s been watching you adjust your posture. Watching you make your futile attempts to stave it off.

Mahito slides two fingers just beneath the line of your jaw, and digs in until you have no choice but to raise your face. “You’re doing better. You’re doing good…I didn’t see any more tears. And when they do come back…they’ll be all for me. Soon. I'll know...I'll know that they're mine.”

You think you hear a sound from back in the alley, where his victim still lies alive, and motionless. But when you turn instinctively, he catches you, pressing his thumb firmly into the skin over your molars and scrapping you hard with nails beneath your jaw. “Don’t!” He practically yelps, and the high-pitched sound yanks your eyes all the way up to his face. “He – he wanted to take you.”

You took me. The thought comes to your mind, unbidden, not for the first time. It will never leave your mouth.

His eyes are wild, and his chest heaves, his face an overflowing blend of overwrought emotion, anger and confusion and urgency. “You’re mine. Mine.” He shoves his fingers into your hair, and grips hard, nails scratching mindlessly at your scalp. “No one else can have you. Ever.”

From your mouth comes a terrified whimper, not unlike the sound you heard from the shadows moments before. You follow it with words, and they come out nearly inaudible, caked in the phlegm of tears soon to come. “I want to go back.”

“We can’t.” For a tense, still-aired moment, his eyes fall closed. Without their vengeful glow, he looks more dejected than anything else. He takes a slow breath. You’ve never known whether he needed to breathe, or whether he did it for some sort of effect, but in the moment, it’s serving him, somehow. The hand loose at his side closes into a fist as he exhales, and when his eyes snap open, they’re brighter than ever. The confusion is gone, and the anger has retreated to the background – only a hauntingly familiar hunger remains. “We can’t go back. I'm not done yet.” His voice steadies, and he stares mercilessly, ravenously, into your captive gaze. “I need to - make it better. Make it right."

He yanks you forward. The tension on your scalp becomes painful as you fall gracelessly into his thigh, but he rights you, pulling you into his crotch and holding you steady. The fist at his side unclenches, and falls heavily, almost clumsily onto the back of your head, pressing you firmly into the outline of his cock.

He’s already hard. You’re hit with a nauseating wave of revulsion as you feel the stiffness beneath the cloth against your face, as he drags your lips over the length of his shaft. He holds you there, drawing out the moment, as if daring you to pull away. When you look up, there’s the ghost of a familiar smile on his face – enough to send your gaze plummeting down. His hands drop from your hair, and stretch, in their distorted, unnatural fashion, all the down way to your wrists, dragging them up his thighs before placing them on the waistband of his trousers.

There’s a moment where you do nothing, holding your hands utterly still, inches from his cock. As if your inaction might be enough for him to change his mind. He’s used these moments to toy with you before, letting you draw out your resistance, enjoying the anticipation, enjoying the anger and despair in your eyes. But he has no patience tonight. His hands fold over yours, pressing them down into his waistband, and a third arm juts out from his stomach, rending through the cloth of his shirt to grasp your face, squeezing your cheeks and prodding harshly at your jaw until your mouth is forced open.

His cock springs free, and you let out a choked sob. He’s experimented with many shapes and sizes, and tonight, it’s clearly designed to make you struggle. His third hand retracts back from whence it came, leaving nothing between you and your fate.

Both remaining hands depart from your wrists and land firmly on the back of your head. He tugs you forward, forcing the tip of his cock into your still-open mouth.

You make the mistake of allowing your eyes to flick upwards. And, for the first time since that fateful moment minutes ago, you see his grin spread over his face. “All mine,” he sighs, hands relaxing where they rest upon your scalp. “All mine.” He presses forward slowly, but firmly, easing himself into your mouth, savoring each scrape against your tongue, each time you’re forced to breathe through your nose. He doesn’t stop at the limit of your comfort – he never does. He presses past the edge of your throat, lodging himself inside you, until he’s nearly cut off your breath for the second time tonight. Your eyelids feel heavy, and your eyes themselves water uncontrollably, threatening to spill over at any moment.

Just when you think he’s too much for you to take, he pulls back. But he lets you enjoy your freedom for just a moment before thrusting deep into your throat, pressing his palms so roughly against your head that you know you have no chance of escape. You sputter uncontrollably, and narrow trails of drool escape from the sides of your mouth. Your entire body shudders, gasping for breath, for a break, for a way out. But your suffering, as usual, does nothing to slow him down. If anything, it spurs him on. He thrusts into you again, and again, gradually working himself up, speed increasing with every indecent noise that manages to escape from around his cock. Your survival instincts take over, and you desperately try to pull away, desperate for a single deep, clean breath; he pushes you down, his hands a hundred times stronger than the force your body can muster.

“So pretty.” He sighs – not with pleasure, but with relief. Like doing this to you has finally set his mind at ease. “You can cry now.”

You couldn't stop yourself if you wanted to - tears drip down your cheek as he pulls you in close. So close that you choke disgustingly loudly – so close that even if you dared to look up, you wouldn’t get a clear picture of his face. So close that you feel the bile churning in your stomach, threatening to give way. For several seconds, he keeps you here, staring down at you, crushing your every attempt to struggle.

There’s another whimper from the recesses of the alley – louder, this time - but your empathy seems to have disappeared. You only wish you had enough freedom of body and mind to make such a sound.

He thrusts once more, revels in the way you gag and balk at his size. When he frees you, several seconds later, yanking you back by the base of your hair, you feel no relief. You barely have time to take that one deep breath you’ve been craving before a sharp shove to your shoulders sends you crashing onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs. He drops to the ground and crawls on top of you, pinning you to the ground as his swelling cock drags up your thigh.

”You’re too pretty for humans…and feel too good...” The tip of his cock presses hard at the lips of your cunt, and you use the strength you have to squirm away – until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. “They don’t deserve to have you.” He drags you towards him, and you don’t resist, if only because you don’t want to know how it feels to have your skull slam against solid brick. Your lips, recently sealed shut, part once again as his cock forces you open. For as long as you can, you keep quiet, trying to deny him the satisfaction of hearing the reaction he can already see. But you can only hold out for so long. In real time – the earthly time separate from the years that pass in your mind – it’s barely seconds. He’s molded himself to stretch you open, to stretch you beyond your limits. And he knows those limits well enough not to fail.

His entire body seems to shudder with anticipation. "Come on. I know you can sound pretty, too. Don't hold it back."

You obey, a fresh thrust of his cock forcing a sob from your mouth. His growing smile warps into a full, overbearing grin, a grin that you don’t dare shut out by closing your eyes.

He fucks into you recklessly, sloppily, again and again, and his hand falls upon your neck once more, threatening to tighten to the point of no return. “See? It’s – it’s so nice when you cry for me.” He squeezes – whether it’s intentional or a sign of his failing control, you truly don’t know. “Isn’t it? Isn’t it nice?”

“Yes.” It’s a rasp, hissing out between sobs, and it’s the most painful lie you’ve ever told – but between his hand at your throat and his cock buried deep inside you, what choice do you have? Your mind floats fuzzily above your head once more, abandoning your body to hang on for dear life.

“Good.” He exhales blissfully, innocently, his pure, all-consuming pleasure at odds with the cries of pain and despair you hear emanate from your mouth. “I knew it…still like to hear you say it…”

He’s babbling – and, you realize, with a fresh wave of despair, so are you. “I can’t…please…”

“Soon.” His hand inexplicably releases your throat, and furls into the shadows, arm extending far longer than it should, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his fingers, even if you dared to look away from his face to watch them. “Almost…”

When you finally allow your eyes to close, he doesn’t notice – his head is already thrown back, and somewhere in the alley, yards away, his fist tightens. Hard.

The bile rises in your stomach all over again. For just a moment, you’re lucid enough to realize what he’s doing. And you can’t stop him.

He falls over you and gasps heavily in your ear. His cock pulses, and your eyes snap open against your will, mouth parting instinctually as you feel the all-too familiar shock of his release.

It aligns cleanly with a sickening splatter, exactly where his hand fell into the shadows.

“There.” He buries his face in your neck, and his arm retracts back into view. His hand, oddly slick, brushes up your forehead and through your hair. “All done. All better.” He doesn’t seem to notice the dry heaving of your breath, the uncontrollable shaking of your arms and legs. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he’s enjoying it. Perhaps he thinks it’s a good thing. “A happy ending…you humans love those, don’t you?”

You’re beyond words. Lacking the strength to speak, the will to move. The only thing that’s working is your mind, and you wish it wasn’t. You wish it would abandon you again, instead of shoving its way back into your head. You don’t dare look back into the depths of the alley, but you know what you’d see if you did. Something transfigured, ruined, mangled – dead. It’s not your fault. It’s Mahito. All him, all him, all this suffering at his hands…and yet, you’re the only one who’s falling apart. Of the three who came into this alley, he’s the only one who hasn’t been destroyed.

“Don’t worry.” He raises his face, smiling gently into the ravages of your expression, carefully wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re never gonna do this again. We’ll never hear anyone talk like that again." He laughs - laughs. "Not him...but not anyone else, either. I’ll keep you…I’ll keep you away from it all. Keep you all to myself.”

Your back is still pressed to the ground, skull resting uncomfortably upon the hard surface below you. There are still stars in the sky – just a few bright ones, strong enough to penetrate the city lights around you, but they blur before your eyes. Far away, they fade into nothing, pinpricks compared to the blinding glow of the manic gaze bearing down upon you.

Mahito rolls you onto your side, and you stare numbly into the street as he wraps his arms tightly around your waist. Your arm is trapped beneath you, pressing harshly into the asphalt, but it doesn’t matter. You barely notice at all. All you can feel is him. All you can hear is his breath, unsettlingly even and quiet, and his occasional hums and sighs in your ear.  

You know this won’t last long. That once he decides he’s done, you’ll be dragged back to his home, perhaps never to emerge. It’s horrifying, but you’re too numb to feel that horror just yet. You can’t bring yourself to mourn for the outside, the world you’re about to be torn away from. Not yet. Not now. And perhaps not ever. Perhaps it’s best if you never see the stars again. Best for Mahito, best for you – and best for anyone who stumbles into your path.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 42

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

TW : Violence

Masterlist

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 Tuesday, February 2nd; 06:00 AM -  Lucy’s Room 

I jump slightly when the alarm goes off in the room. I blink, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Once I do, I sink back into my pillow, muttering softly. It’s already morning. I have absolutely no desire to leave my bed.

“Ona, wake up,”  Lucy orders me as soon as she turns off her alarm.

I sigh, not moving an inch.  Lucy has decided to take control of my nights again. Our relationship hasn’t progressed, but now she forces me to come straight to her room after dinner, for the past week. This means I go to bed an hour earlier, without even being able to text Mapi. What  Lucy hasn’t realized yet is that this doesn’t affect my exhaustion at all. It’s still there since I still struggle to fall asleep and wake up during the night. Lucy, on the other hand, must think the problem is solved. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t keep doing this. Knowing her, she would have found another solution. Today, though, waking up is particularly hard. On other days, I managed to get some sleep, but that wasn’t the case last night. I really don’t want to get out of bed. I have no motivation left.

“Ona,” she growls.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up,” I reply sharply. “Just give me two minutes…”

“You said that yesterday and didn’t do it. So get up, now.”

I sigh and kick the blanket off with my feet. Once I’m up, I give Lucy a mocking bow, accompanied by a fake smile before locking myself in the bathroom. I don’t miss the opportunity to slam the door loudly to show my displeasure. It’s childish of me, but I’m fed up. All my troubles have worsened in just a few days, including my relationship with  Lucy. I had forgotten how resourceful she could be. She figured out that the only way to get even a bit of my attention is to become the commander I despise. She gives me orders and threatens me at the slightest protest. The worst part is, I still can’t get her out of my head because of it. She continues to take care of me. It’s as if she’s trying to make up for her mistake. Even though I try not to show it, the fact that she’s looking after me affects me deeply because I already miss her so much. Alexia is right when she says I’m slowly destroying myself with my methods. She’s going crazy because she sees me falling apart without giving her a chance to help me get better. She’s started insulting Lucy because, in her opinion, she’s not reacting when she could. It’s funny to hear her talk like that when she’s always respected  Lucy so much. It seems that Mapi is also going crazy. Since I no longer have the chance to reply to her, she’s driving Alexia mad to get news about me. Of course, Alexia keeps her informed of every detail since she’s closely following our situation. The only thing I can still hold on to are my friends. I’m so glad I’ve opened up to them. Alessia continued with evening classes after ours. I really need them, even though I doubt they’re as effective as Lucy’s lessons, but there’s no way I’m giving her that satisfaction. Spending more time with her wouldn’t help me.

“Ona, hurry up! I need to use the bathroom too, remember?”  Lucy scolds from behind the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble.

I make sure I’ve hidden the signs of my sleepless night and fix my hair before coming out.  Lucy takes my place, and I move toward my bed. I stop when I see it’s already made, which surprises me. Since we stopped talking and I’ve been refusing to sleep with her, she hasn’t touched it once. I must have been staring at it for a while because  Lucy snaps me out of my trance.

“Let’s go.”

Without a word, I grab my bag and jacket before heading out. She closes the door behind me, and we walk down the stairs in silence. Usually, I would go straight to the cafeteria. However, since she changed my nighttime routine, she now makes me accompany her to the back of my dorm, where she waits for Ingrid every morning since I’ve been sleeping in her room. According to her, it’s to make my presence near their dorm less suspicious. I think it’s just an excuse to spend a few more minutes with me. I didn’t argue, as it would have led to another fight for sure.

“Have a good day,” she wishes me.

“Thanks, you too.”

I force myself to keep a cold, unwavering demeanor so I don’t lose my composure. I wish I could tell her that none of my days have been good since we became distant, but I don’t. I mustn’t. As I leave, I give her a final small wave, which I immediately regret, realizing how friendly it seems. Finally, I head to the entrance of our dorm where Alexia is the first to come out. She’s gotten used to hurrying so no one discovers what’s going on. We’ve been quite discreet, surprisingly. I prefer that no one knows, even though I’ve gotten closer to some people. Our friends come out one by one, barely giving us time to ask each other how we’re doing. Once everyone is there, we walk to the cafeteria. I smile when Alba walks up to me and gives me a playful shoulder nudge. She’s one of the people I’ve gotten closer to. She cares a lot about me and has become almost as protective of me as she is of her sister. I find it really sweet of her. Judging by her expression, I must look terrible or something. I mean, I’ve lost all my joy of life.

“How are you today?” she asks me.

“The same as usual.”

“You started your exams this week, right?”

“Yeah. Yesterday,” I sigh. “And I’m failing all of them. I didn’t understand any of my classes.”

“It’s because you don’t focus enough when we study,” Alessia, who was nearby, comments. “But if it helps, the exams were really tough.”

“It doesn’t help, actually. And I’ve already told you, it’s not my fault if I can’t focus on this crap.”

“Why did you choose management anyway?” Alba laughs.

“It’s better not to know,” Ale interjects.

No, indeed, it’s better not to know. I’m liking my field less and less. I get no enjoyment out of it, and I’m losing sight of my initial goals without Lucy. Even though Alessia is helping me, I’m still lost in the important subjects. The only thing I can confirm is that there’s no connection between literary letters and mathematical letters. Lucy tried to push her lessons on me again last week, but that’s the one thing I managed to refuse. Alexia encouraged me to accept, but that’s out of the question. Doing it with Alessia allowed me to spend more time with her outside of class. I definitely don’t regret apologizing to her last week. Our relationship has taken another leap forward because of it. I’ve never known a girl as open-minded and wise as her. Even after everything I’ve done to her, she continues to act like nothing happened. I also discovered her well-hidden sense of humor, which allows us to have a lot of discussions and even playful jokes from time to time. I don’t regret having her in my class. Not to mention Lotte and Leah. Although Lotte is the one I’m least close to, I’ve been able to open up to her because we rotate seats to sit with everyone. Lotte seems to be uncomfortable around me, as if she’s afraid to say something. If she’s waiting for me to break the ice, she can keep waiting. My lively conversation with Alba and Alessia made me forget to be aware of my surroundings. That’s not a luxury I can afford these days. As a result, I didn’t see the clearly intentional shoulder bump from a young student I recognize as a friend of Korbin’s. It’s the first time I’ve been attacked while surrounded by my friends. Alba doesn’t miss it and doesn’t hesitate to hit her back from behind. The girls guys glare at each other with dark looks.

“Got a problem?” the girl spits.

“What about you?”

“Let it go, it’s fine,” I murmur, holding Alba back by the arm.

If I don’t, she might do something reckless that would have repercussions later. Plus, it’s not the time to make a scene here, in front of everyone. The young woman gives me a nasty smile, as if this situation won’t end without consequences, just as I thought. I still don’t understand why Korbin and her friends are bullying me so much, but I’ll need to figure it out soon to stop them. It’s no longer just taunts in class; it’s starting to go much further. If it were up to me, I would have already dealt with her, but there’s a lot at stake, and violence certainly isn’t the best defense. I’m the best person to know that.

“Come on, let’s go,” I say, pulling Alba with me.

“They won’t get away with this, those bitches!” she swears angrily once inside.

“You really should tell someone,” Ale adds from my other side.

“You know that would only make things worse.”

“Maybe, but it won’t get better if you don’t do something!”

“Mind your own business, please.”

I love Alexia, but lately, she’s been meddling in my problems a bit too much. I hate it when people do that. I ignore her grumbling complaints and follow her sister in the line. At least she doesn’t insist when I say no. I fully intend to deal with this issue myself, even though I still don’t know how I’m going to do it. All I’ve concluded is that Korbin has noticed the coldness between Lucy and me and is taking advantage of it to make my life hell at every opportunity. Is it related? I couldn’t say.

- “They’ve been bothering you for more than a week, seriously! How do you stay so calm and not react?!” Alexia hisses harshly at me.

- “Alexia, leave her alone,” her sister reprimands her.

I’m far from calm. I just don’t show it openly to avoid making things worse. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask  Lucy for help anymore. So, it’s up to me to handle this on my own. I roll my eyes as Korbin and Emma, her little lapdog, giggle while passing by our table. I’m determined to find out what she has against me that makes her and her friends use me as a punching bag. They regularly switch between physical attacks, like earlier, and even psychological ones. I’ve lost count of the homophobic remarks they’ve thrown at me or the little shoves against the wall in the hallways. It’s as if they’re constantly trying to put me down. The worst part is when I’m alone. They take advantage of my defenselessness to attack. Because of that, I make sure to stay mostly in the company of others. Just thinking about it gives me chills. If Alexia knew about this, she’d definitely pressure me even more to speak up, but I’m stuck. There’s no way I’m going to do that. I’m already shaken enough. I don’t need  Lucy or anyone else getting involved. I eat my Nutella toast without much enthusiasm. My appetite hasn’t returned, not even for breakfast. If Mapi were here, she would’ve already made a comment. As usual, we linger in the cafeteria for a long time. It’s the only time we’re sure to all be together, so we always spend more time than planned. However, today is different for me. I decide to leave earlier than the others to use the bathroom before going to class. I’m taking a risk by being alone, but I need a moment to breathe. In my rush, I realize halfway there that I’ve forgotten my bag. This is the first time it’s happened to me, how stupid of me. My mind is definitely elsewhere today. I hope someone will think to bring it to me, otherwise, I’ll have to go back and get it. After I finish in the bathroom, I wash my hands before heading out. I sigh when I come face-to-face with my two current enemies. It’s actually surprising I haven’t run into them earlier.

- “What do you want from me, idiots?”

- “Don’t get all high and mighty, you filthy lesbian.”

I roll my eyes and make sure to bump their shoulders, just like they always do, as I pass between them. I don’t really feel like getting into their games today, but that doesn’t stop me from physically shoving back.

- “So, what? Did you screw your roommate too much last night to fight back today?”

I don’t have time to respond before I’m violently shoved against the wall. I groan as I slide down to the floor from the impact. Damn it. Haven’t they had enough of tormenting me? If their goal is to provoke me, they’re going to succeed because I won’t hold back forever.

- “Are you going to answer, you worthless piece of crap?”

- “You’re the ones who are going to answer my questions.”

I lift my head, relieved to no longer be alone. Who knows what they might have done this time. They’ve never physically hit me before, but they’re certainly capable if I were to respond to their provocations. Lucy pins my two troublemakers by placing her hands on their shoulders while keeping her eyes on me. I turn my head away to avoid her gaze. I know her well enough to know she can read me just by looking, and I don’t want that. Korbin and Emma stay silent in the face of the question hanging in the air.

- “Well? Are either of you going to explain what’s going on?! And you’re all late, too,” she retorts sharply.

Now that she mentions it, I did hear the Alba. I could have done without it. I haven’t been late in a long time.

- “I- um…” Emma stammers.

- “Ona insulted us. We just wanted to make sure she doesn’t do it again,” Korbin finally responds, leaving me completely stunned.

- “I’m sure there are worse insults than ‘idiot,’” my supervisor replies coldly. “And if she said it, there’s probably a good reason.”

I bite my lip to keep from smiling. Maybe luck is still on my side a little bit. If she’s saying that, it means she’s been following our altercation from the start. The girls in front of me turn pale at her response.  Lucy removes her hands and offers me one. I take it hesitantly. I don’t even need to support myself against the wall; she lifts me up with ease.

- “Here, you forgot this in the cafeteria.”

I’m surprised to see her with my bag. I thought someone from my class would have taken it. I frown, realizing it’s impossible she found it herself. She left the cafeteria well before I did since she goes for a run after breakfast. She must have sensed my confusion because she explains without me asking.

- “Alexia ran into me on her way to class and asked me to bring it to you since she didn’t have enough time herself.”

- “Thanks…” I murmur, sliding the bag onto my shoulders.

- “Alright,” she says, patting the two girls on the shoulders. “You two are staying with me today.”

- “What?! Why?” Korbin exclaims.

- “Keep playing innocent, and I’ll take you straight to the principal’s office so you can explain your unjustified homophobic comments towards Ona.”

Korbin pales as she realizes the situation she’s put herself in. I can’t help but be happy that  Lucy found out this way. At least I won’t have to confess it to her.

- “What about her?” Korbin retorts, pointing at me. “She just gets off scot-free?”

- “She didn’t do anything, so we’re going to escort her to class.”

- “You just said it yourself. She’s late.”

- “And whose fault is that?! Anyway, I’m not asking for your opinion. As far as I know, I’m still the one in charge here! You don’t realize how lucky you are that it’s me you’re dealing with,” she says sarcastically.

She orders them to walk ahead so she can keep an eye on them. As for me, I quietly stay by her side with my head down. My shoes suddenly become very interesting. Did  Lucy know? It seems like it, but how? Could Alexia have dared to say something to her? Maybe I’m just overthinking, though it wouldn’t surprise me much. I have other worries for now. If the girls get punished because of me, it won’t go without retaliation. Even if  Lucy chews them out, I doubt it will change anything about their intentions towards me.

- “Come to my office after your classes tonight. We need to discuss what just happened,”  Lucy tells me. “Understood?”

Her voice softens suddenly. She seems genuinely concerned about what’s going on right now. I nervously bite my lip. This doesn’t help my plans.

- “Do I have to?”

- “Do I really need to answer that? If you don’t come, I’ll drag you there by the skin of your neck. That would be unpleasant, if you know what I mean.”

- “Fine,” I mumble. “I’ll come.”

I give in to avoid making her anger worse. I still know when to stop. Besides, I owe her one now. Without her, who knows how this would have ended. We arrive at my classroom. I hope my teacher will let me in. He’s not obligated to, even if Lucy excuses me. If not, I’ll have to stay with them. I’d rather be in class than deal with these two bimbos. My supervisor knocks on the door and opens it after getting permission. The whole class has their eyes on us. Lucy pushes me to the front.

- “Good morning. Sorry for the disruption. I’m bringing you a student who was held up,” she adds, pointing behind her.

- “No problem. Take your seat, Ona.”

Luckily, I start with my management teacher. Since he’s young, he’s more understanding and cooler than my other teachers. It’s a shame I don’t like his subject. I sit down in my seat, trying to ignore the knowing look between my supervisor and my teacher. I shouldn’t feel this damn jealousy, but I do. If only that poor guy knew he didn’t stand a chance.  Lucy has clearly told me she prefers women over hairy men. Still, I have a feeling their looks weren’t innocent. Could she have lied to me...? That would explain a lot of things.

"Don’t forget we’re meeting later," she reminds me finally. "Sorry again for the inconvenience."

"No problem, I assure you," he smiles at her. "Goodbye."

Keep that sweet voice for someone else, jerk. I sigh, cursing myself for thinking something like that. I pull out my things, ignoring the persistent gaze of Alessia on me.

"Is everything okay?" Leah murmurs as he turns around.

"Yeah, I’m fine."

"Alright, let’s get back to it," says my teacher. "We’re continuing the lesson, Ona," he tells me. "Grab a new sheet of paper. You can catch up on the rest later."

I nod, and he offers me a smile that I can’t bring myself to return. The scene between  Lucy and him has irritated me. He turns to continue his lesson, writing a few words on the board. I pick up my pen and leave half a page blank, as Alessia suggested, to get back into the lesson as best as I can.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 4:40 PM - Restroom. 

Twenty minutes have passed since I sat on the floor of a restroom stall. I told my teacher I wasn’t feeling well. Well, it’s not entirely a lie. He let me come here, and now here I am. I wipe my face with my sleeve to remove the remaining tears. I couldn’t hold them back this time. I’ve never had good luck in my life, and I probably never will. My morale being so low is really starting to weigh on me. At this moment, I feel like I could relapse at any moment. I try to calm my trembling. It’s as if I’m going through withdrawal, even though I haven’t touched anything like that in months. I’m just at my wit’s end. I take five minutes to collect myself before standing up. I splash some water on my face to hide the damage. My teacher will probably never let me go to the restroom again after this incident. With my things still in the classroom, I have no choice but to go back. It’s my last hour anyway. What’s waiting for me afterward is even less appealing. When I return, I apologize for taking so long. Against all odds, he doesn’t seem to be mad at me. My awful appearance probably had something to do with it. I go back to my seat, and he resumes the lesson as if nothing happened. I finish the class with my head resting on my arms. I’ve missed most of my lessons anyway, so there’s no point in trying to follow along now. Besides, I don’t understand anything. I’m lucky my math teacher doesn’t reprimand me for my posture. The bell finally rings ten minutes later. I leave with my friends but abandon them on the way to head to Lucy’s office. I hope I’ve regained some color; it would save me from some comments. I wanted to stop by the restroom again, but I’m running out of time. I’m afraid  Lucy might carry out her threat if I don’t show up within ten minutes. I tap softly against the open door of the office. My facade drops when I see that only Ingrid is there. Either Lucy is already out searching the halls for me, or she’s not here yet. Either way, the answer won’t please me.

"Wow, Ona," she says, surprised. "What’s going on? You look awful."

"Nothing," I mumble. "Where’s Bronze?"

"You know you don’t have to call her that in front of me," she replies. "She told me you’d be coming. Have a seat; she shouldn’t be long."

At least she’s not looking for me everywhere. This is the first time she’s been late after giving me a time. I slump into one of the chairs in front of me and place my bag on the other.

"Can I go to the restroom?" I ask.

"No, sorry. I’m not allowed to let you leave before she sees you."

Of course. That answer doesn’t surprise me. I slump onto  Lucy’s desk while I wait. She better hurry up.

"You know, Ona, just because things are tense with  Lucy doesn’t mean you have to ignore me."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I tend to avoid anything related to Lucy, if you know what I mean."

I turn around as she sighs. She nods, giving me a sad smile.

"I understand. Just know I don’t agree with her decision, anyway. I hope she realizes it soon enough."

She falls silent as a noise at the door catches our attention. Lucy has arrived with slightly red cheeks and nose from the cold. She sighs in frustration as she takes off her jacket and scarf. At least I know neither of us seems to have had a good day. I glance over at Ingrid, who gives me a sympathetic smile before getting back to work. I didn’t expect her to be aware of what’s going on with  Lucy. Anyway, it’s nice of her to let me know. It makes me feel somewhat supported.

"Damn, it’s cold today," grumbles  Lucy. "Sorry for being late, Ona."

"Hmm."

She hangs up her things on the coat rack, then comes to sit across from me. She gives me a small smile that I don’t return. Her eyes then drift to my bag on the other chair.

"Perfect, you have your things."

"Yeah… And?"

"Take them out, please. We’re going to study together."

"What?" I frown incredulously. "I thought we were going to talk about this morning!"

"You should have guessed I already have all the answers on that. Come on, take out your things."

I sigh in frustration, running a hand through my hair. I knew it. She already knows. How did she find out? From whom? Anyway, she lured me here like a fool. This confirms that I’m far too naive under her influence.

"How do you know?" I snap.

"I never stopped keeping an eye on you," she says calmly. "Your things—I won’t repeat myself. You need to make up for your missed tests."

"Who do you think you are?" I spit. "How can you know something like that? I never asked for your help, as far as I know!"

We stare each other down, our eyes as fiery as the other’s, for a long moment before a chair scrapes the floor. It’s neither of us, so it must be Ingrid.

"Seriously, girls, this is getting ridiculous. You’re only hurting each other. I’m going to leave, so take this chance to talk and sort out your problems."

I puff out my cheeks and turn my head away, crossing my arms. There’s no way I’m talking to  Lucy when this is all her fault. We’ve said everything we needed to say to each other. Ingrid finally leaves the room, closing the door behind her. This is the first time she’s ever locked us in.  Lucy’s first reaction is to fix her hair.

"There’s no need to sulk," she scolds. "Take out your management course. You’ve got a test tomorrow."

"I had it on Monday," I reply.

"It was so disastrous that I convinced him to let you retake it tomorrow."

"Again, I didn’t ask you for anything."

"A simple ‘thanks’ would have sufficed. Now hurry up, you’re wasting my time."

"But I didn’t ask for anything, damn it!" I shout, standing up. "I might as well leave if I’m wasting your time so much!"

"That’s not what I meant," she sighs. "I’m sorry. I really want you to pass this year, so please, come sit down next to me."

I was about to turn on my heel, but her gentle eyes won me over. I hate the influence she still has over me.

"Fine," I sigh. "I agree, but this will be the last time you interfere in my life."

I openly challenge her, feeling a certain pride at having found this compromise so quickly. She tilts her head as if considering my proposal. I need compromise with her. It’s how we’ve always operated.

"Alright, I won’t intervene in your life anymore. But it will take more than just one lesson to satisfy me. We both know you’re struggling in this field."

She raises an eyebrow, challenging me in return. Always and forever with the negotiations. I suppose I can come back here, knowing she won’t interfere in my life anymore.

"Fine. Your promise not to meddle in my problems in exchange for evening study sessions."

"We’re in agreement, then."

I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m losing in this deal. She may not meddle in my life anymore, but we’ll be spending more time together. Despite this thought, I conclude our arrangement with a handshake. I then move my chair to sit next to her. I pull out some scrap paper and my notes, which look like complete gibberish to me. I had never studied management before today.

"Let’s start from the beginning. Stay focused."

I listen closely as she explains the lesson in her own way. I can already see the difference compared to Alessia. I hope this time I’ll be able to understand something; otherwise, I’m in deep trouble and should really worry about my future.

 Tuesday, February 2nd; 8:45 PM - Student Dormitory. 

I spent my evening avoiding  Lucy. After our study session, I slipped away to the cafeteria to join my friends. I felt Lucy’s eyes on me the whole time I ate. Unfortunately for me, our study session went well. I feel even more unsettled than before. Why is she doing this? She’s acting so contradictory. I mean, she pushes me away, but she continues to help me and worry about me. Someone is going to have to explain her behavior to me because I don’t understand it anymore. Maybe I should talk to Ingrid. She’ll probably explain what’s going on, why Lucy is still keeping an eye on me. Maybe she even knows what  Lucy really thinks. No one keeps an eye on someone they don’t care about, right? She’s going to drive me crazy.

"You know you need to go back, right?" Ale asks me.

"Yeah. I'll go soon...," I sighed.

Before leaving the cafeteria, I asked Lucy if I could hang out in my room for a bit, and surprisingly, she agreed. I slightly regret not asking her earlier. Maybe she would have let me do it on the other days as well.

"Hey, Ale? I had a question."

"Yes?"

"Did you tell Lucy about Korbin and her friends?"

"No," she replies, frowning. "I just asked her to find you quickly. Why?"

"You're not lying to me?"

"Why would I? I know I insist a lot, but you asked me not to do it, so I didn't."

I sigh as I get up to put my sketchbook away in my empty wardrobe. All my stuff is still in  Lucy's room since I haven't left the school since I spent the weekend at her place.

"She knows, anyway," I announce. "Unless she was bluffing, but I doubt it."

"Knows about the harassment?"

"I guess," I shrug. "I don't know exactly what she knows. Anyway, she punished Korbin and Emma today for making homophobic remarks towards me."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"We'll see when I have to face them tomorrow. Don't you think?"

I see her nervously biting her lip as if she's thinking it over. I sincerely hope she didn't say anything to  Lucy like she claims. I would be upset if she did. I decide not to push the matter and put on my jacket, then adjust my bag on my shoulders. It's time for me to return to my cursed den. I give her a quick hug and kiss her on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Ale."

"Goodnight, ex-roomie! Please come back soon, okay? I'm starting to miss you in the evenings. I feel lonely."

"Be happy I’m not hogging all the hot water anymore," I tease.

"That's true," she giggles. "You did that to me a lot! Doesn't Bronze complain about it?"

"I apologized for weeks! And no, she showers in the morning."

"Oh, you two even have your routines..." she chuckles.

I roll my eyes at her remark, though she's probably not wrong. Even though we’re not on good terms, we live together quite well. I say goodbye one last time before leaving. I walk calmly down the hallway until someone suddenly shoves me hard against the wall. I don't have time to react before the person grabs my throat to strangle me. I close my eyes, trying hard to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I grasp at her wrists, trying to pull them away, but the surprise of the attack makes it impossible. She’s managed to lift me onto my tiptoes. I quickly start running out of air.

"You bitch," spits my attacker, whom I recognize as Korbin. "You’ll pay for ratting us out! Don’t think you’ll get away with it so easily, and you’d better keep your mouth shut this time!" she snarls.

She suddenly lets go, making me collapse to the ground. I stifle a groan as she kicks me in the stomach. She giggles as she walks away down the hallway. I cough, gasping for air, before finally letting my tears fall. This girl is insane. She'll never stop! Why does this kind of thing always have to happen to me? I stay on the ground for a moment to recover from the attack. Then I force my trembling body to get up and quickly leave the hallway, heading to  Lucy's room. I don't hesitate to use the instructors' access route. Lucy has given me permission to use it in the evenings to be more discreet. When I reach the other side, I immediately lock myself in the bathroom after grabbing my things. Luckily,  Lucy was too absorbed in her computer to notice me. Maybe she watched me over the top of her screen, but I didn’t see it. I expected my shower to clear my head tonight, but it's no use. I can still feel those cursed fingers on me. I only return to the bedroom once I feel ready. I expected to have to face  Lucy for taking so long, but the room is plunged into darkness. I move blindly to find my bed. I find it without difficulty and sit on it. I wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. In front of me is  Lucy, who has her back to me. It's the first time she’s ever ignored me, and it’s happening at the moment when I need her most. I’m almost certain she’s not sleeping. Her breathing isn’t as steady as it should be. I glance at her clock, which shows 9:45 PM. I close my eyes to chase away the moisture starting to form.

"L- Lucy?" I attempt.

I bite my lip when I get no response from her. I know she's not asleep. I lower my head, playing with my fingers. This is the first time I feel ready to set my pride aside, but this situation is too much for me.

"I-I-... Uh... C-can I sleep with you?"

I feel so desperate asking her something like that, but I know full well that I won’t have a peaceful night after what just happened. I lower my eyes at her silence. I sigh in defeat as I start to pull up my blanket when I hear her move.

"Come here," she murmurs.

I blink, not expecting a response from her. To confirm her words, she gently pats the empty spot on her bed.

"You can come," she confirms.

I quickly move around the bed before she can change her mind and lie down next to her. Now I can see her face. Our eyes meet for a moment, but I quickly turn my back to her, keeping a reasonable distance. She doesn’t seem to agree with that, though, as she wraps her arm around me, pulling me close to her. She holds me tightly, as if she’s afraid I’ll leave. This thought brings tears that start streaming down my cheeks. I had terribly missed the feeling of having her close to me. I try not to choke so she won't notice, even though I think she can feel it given our proximity. Yet, she doesn’t say anything. I intertwine my fingers with hers, which are resting against my stomach, seeking as much contact as possible. Since I’m here, I might as well fully embrace the moment. A whimper escapes me unintentionally when she kisses my head.

"Goodnight, Princess."

Not feeling capable of replying, I just tighten the embrace between us. I try to calm the anxiety gripping me, but it's difficult. Yet, in her arms, I know that everything will always be okay. I finally close my eyes, trying to enjoy the moment and relax. Tomorrow is another day, and who knows what awaits me after this night.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 6)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry is full of surprises including a package shipped to Y/N's home, shows cancelled due to the flu, and an unexpected visit.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5

Word Count: 4.8k

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There’s over five weeks between when you arrive home from Chigaco and when you finally have your doctor's appointment scheduled. The first week, you feel totally fine. Spending a full weekend with Harry, dropping in his presence, and being scented by him has completely taken care of your touch deprivation symptoms. Temporarily.

By week two the dizziness starts to creep up again. Then the itching, followed by the chills. No matter what you do, you just cannot seem to get warm. Towards the end of the third week, it’s starting to become unbearable. You’re constantly exhausted and shaky and just so cold.

Even though you have been talking to Harry almost every day, you haven’t told him how bad the depri has been getting. Part of you still hasn’t gotten over your pride. It’s difficult to admit that you need help just due to your biology. The other part of you doesn’t want to worry him. You know how busy he is and the last thing you want to do is add another stressor.

Even without you saying anything, the alpha seems to sense that you’re struggling. Just as it’s getting really bad a package arrives at your door. It’s a huge box and when you open it you find it filled with a number of smaller, sealed bags.

There’s a note on top, handwritten by Harry, that reads:

Dear Y/N,

I hope you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other. I know you still haven’t been able to get new soothers yet and I was worried your touch deprivation symptoms might be bothering you again. I remember you saying that nesting doesn’t help much without other scents present.

I’ve scented a number of materials for you. Sarah has as well, in case it’s better to have a variety. The bags will trap the scent in, which is why I’ve separated the materials into a few different bags. You can open each as you need more, and they’ll hold on to our scents longer.

I know nesting is very private for omegas, so don’t feel like you need to report back if it worked or not, though I’m always here to listen if you’d like to talk about it.

Sincerely Yours,

Harry

It’s late-afternoon and you’ve already finished your work for the day, so you start looking at the labels on the bags. There are blankets, shirts, sweatshirts, hats, scarves, stuffed animals. Anything you could want to make a perfect nest.

Suddenly you’re hit with an overwhelming desire to build a nest, something you’ve never felt before. There’s a section of your room between the bed and the wall that will be the perfect spot. It’s cozy, tucked away from the rest of the apartment, and the large windows let it sunlight for most of the day.

The first thing you do is vacuum the carpet, needing it to be perfectly clean in order to begin the project. Next, you grab the old twin mattress out of your basement storage space, grateful that you hadn’t thrown it away when upgrading to a queen-sized bed. It fits perfectly in the spot you’ve chosen, and you take out your own spare comforters and blankets for the base. Since they’ll be covered in scented objects you figure you’ll save the scented blankets for another time.

After the base is made you get stuck. You’ve never successfully nested before, and you’re unsure where to begin.

It’s a frustrating feeling. You’re an omega, nesting should be second nature to you.

Before you can spiral too deep, you call Harry who immediately answers with a “Hi there, love. How are you?”

Just hearing his voice is enough to calm you and stop the spiral.

“Hi,” you reply. “I’m good. I got the package you sent. Thank you for everything.”

“Of course. I hope it helps.”

“I uhm, I’m trying to build a nest.”

“That’s wonderful!” He sincerely replies.

“Emphasis on trying,” you say. He’s quiet for a moment, giving you time to explain further. “I’ve got the base, but I’m stuck now. I have no clue where to put everything else. And I feel like a lousy omega because I should just know how to do it, right?”

“Not at all, sweetheart. First of all, you could never be a lousy omega. But there might be a bit of a disconnect between you and your inner omega. You’ve been on suppressants for years, basically since you presented. Your instincts will come. You just need to be patient with yourself.”

You take in every word he says and a weight lifts off your shoulders.

“How do you always know what you say?” You ask with a laugh.

He laughs with you for a moment before his chuckles turn into coughs.

“You alright?” You ask.

“Yea, I’m good, just a little tickle or something,” he answers, voice slightly raspier than usual. “Listen, I have to go get ready for the show soon. I ordered you some food, it should get to your apartment in a little while. Take a break, relax, eat some dinner, and try again. Don’t overthink it, just start and see where it takes you, alright?”

“Okay. Break a leg tonight,” you reply.

“Thank you darling. Talk to you soon,” he says as he ends the call.

You take a quick shower while waiting for the food to arrive. This isn't the first time Harry’s sent you a meal. It’s his way of taking care of you even from across the country. The doorbell rings and you’re not surprised to see that he ordered your favorite Italian dish, reminding you how much he truly listens, and somehow seems to know what you’re craving before you do.

You do as he says and relax during dinner, watching an episode of your favorite comfort show. After you’re finished you decide to try again. You put on Harry's first album and grab one of the bags from the box. The note says it has two shirts, a sweater, and a scarf, all with Harry scent. You open it and his scent surrounds you. The task at hand no longer seems daunting, but rather exciting.

Over the next hour you construct a perfect nest, at least in your opinion. You’ve used materials from two bags of Harry’s and one of Sarah’s, as well as scenting a few materials of your own. The combination of smells is wonderful, absolutely soothing to your omega.

Possibly your favorite thing Harry sent is a new stuffed bunny, referencing the fact that you’ve compared him to a bunny rabbit on multiple occasions.

You’re cuddled in the best, new bunny in your arms, and you pull up your phone. It’s later than you thought, and Harry’s show will be starting soon. Lately you haven’t been able to watch many of his concerts due to the time change. But you decide to stay up late tonight and start a little bit later than usual tomorrow, fully taking advantage of the freedom you have for your job.

Everything starts normally but you notice a change in Harry’s demeanor about halfway through. His voice starts getting raspier, he’s turning his head to cough and clear his throat more often than usual, and he generally just seems a bit off.

That coughing earlier was definitely not just a simple little tickle.

You give him thirty minutes after the show ends to get home and shower before you FaceTime him. He answers immediately and says, “What are you still doing awake?” His voice sounds even worse than before.

“I was watching your show,” you answer.

“So you saw how shit I was?”

This is what you were afraid of. This is why you stayed up even later to talk to him. Because you knew he’d be beating himself up even though he’d obviously pushed through pain to give the very best concert he could.

“Harry, no, you absolutely were not shit. I won’t lie, you sounded a little croaky when you spoke, but the songs sounded perfect. You still put on an excellent show. How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m upset for starters. But physically I kind of feel like garbage. My throat burns, my body’s aching, and I’m exhausted.”

“You need to rest, Harry. Give yourself time to get better.”

“I know that you’re right, but it’s hard. There’s always something that needs to be done,” he says with a sad, small voice that nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s not healthy to push yourself too hard. You need a break or it’s only going to get worse.” Your voice is laced with concern, as you practically plead with him to take care of himself. You’ve gotten to know him well over the past few weeks and you’re fully aware of his tendency to overwork himself, and his habit of putting everything before himself and his health. He’s explained that it’s a holdover from his early experience in the music industry and how hard management pushed him and the other boys when they first started. Since then, it’s been hard to change his mentality on the issue.

He nods without saying anything, and you take it as a win; albeit a small one. At least he’s willing to agree that he needs to take it easy. You can only hope that he actually will.

“Where are you?” he suddenly asks. “I don’t recognize your background.”

You smile and blush before replying, “I’m in my nest.”

“You are? It worked? How to do feel?” There’s a definite change in his attitude now, excitement rather than despair.

“It worked. Thank you again for the materials and the help earlier. I feel,” you pause for a moment to think before saying, “content. And safe.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. Truly just made me feel better knowing I could help you in some way.”

“I wish I could do the same for you.”

“You do. You help me. By calling, and talking me down from a spiral. And looking so cozy in your lovely nest.” Your cheeks warm again at the alpha complimenting the nest you worked so hard on. You feel proud to have made something that he approves of, especially with no prior experience. Suddenly thoughts of nests you can make for the two of you, maybe one day pups as well, force their way into your mind.

“I’m glad I could make you feel better,” is all you say in reply.

Your eyes meet for a moment, just simply taking each other in, before Harry finally says, “It’s pretty late here, and I know it is way past your bedtime. Get some sleep darling.”

“I will. Please, take it easy tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, love,” he replies with a soft smile.

“Good night Harry.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You roll over, nose facing the wall of the nest, where Harry’s scent is strongest and you’re able to pick up on a hint of Sarah’s as well. Even though you’re worried about Harry, your surroundings have you calm enough to quickly fall asleep.

The next few days are difficult. Harry gets diagnosed with the flu and seems to just be getting sicker. He does everything he can to get better, but unfortunately ends up needing to postpone three shows while he continues to rest and get back to performance shape.

He’s upset and frustrated about the situation, and you spend much of those days texting and talking on Facetime to reassure him that no one is mad at him. While you agree that they might be a bit disappointed, you remind him that his true fans care about him and wouldn’t want him to push himself too far.

One week of rest does him a world of good. It’s obvious at his next show, exactly seven days later, that he has made a full recovery. You stay up again to watch the very beginning of the concert and fall into a peaceful sleep knowing that Harry is back in full health and back to doing what he loves.

Another week after that Harry’s finished his US residencies and it’s finally time for your doctor’s appointment.

As much as you’ve been looking forward to being seen and having your problem fixed, you’re incredibly nervous going in. You hadn’t been able to speak to Harry that morning as he was traveling and you’re more anxious than you expected to be.

Your doctor is a lovely beta woman who doesn’t bat an eye when you lay your sweatshirt next to you on the bed during the exam. You’d pulled it out of one of the bags that morning specifically to have Harry’s scent with you, and since you had to change into a patient gown this is the next best option. It works in keeping you calm as she goes through the rather invasive checkup.

After the physical exam is over she leaves so you can change before discussing what she found. Once you’re dressed the nurse leads you to her office and you sit across from her at the desk.

“First of all,” she begins. “I want to assure you that you’re perfectly healthy.” You breathe a sigh of relief at that, not even realizing that you’d been at least a little concerned that something was wrong.

“It seems we were right in assuming that you’ve developed a tolerance to your medication regimen. You were on a fairly high dosage so unfortunately it won’t be as simple as switching to different meds. You’d likely start having these same problems within just a year or possibly a couple of months.”

You listen closely, hanging on to every word even though you’re worried about where this is headed.

“What I would like to have you do,” she continues, “Is go completely off the medications for six months. This will allow your body to basically reset. I won’t lie, it will be tough for a while, especially if you don’t have an alpha, but it will ensure that the meds will be completely effective for years to come once you start back up.”

“I’ve never been unmedicated before,” you quickly say, trying to communicate how unsure you feel about what she is saying.

“Why don’t I tell you what you can expect during this time?” She asks and you nod, wanting as much information as possible.

“If you don’t have an alpha, then you’ll likely experience touch deprivation. It may be a little worse than what you’ve reported feeling recently, but I promise it will not be debilitating. It takes over a year for those symptoms to become severe. Nesting with objects that have been scented by an alpha will help with that. There are a couple of programs that can provide you with those materials if needed. I can give you the contact information.”

“No, thank you. I have a couple of alphas who have given me things. I’m sure they’ll be able to re-scent them for me if I ask,” you reply.

“Okay, wonderful. I’m glad you have some trusted alphas to help you. I urge you to accept help from them during this. It will make everything much easier for you and your inner omega. Now I know you like to hide your scent in public, which I completely understand given the way people tend to treat omegas. While you can’t take the oral scent blockers, the spray on kind is fine in moderation. I don’t recommend constant use though. And of course, being scented by an alpha is not only approved, but recommended.”

You smile slightly at this, thinking Harry would probably be happy with an excuse to scent you whenever possible.

“The last thing we need to discuss is heats. I have here that you’ve only experience two partial heats, correct?”

“Yes. My presentation heat, which lasted about a day, and then a two day heat a few months later before we landed on the right suppressant dosage.”

“Okay, you should experience two heats while off the medications. The first will be in about three months and will be similar to that last one you had. Shouldn’t last more than forty-eight hours and won’t be too intense. The second one should occur three months after that. This will be your first true heat and will last anywhere from four to seven days. It will also be more intense. I’ll give you some literature to read up on and some good sources to do research so that you can be prepared. After that second heat we’ll begin working out your new medicine regimen. Do you have any questions?”

Yea, you think to yourself, I have about a million questions. But no complete thoughts actually form in your brain, so you just reply, “No, I think I got everything.”

“Well, if anything does come up please reach out. I recommend email unless it’s something urgent since I have some time each day to sit and give a detailed reply, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Since you’ve already taken your meds today I’ll list tomorrow as the first day without them. You may start to feel a bit different within the next week.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” you say as you both stand. She walks you out of the office and you part ways as she says, “Take care.”

You sit in your car for a moment as your mind spins with all the information you just received. When you finally feel focused enough to drive you wonder where to go next. You’d blocked the day off for this, knowing you probably would be too distracted to work at all after the appointment.

For a minute you debate stopping for a coffee on the way home. Getting a little treat after something unpleasant is like, a core part of girlhood.

But when you pull out of the parking lot you immediately start driving home. Because you know what you need right now, and it’s not a mocha latte.

Walking through your front door you quickly change into comfy clothes and curl up in your nest. This is exactly what your omega needs after the stressful morning. Nothing can beat being surrounded by the alpha’s wonderful scent.

Well, nothing except actually being with the alpha.

But that’s currently impossible. He’s traveling, probably almost in Mexico by now.

Right?

He’s going to Mexico. That’s what you keep telling yourself. It’s what you say when there’s a surprise knock on the door. It’s what you repeat when you open the door and see none other than Harry Styles standing in your apartment hallway.

He’s going to Mexico. Except he’s very much standing in front of you, flowers in one hand, a tray of drinks in the other, and a small suitcase next to him.

“Hi,” he says sweetly, dimples making an appearance as he smiles at you.

“Hi,” you answer just as quietly, still in disbelief of what you’re seeing.

You step back, silently inviting him in. He places the drinks and flowers on the table in your entryway so he can roll his suitcase in, shutting the door behind him.

The two of you stand there for a moment just taking each other in. Slowly, Harry leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls back just an inch and there’s a moment of tension between you.

The moment doesn’t last long. You don’t know who moves first, but your lips quickly crash together in a kiss more heated than any you’ve shared before. His hands grip your waist, and you bite back a whine at the feeling of how big they are on your body. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one resting on the back of his neck while the other slides through his hair.

You begin to walk backwards into the living room, never breaking contact. Harry sits on your couch, and you follow to straddle him, kneeling over him so your legs bracket either side of his. The kiss gets more intense, and this time you can’t hide the noise of pleasure when his tongue just barely passes between your lips.

After a few minutes of what is by far the best make out of your life, his hands move to your thighs. They slide up further and you become overwhelmed, pulling back from the kiss in response.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, doesn’t question what happened or if you’re okay. He knows why you stopped. He can read that you’ve gone as far as you’re comfortable with at this point. He smiles, presses one more chaste kiss to your lips, and then readjusts you so you’re sitting next to him, legs resting over his lap. He pulls you in, so you’re tucked against his side, and you stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being close together.

“So, how did the appointment go today?” he finally asks.

Before you can answer your stomach starts to growl loudly, causing you both to laugh.

“Hold that thought,” he says, “let’s get some lunch first huh?”

“Sounds like a good plan. I can make some for us,” you say, and immediately head to the kitchen.

Harry uses the restroom while you prepare some sandwiches and fruit salad. It gives you a moment to process everything that happened that morning. You also think about how you’ll answer Harry’s last question. You decide to tell him the truth, tell him everything. He’s proved how deeply he cares about you, and honestly at this point you can’t imagine keeping anything from him.

So over lunch, you explain everything your doctor said. You tell him about the touch deprivation, and he reassures you that he’ll make sure you always have freshly scented materials to wear and put in your nest. You even tell him about the upcoming heats, though not without blushing the whole time.

“Is there anything I can do to help with that? Would you want me to be with you through it?” You’re endeared by the fact that his blush matches yours now.

You think about his offer for a moment and reply, “I don’t think so. At least not the first one. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. And, uhm,” you pause for a moment before admitting something. You’re scared to tell him, but you’ve already talked about enough embarrassing things today with him and your doctor, so one more can’t hurt. “I’ve never been knotted before. And though I want to someday, I want it to be right. And I want it to be when I’ll remember it, not while I’m under the haze of a heat. When we’ll both remember it.” You’re nervous at the end, including him the way you did, like you’re assuming he wants that too.

“I completely understand. There will be a time when we’re ready. And it will be perfect,” you share another shy smile, reassured that he included himself without any hesitation. He wants this, and he wants this with you. He sees a future to your relationship, just like you do.

“Now,” he continues, “when it comes to helping with the touch deprivation and you requiring scenting, I think we should choose some dates when we can be together. It’s not healthy for you if we’re apart for long periods of time. And honestly, I don’t want to go months without seeing you.”

“Me neither,” you reply.

“Do you want to pull out our calendars now, or forget about all this for the afternoon and just spend the day together and make some plans over the phone after I leave tomorrow?”

“Make plans later. Definitely. I want to enjoy the day with you.”

And so, the two of you have a lazy afternoon in. It had started to rain while you ate lunch, which gives you the perfect excuse to turn on the fireplace and lounge in the living room. You watch movies, play some games, and get lost listening to each other tell stories. Harry orders in dinner, Thai this time, and you each take your own showers before getting ready for bed.

Harry hasn’t been in your room yet, and you hesitate before opening the door to let you both in. He’s seen your nest over Facetime, but this is different, and suddenly you’re hit with the overwhelming need for him to approve of it. You don’t know what you’ll do if the alpha doesn’t like it.

Of course, your fear is for nothing. Because the second you bring Harry to the side of your bed and show him what you made, he immediately showers you in compliments. He tells you how perfect it is, how cozy it looks.

“Would you like to lay in it with me? I know it’s kind of small, so I understand if-” he cuts you off before you can complete your sentence and says, “I would be honored to be in your nest with you.”

He looks to you for guidance, needing to know exactly where you want him. He knows how important nests are to omegas, and the last thing he wants is to mess it up in any way. You instruct him where to lay down and he does so without pause. He holds his arms out and you quickly go to him.

It’s no surprise when you begin to purr. Wrapped in his arms, in your nest, surrounded by his scent, you think you may have entered heaven.

No one speaks for a while, and you start to think maybe Harry’s fallen asleep. That is until you hear him clear his throat. You look to him, knowing he wants to say something, and he takes a deep breath.

“I have a question for you. And I know it may be too soon, but it seems silly to delay when we obviously have a connection. We’re old enough now to know what we want. And what I want is you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or at least not yet, but I couldn’t leave without asking. Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

“Harry, I would absolutely love to.”

He holds you closer in response pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling back and seeing the huge smile on your face.

“There’s just one more question,” he says. He seems even more nervous about this one, but you remain calm, even releasing some calming pheromones of your own.

You can tell he senses them as he relaxes and says, “Would you also do me the honor of being my omega?”

This question is even more unexpected than the last. He’s right in saying that it’s very early to ask, but at the same time, it’s not too early at all. Because there’s an undeniable connection between the two of you, not just as people, but as alpha and omega. It would be silly not to make it official.

Happy tears fill your eyes, and you nod yes in answer to his question. His eyes are similarly watery, and he leans down to press a kiss over your mating spot, a promise of what’s to come in the future, and you snuggle impossibly closer to him. To Harry. Your boyfriend. And your alpha.

You sleep soundly through the night, waking only when you realize Harry isn’t beside you. The spot is still warm, so he hasn’t been gone long. It’s early, a little before 7 a.m., and you hear Harry getting ready in the bathroom. He’ll be leaving soon. He mentioned a car would be picking him up to take him to the airport first thing in the morning.

Before you can get up he crouches down, running a hand over your hair. He’s ready to go, but he lays down next to you, soaking up every last second before he absolutely needs to leave. He scents you, does it so strongly that he’s practically scent marked the room, and you’re grateful for that. Since you’ll be stopping your medications today, having a space filled with his smell will help ease you through the transition.

Too quickly, his phone rings with a message that his ride is waiting outside.

He leans down to kiss you and say, “Everything is going to be alright. We’ll work it out, and I’m with you the whole way. Goodbye, my omega.”

You preen at the title and press another kiss to his lips before replying, “Thank you, alpha. Be safe.”

“I will, I promise,” he says. With one final press of his lips on your forehead, he drags himself out of the comfort of your nest and then out of your apartment.

It’s quiet without him, but you reflect on his parting words. You believe them wholeheartedly. It’s going to be difficult, but he’ll be there to help.

With the reassurance that you’re not alone, and Harry’s delicious scent filling the room, you slip back to sleep, feeling nervous but hopeful about what’s to come.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you all liked it as well!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging @jerseygirlinca

[arminsbf]

My Own Summer

pairing: bsf!armin arlert x m!reader

summary: staying at armin's lake house over the summer has been nice, but tonight, neither of you can sleep. maybe you can help each other out?

cw: smut 18+, oral (armin receiving), masturbation (reader), NO penetration, porn with a little bit of plot, no use of y/n, a lot of awkwardness, pining/yearning, reader is anxious/overthinks some things, armin has glasses, college au i guess, armin says he gets off to reader all the time

word count: 5.4k

title: “my own summer (shove it)” by deftones

a/n: finally done… i procrastinated a lot working on this 😭 was supposed to be done last week but. here we are. this is my first fic i’ve ever written so give me some grace… i’m terrified to post this!!!!!

tags: @shepnicolo

You can’t sleep. You squirm on the couch, unable to get comfortable. It’s too hot under the blanket. Makes sense, it’s the middle of summer. It's also too cold without them… because the AC is blasting. The moonlight shines in from the skylight and irritates you further. You press your face into your pillow, trying to hide from your awareness, but now it’s too dark. It messes with your vestibular system, for some reason, and now you’re all dizzy. You sit up.

This living room is nice. The gibbous moon helps you to see, as you squint your eyes to look out the patio door. You can kind of see the lake from here. But it’s hard to make it out in the darkness. Really, this whole house is nice. Armin’s grandparents must be rich rich. But this couch isn’t really made for sleeping on.

The beds weren’t, either. Clearly, Armin’s grandparents don’t spend any of their time here. The beds were usable — twin-sized mattresses and rickety wood frames. But, you doubt either of you could even fit on those beds if you lied straight. And on top, there were those faded quilts that must’ve been a century old. Usable. But not quite fit for the sweltering heat.

So, you and Armin opted for the sectional couch in the living room. It’s big enough to fit the both of you — one on each side — and the pillows from the bedroom and the few blankets from the linen closet worked well enough. The big skylight is pretty, you can see all the stars in the sky, and the patio is nice. The fabric of the couch doesn’t complement sunburn, though.

Armin knows this better than you do. Forgetting to put sunscreen on his face just once got him this stupid sunburn. It’s not debilitating, and the aloe vera helped. But the rough texture of the couch against his face, when he moves just a bit too low on his pillow, reminds him that sunscreen is very important. Besides, he can hear you shifting around, and it’s not putting him at ease. He at least wants you to be able to sleep. He sits up and sees that you’ve already done the same.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, and you jump, startled. You hadn’t heard him at all. “Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you up?” You reply, and try to make eye contact in the darkness. You can see him pretty clearly, and he’s definitely looking at your face — but he’s also definitely not making eye contact with you. You look to his left and you think you can see his glasses on the end table. Of course, why would he be wearing them to bed?

“No, no, it’s fine.” You watch him try to rub his face, and then he flinches. “Sunburn.” He points at his face as if you didn’t already know. He shakes his head. “I’m tired,” he breathes. “Me too,” you nod, laughing to yourself at his dysfunctional state. You yawn, and stretch, but immediately regret moving your arms away from your body. The AC is definitely too high. You shiver slightly. “It’s cold as hell,” you mumble, and he looks around, searching for the thermostat. He struggles to see much of anything in the darkness. Been nearsighted his whole life.

“It’s fine, Min, don’t worry about it. It’s better than outside.” You say, after watching him look around the room for a few moments. He turns back to you and smiles gently, but you can see the goosebumps on his skin. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of sweatpants. You’re wearing about the opposite, an old sleep shirt and cotton boxers. “Sorry that I can’t turn it down some, Grandpa set it up before we came. He said that it was really finicky and told me not to mess with it at all.” He mumbles, shifting slightly. “I’m sure that we could just turn it down, but… he seemed pretty serious about it.” He adds. You barely register what he’s said, staring at his bare skin and the way his chest rises and falls subtly as he breathes.

You’re glad he’s not wearing his glasses. You look back into his eyes and it doesn’t seem like he noticed your staring. God, he looks so good — his hair is messy from sleep, and his blue eyes reflect the moonlight like diamonds. You watch him shiver, and then he shifts again. He seems nervous. “It’s okay, not your fault. I wouldn’t wanna do anything if he said not to.” You respond, a bit late. He nods. You’re not sure if he’s really paying attention to what you’ve said either.

Armin thinks back to a night a few months ago, after one of Connie’s parties. You had told Armin that you didn’t feel like being by yourself, and he offered to let you stay the night. Originally, you were going to sleep on the couch, but after a few restless hours, you wordlessly crawled into Armin’s bed. He was going to ask what you were doing — not that he minded at all, (secretly, he was a mess, you were curled up against him in his bed!) — but you really did look tired. Like you needed the sleep. Like you couldn’t sleep without him. So, he didn’t say anything. Just a few minutes later, he could hear your breathing evening out.

He’s sure that now, the situation would be similar. That if you lie with him, you would be able to sleep. And, it’s cold. He could help keep you warm. That’s all there is to it. He has no other reasons to want to lie with you. He convinces himself of this, that he only wants to sleep with you in his arms because you might appreciate it. That’s all it is. Definitely not because he wants to feel you, your breathing, your heartbeat. Hear your blinking and the quiet noises you make in your sleep. Run his fingers along your arms, your back, your legs. He definitely doesn’t want to do any of that.

“Well, um… I could lie with you, if you wanted. Just because it’s cold — and I know that…” A pause. “…know that you have trouble sleeping by yourself sometimes.” He suggests, and your stomach fills with butterflies. You can’t really read him. He sounds nervous. But, he’s clearly thinking something, and you have no idea what.

He isn’t nervous that you’re going to say no. He knows that you’ll agree with him — he isn’t worried about getting rejected. He’s just worried you’ll get the wrong idea. You’ll think it’s because he wants to get close to you, wants to hold you, wants to kiss your skin and tell you that he loves you. The wrong idea. He’s only offering because he knows it’ll help you sleep. Right?

“I — yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You murmur a reply, failing miserably to hide your embarrassment. Of course, you want it. That would be the most amazing thing in the world. You just can’t believe he asked. And he was so normal about it, too. Sure, he seemed a little nervous, but he asked about it like it was no big deal. Your face warms just thinking about it — about lying with him, feeling his warmth. Maybe he would run his fingers through your hair.

Or, maybe you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. Maybe he just means that he’ll lie next to you and that you’ll face opposite directions. You pray that he doesn’t mean that. You hope he means he’ll hold you close, as close as he can. That he’ll keep you warm and kiss your hair.

He stands and walks towards your section of the couch. You sit there awkwardly, not sure what to do. He lies down, his head now on your pillow. He looks up at you expectantly. You notice how good he looks, his blonde hair splayed out across the pillow like that. Looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes and pouty lips. You blink, trying to refocus.

You realize that you two do not fit on this couch at all. It’s already a bit cramped for one person to sleep, and Armin completely takes up the whole section. You shift, unsure of what to do. You could lie on him, but… that’s probably not what he means. You stare at his chest — a lot more obvious than you think you are — and wonder if you should do it.

He parts his lips to speak, but you make up your mind, and he closes his mouth again. You rest your head on his chest, your arm across his torso. You sling one of your legs over his hips, now mostly lying on top of him. You feel his breath hitch, but he doesn’t say anything. He squirms slightly to get more comfortable, then pulls you a bit closer. It’s now that you understand how much trouble you’re in.

He smells so nice. Like cedar and vanilla. Like he’s been out in the sun. Your stomach flips, thinking about how his bed and his clothes smell like him too. You want to sleep in his bed with him when you get back. Okay, wow. You’re getting ahead of yourself. But he does have his hand on your lower back, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to flatline right now. His skin is so warm, and you can hear his heartbeat — slow and steady. It’s putting you to sleep. You never want to leave here.

But, you will yourself to stay awake. Yeah, you wanna sleep… but there’s no way you could waste this opportunity by falling asleep and having to get up and forget about it in the morning. He has freckles all across his arms and chest, all over his skin. You trace your fingertips over them without even thinking about it. He’s so pretty, and you want to memorize everything about his body. He shivers under your touch and you pull away, realizing what you’re doing. “Sorry,” you mumble, hiding your face in his skin, knowing that he must be looking at you.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” he breathes. He sounds a lot less confident than he means to. You can feel his breathing speed up, but he keeps his hand on your back. His fingers tighten and grip your shirt slightly. Like he doesn’t want you to leave. Armin stares at the ceiling. He keeps himself from looking at you. Even though he’s the one who suggested this, he knows he might do something he regrets if he looks down at you — sees your head on his chest, your pretty hands, your long legs, beautiful eyes… He shouldn’t look.

The silence stretches on. Armin is almost completely still, like he’s scared to move — scared to disturb you. You squirm on top of him, suddenly wanting to be closer. You’re embarrassed about it, you’re already so close to him, you literally have your head on his chest… and yet, you want to be closer. You feel a familiar warmth in your stomach and you want to run, and scream, you want to go home and get away from this man that has completely captured you.

You shut your eyes tight and try to ignore it. You try to push away the thoughts filling your head, about what he could do to you, how you could make him sound. You think of his hands and his mouth, and his cock, and now you’re really embarrassed — you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat and your breathing pick up, how your face warms… how your thighs shift slightly. He must know.

Unbeknownst to you, Armin has barely noticed your state. He’s too busy thinking about how you feel against him, the warmth of your skin, and the fidgety touch of your hands. He’s trying to ignore his thoughts, too, thoughts about kissing you and making you feel good. He moves his hand, rubbing your back soothingly. He can feel that you’re still awake, and he just wants you to be comfortable and be able to sleep. He hears you whimper quietly and he finally turns his attention back to you, looking away from the ceiling and towards your face.

He says your name softly, seeing your small squirming and labored breath. “You alright?” He asks in a low voice, not wanting to be too loud. He is genuinely concerned, worried that you might be uncomfortable. You sit up, your hand on his chest. You’re basically sitting on his thigh. You part your lips to speak, but you don’t say anything. He blinks up at you, seeing your flushed face and blown pupils.

Even in the low light, you watch his face start to turn red. His eyes trail down your body, slowly, as if trying to make sure he’s not seeing anything. He notices your body language, how your hips shift ever so slightly, and he really can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re turned on? Why? Did he do something? But, really, he can’t imagine you being turned on by him for any reason. Not even because he has low self-esteem or something, just that… it’s you. He knows you aren’t straight, but, there’s no way that he’s your type.

He thinks this until you look at him with fuck-me eyes, and he starts to reconsider. Seeing you looking at him like that, his self-control flies out the window. You two stay like this for a moment. You sit there, far too nervous to make a move or say anything — you’re already mortified that Armin is seeing you like this.

Until he places a hand on your waist. He reaches up with his right hand and cradles your face in his palm. He says your name again, in a way you’ve never heard him say before. So tender, so sweet, like you’re something to be worshipped. Your stomach flips when he starts to pull you closer — pull you down to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling your face even closer to his own. You close your eyes at the same time as him and he presses his lips to yours.

You must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Armin is actually kissing you. Your neck hurts slightly from leaning over like this, so you move off from on top of him. You lie on your side, your back against the back of the couch, and he turns onto his side as well. He keeps kissing you, and he moves the hand that was on your face into your hair. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you, running his tongue over your bottom lip. 

You start to open your mouth, wanting more, wanting all of him. But, he suddenly freezes, pulling away. He keeps his hands where they are. His breathing is fast as he stares at you, and you pout, wondering what happened. Did you do something? Were you reading this all wrong? Does he not want you? Is he mad? Your mind spirals as he continues to stare at you, and now you feel sick.

“I — I’m sorry,” he finally says, and he has this look of guilt on his face that makes you want to cry. “I don’t know why I…” He trails off, looking back at your lips again, then quickly back to your eyes. He parts his lips to speak again, and you don’t want to hear it anymore — him apologizing for kissing you. You’ve been wanting this ever since you met him, and he’s apologizing. You might have to kill him.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else. He seems to forget his guilt because he pulls you closer, his leg slotting between yours. You don’t even think about it — grinding your hips lightly against his thigh. You harden embarrassingly fast, and hope he doesn’t notice. You gasp softly from the small, muted pleasure, and he takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocate, and move one hand up his neck into his hair, tugging slightly. He moans. You pull away to breathe for a moment, and you’ve never been more mad to be out of breath. “Armin,” you whisper, and he nods, his eyes glazed over. “Mhm,” he responds, pulling you back in.

You can feel him, semi-hard in those stupid gray sweatpants that have been driving you crazy since you got here. You keep kissing him, unhooking an arm from around his neck. You reach down, palming him through his sweatpants. He groans, and you feel him harden under your touch. His hips jerk slightly as you run your fingers up and down the outline of his dick against his thigh. He’s fully hard now and his grip on your waist is almost painful.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. You dip your head down and press your lips against the warm skin of his neck. He shivers, hand cradling the back of your head. You press open-mouth kisses along the column of his throat, sucking lightly, but careful not to leave any marks. You move lower, to his collarbones, along his shoulder.

He says your name softly, pulling his leg out from between yours. He reaches for the waistband of your boxers — he felt your grinding earlier and knows you’re just as hard as he is. He hooks his fingers under the elastic, but you grab his wrist, lifting your head to look at him.

He looks at you, unsure of what's happening. He doesn’t know what to say — can’t tell how you’re feeling. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You, on the other hand, know exactly how you feel, but you struggle to find any words to describe the way you want him.

“I — I wanna suck you off,” you eventually blurt out, giving up on trying to find some more graceful way to say it. Of course, you want him to touch you, but now isn’t the time. You need to make him feel good. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed about since you first saw him. It’s not about you. And, you hope that after this, there’ll be plenty more opportunities for him to help you. Just not now.

“Okay,” he laughs, but you can still hear the same heat in his voice. You untangle your limbs from each other, and he sits up, waiting to see what you want to do. You get up from the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He sits back, his legs spread wide enough for you to have enough room. You reach up to try to tug at his sweatpants, but he stops you. “Wait,” he says, looking like he just remembered something.

He stands from the couch, practically stepping over you. He walks back over to the other section of the couch where he had been previously sleeping — and grabs his glasses from the end table. He walks back over, quickly resituating himself. He puts his glasses back on and looks down at you, motioning for you to continue. “Sorry. Wanna see you,” he says lowly, with a soft smile.

You smile back, meekly, and tug on his sweatpants again. You hook your fingers under the elastic, along with his boxers, and pull them down, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, hitting his stomach. You’re so ardent that you almost feel sick — you’ve been waiting so long to finally have Armin like this. And he’s here, now, tanned from the sun and hair messy from sleep, his skin bare for you. He’s hard for you.

You spit into your hand, and reach up, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping him lightly — feeling the slight thrum of his pulse under your palm. You smooth your thumb over his reddened tip, smearing a sticky bead of his pre over his slit. He hisses, limbs tightening and then relaxing slightly. You scoot forward a bit, moving your hand up and down loosely. He sighs quietly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

You press your lips tentatively to his tip, making your way down with feather-light kisses. He says your name, almost whiney, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but from the way you can feel him pulsing in your hand, you understand that he’s impatient.

You kitten-lick at the tip before pulling your hand away, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, feeling the vein there. He groans softly, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “C’mon,” he says gently. And you thought you were the impatient one.

You bring your hand back, wrapping your fingers around the base. No way you’re fitting all of him. You finally wrap your lips around his tip, sucking lightly, before relaxing your throat, moving down further. He gasps quietly, and you can feel him resist the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.

You reach about as far as you can go without gagging and embarrassing yourself, so you work the rest of him with your hand. You pull your head back up slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. He groans, moving his hand to the top of your head. He slides his fingers into your hair gently, massaging your scalp lightly.

You continue this, bobbing your head up and down, and he whines, his head slumping back against the couch. His hips jerk slightly and he pushes himself further into your mouth. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. “Sorry, I — fuck,” he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair slightly. He’s sure you’re trying to suck the life out of him. “You look so good.” He breathes, another moan falling from his lips. “Feels amazing,” he adds, looking down at you with bleary eyes.

You keep going, hollowing your cheeks, determined to make him feel even better. God, he makes the prettiest noises. With another moan from Armin, louder than you thought he would be, his hips thrust up into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. His fingers comb through your hair as if trying to soothe you. Despite the burn in your lungs, you don’t stop.

You grow increasingly distracted by your own problem — that you’re still just as hard as he is, leaking and staining your boxers. You can feel your pre-cum against your thigh, sticky and uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you lift your head, pulling off him. You keep using your hand, slick from your saliva. You try to catch your breath, and he tries to catch his. He has a small pout on his face, probably disheartened that you stopped. 

You pull yourself through the fly in your boxers, not the most comfortable — but you don’t really feel like getting up and taking them off. You spit into your hand like you did for Armin earlier, and you stroke yourself at about the same speed as you do him. You feel relief almost instantly, biting your lip at the respite. Feels a lot better than sitting there shifting your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut and you rest your head against his thigh, your breathing finally slowing.

“You okay?” He asks gently, running his fingers through your hair. He sounds just as winded as you. “Mhm,” you nod, kissing up his shaft again. You sit back up, resuming your ministrations with your mouth — and you swear he’s harder than before, if it’s even possible.

You keep your gaze locked on his eyes, but you notice he isn’t making eye contact with you. He stares between your legs — watching as you touch yourself — and you squirm. This is so embarrassing. He moans again, and he sounds like heaven. He must notice your embarrassment.

“You know, I — I’ve wanted you since Eren introduced us,” he breathes, head tilting back. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but—” his hips jerk again and he moans, interrupting himself. His fingers tighten more in your hair, and it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You know he can’t help it. “Fuck… I’ve been… getting off to you — all the… all the time, I — do you… do you too? Have you been?” He gasps, and he looks like he regrets saying anything. You’re embarrassed to admit it, but of course you have. You’re sure you do it more than he does. Kind of humiliating, even thinking about yourself doing that. How desperate have you gotten?

Even so, he just admitted that he does it too, and you never thought you’d even get to be here. Giving Armin a blowjob.

Well — not really. You have thought about it. Probably too many times, touching yourself in the dead of night, thinking about your best friend and all the things you could do to him. All the things he could do to you. Moaning his name into your pillow just to see him the next day and act like nothing happened.

You whimper around him, having no other way to truly communicate. The sound sends vibrations up and down his shaft and he whines. He looks into your eyes, his gaze so tender you feel like crying. You try your best to smile up at him, and nod a little, even with your mouth occupied. You swear he whimpers as he stares down at you, cupping your face with one hand and keeping the other in your hair. “Yeah?” He asks, eyebrows pinching together, just as embarrassed as you are.

He laughs to himself, his muscles tensing. “Glad to know it’s not just me,” he laughs, his voice strained. You watch his stomach tighten, his thighs closing slightly. He hiccups out a moan, tugging on your hair. “Wait,” he gasps, as you run your tongue up the side of his length. “I’m—“ He cuts himself off with a groan, his head hitting the back of the couch with a quiet thump. “Wait, wait,” he moans, with a mumble of your name.

He must be close. You watch him shut his eyes tight as he continues to pull on your hair, probably without even realizing it. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, hoping to bring him closer to the edge. You speed up your own hand — making sure that you’re just as close as he is. It’s a lot, and your hips jerk away from the stimulation. It’s too much, you can barely make yourself keep up the pace, but you have to. There’s no way he finishes before you.

His jaw clenches and then goes slack, his mouth hanging open slightly. He’s quiet now, his body so tense that it looks painful. He moans, just once, and he gasps your name, and you swear you see his back arch ever so slightly as he comes without much warning. You swallow harshly on instinct, and, while it’s not a lot, you assumed it would be a few more minutes.

Nothing against him, he looks absolutely amazing above you — chest heaving and face somehow even redder than his sunburn. His hair is a bit mussed up, but, maybe it’s always been like that. And his glasses are slightly crooked.

But, so much for finishing before him.

You pull off of him with a quiet pop, and you bring your now free hand to rest on his thigh. You continue to chase your own high, and you bite your lip, not wanting to make any embarrassing sounds now that he’s done. You rest your cheek against his other thigh like you had before, whining quietly, your hips bucking into your hand. Armin’s still out of it, his eyes shut. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything better than this — your best friend, all fucked out. Because of you.

With a few last touches, you finally reach your own peak, after what felt like hours. You feel electricity shoot through you as you, thankfully, release into the palm of your hand. If you had stained the rug it might’ve been the death of you. You moan from the overwhelming pleasure, all of it much faster than you’re used to. Usually, you take as much time as you need with this — in the comfort of your own bed in the middle of the night. Alone. And, now, here you are, having made yourself come, in maybe 5 minutes, on your knees, in front of your best friend. Not the most familiar.

You take some time to catch your breath, eventually sitting back up and quickly pulling yourself back into your boxers. You stay there awkwardly with your hand all soiled, wondering what’s next. He opens his eyes, coming down from his high. He looks down at you and smiles. “Wow. Oh my god,” he laughs, still panting. You nod, laughing with him. You get up, feeling a bit of an ache in your legs from having stayed in the same position for so long. “Um… let me…” You mumble, embarrassed, gesturing to your messy hand. He nods, getting what you mean.

You quickly head to the bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly to get rid of any evidence of your encounter. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is all a mess from Armin pulling and running his fingers through it. Your face is still flushed, lips a little swollen. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping to get a grip, because you’re not sure what happens next.

Are things gonna be weird? Maybe he’ll have some post-nut clarity and never want to talk to you again. Maybe he was straight this whole time and will think you’re weird for wanting to do it. Maybe he’ll tell everyone about how bad you are at giving head.

Or, maybe not. You’re overthinking this. Armin’s not like that. Maybe he’ll say he likes you just as much as you like him. Hopefully, you’ll get together and finally get to be with the man you’ve been so in love with. You’re pretty sure things will be normal.

You head back to the living room, feeling cold again now that he’s not with you. You had forgotten about the AC. You regret splashing cold water on your face. But, you’re pretty sure it’s really because Armin was so warm and now you’re not with him. Yes, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold. You walk a little quicker to get back to him. This house is too big.

You get back, seeing him sprawled out on your side of the couch. He’s pulled his boxers and sweatpants back on, and he’s taken his glasses off. He opens his eyes at the sound of your footsteps and sees you standing there awkwardly. He smiles, gesturing for you to come closer.

You walk up to him, unsure what to do.

“C’mere, lie down.” He urges quietly, sounding tired. You smile back and climb over him, lying your head on his chest like you’d done before. You melt into him — he’s so warm. So comfortable. He scratches your back gently, and you sigh contentedly, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

You know you should talk. Figure out what all this means. Are you still friends… or something more? And figure out if he actually likes you, because you were always convinced he was straight.

But, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You realize how tired you are, limbs exhausted from swimming all day, every day, since you got here. And you’ve been getting mediocre sleep, just enough to feel like enough. And, well, you just came a few minutes ago. So did Armin. He’s just as tired as you are.

So you won’t talk about it right now. You can talk in the morning when you’re both well-rested and in your right mind. But, for now, you can let your eyes flutter shut, let your muscles relax, and let yourself sink into Armin’s embrace. Just before you fall asleep, you’re sure that you’ll get to have many more nights with Armin like this.

[0kayblue]

Choices

Choices 

A drunken kiss, unspoken feelings, and a nasty argument leaves Leon in a cracked state. Painfully stuck in the crossroads of realization that nothing is going to get better until he starts talking and actively takes the steps to come to terms with his past and his disjointed emotions. 

Word count: Almost 5k (not throughly proof read)

Angst. Language. Gun mentioned. Drinking mentioned. Happy ending. Partners to friends to lovers? The timeline is a little funky so let me explain: the events of Raccoon City take place in 2004 and that places this story towards the start of 2011.

A/N: Long time no see, huh? Things got heavy and they got heavy fast. Between vacation, moving, and the holidays; I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the planet. But it is what it is and I’m back for a minute or two. 

As far as requests are concerned I’m working on them, but I get distracted with other ideas. My google doc is full of rough outlines and unfinished works in progress. I don’t have any idea when things will come out, they just will. I apologize, but damn, life is stressful. 

Anyway, I hope you all are having a lovely day, week, month, and year. Please enjoy!!

“Hey. . .” Leon starts, his voice low and like gravel with uncertainty. A sense of deprecating self-consciousness following in the silence, before he lets out a frustrated huff. “You didn’t pick up, not that I’m surprised. . .but still, it hurts.” He admits as his grip on his phone grows tighter before it loosens and a conflicted sigh leaves him. 

“I’m. . .sorry.” He struggles with the apology as he shuts his eyes and another exasperated sigh leaves him, “Truly, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I shouldn’t have pointed the finger at you. It’s not your fault and it never has been. I need you to know that, I need you to know that I know how I’ve been acting lately is stupid and. . .” He stops as he opens his eyes and looks around the dim space of his empty living room, the loneliness of this moment threatening to swallow him whole. The numbing silence of the room mixed with the silence on the other end of the phone became too much to handle causing him to swallow the confession on the tip of his tongue. 

He licks the dryness from his lips as his other hand goes to massage his forehead in a stiff and irritated manner. He sucks his teeth as his hand falls while he lets out a disheartened sigh as the words fall from his lips, “I can’t do this without you here.” He admits with frustrated sorrow, “I need to see you. I need you to look at me. I need you to. . .I just need you.” 

The static of the other empty line cuts through silence like a rusted combat knife through brittle sheet metal. Leon’s lips part for another sigh to escape him, but it never does. The air stays lodged in his throat before he painfully swallows. 

“Look,” The word came out dry and somewhat short, before he clears his throat. “I’ve got some things I have to deal with, but if you could come over just for a moment—or at least call me back– it doesn’t have to be tonight; but sometime.” He can’t stop it from sounding like a desperate ramble; a plea for your silence to be broken.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it probably won’t be until the early hours of the morning so if you could just at least call me back tonight. Let me know you’re okay. You don’t have to give me any other information and I won’t ask, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He explains softly, biting his tongue to keep himself from making the accusations that scream at him. 

He opens his mouth to say more, to at least say ‘bye’; but he can’t, so he pulls the phone away from his ear and he ends the call. A frustrated grunt leaving him as he peers down at your contact photo, his gaze softening as he studies the smile on your face. The photo one that he cherishes with every heart string he has; a moment he was able to capture without you knowing. The rarity of being able to capture a genuine smile on your face. He recalls the day fondly and for a moment a smile curls at his lips until he eyes glance at the time in the top left corner of the thin device. He locks his phone as he stands from the loveseat you often perched yourself in whenever you were over, the seat cushion practically molded to only sit your frame comfortably. 

Putting the phone in his pocket he makes his way through the kitchen and to the door that leads to the garage; grabbing his car keys from the key hooks by the door and opening the garage door. 

The dark of night not holding its usual tranquility as the earthy smell of the heavy rain floods his nostrils. It’s eerily fitting given his current circumstances and it makes his skin crawl slightly as he gets into the driver seat and starts the car. Putting the car in reverse he backs out of the garage, his ears starting to ring slightly as the quietness of the night floods the car. A slight scoff leaves him as he goes to shut the garage door and he heads north towards his destination. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon drives for hours in silence trying to put his head together. Trying to string together what exactly he wants to say while also remaining focused on the road ahead. All his thoughts scattered and disorganized; any sense of pulling it together immediately wiped out whenever his phone buzzed. A thin line of hope is always shattered when he glances at it and it’s just another notification about god knows what. It didn’t matter and he didn’t care because it was never your name on the screen. 

It felt as if you were playing this silent treatment thing as if your life depended on it and it was killing him. Suffocating him. Each ping brings him above the tidal wave for just a moment before being dragged back under by the force of the freezing crisp waves. He could almost taste the bitter salt water with each defeated sigh of disappointment. 

His glare on the road sharpens as he sees the abandoned gas station, slows, and makes the sharp right turn into the parking lot. The sound of stray gravel gritting against the tread of the tires as the car reaches its destination, Leon on the other hand still has another hour until he reaches his. 

A single unmarked cruiser awaiting him parked perfectly in between two faded and barely visible white lines. He parks his own car a couple spots away from the cruiser before he shuts it off and steps out of the car, grabbing his phone and keys sliding them into his back pocket as he takes calculated steps to the cruiser. The rain only becomes more intense as he tries not to be affected by the cold laced into every drop that hits him, soaking his clothes slightly. 

“Should’ve brought an umbrella.” He mutters to himself as he opens the driver’s side door of the cruiser and gets in. He shakes slightly in an effort to get any excess water off before running a hand through his damp hair, the water slicking it back for just a moment before his bangs fall back into place. 

He leans over the center console and gets into the glove compartment on the passenger’s side. A single car key and a beretta 92fs pistol sit exactly where they were supposed to be. He opts for the cool metal of the hand gun as he picks it up and inspects the weapon briefly, leaving the safety on before he sets it in the passenger seat. He then takes the car key and starts the car, whereas his car was quiet the cruiser engine debates on whether or not to come to life and he almost took it as a sign to give up despite not being a superstitious man; but he digresses as the old cruiser decides that Leon is worth the ride. 

Just as he goes to put the car in reverse his phone pings and he immediately takes his hand from the gear shift and fishes for it with a grunt from his back pocket. A moment of relief leaves him as this time the contact that greets him is yours. Quick to unlock the phone he is greeted with a text of only one word:

 ‘Maybe.’ 

“Maybe?” He grumbles, “What the hell does that even mean?” He asks no one but himself and yet is met with the low rumble of the cruiser’s transmission. Before really thinking he goes and types a reply, staring at the message with a puzzled expression. 

‘Maybe what exactly?’ 

Surprisingly he barely moved before he got a reply.

‘Just maybe.’

He takes in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky manner. Stubborn, you were always so stubborn. Of course he was too, but he was the one actively trying not to be this time. He was the one trying to get you to open up and not the other way around. Trying to get you to communicate with him, trying to get you to be vulnerable with him, trying to repair the rift between the two of you.

‘Can I get more than maybe?’

‘Please.’ 

He knows it’s his fault. He understands that regardless of how you left he still hurt you and you still had every right to be upset with him. Neither of you made anything official, never committed to anything, and he was a fool to think that a drunk kiss meant that his feelings were reciprocated and defined you both as an unit. He should have known that your avoidance of him the next day meant that something was off, but he convinced himself that you understood everything. That you knew everything he’s wanted to say for months. So, when he was informed of you being around someone who clearly was no good for you; he snapped.

‘I’ll be by.’

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A crumb that would subside the ache he felt. He lets out a sigh of relief as a small and soft smile finds his face. It was confirmation to him that he hasn’t lost you completely. He hadn’t lost you. 

‘When?’ 

‘Tonight. Please.’

He stares at the screen waiting for a reply he doubts he will get; so he isn’t surprised as agonizing seconds turn into minutes. Glancing at the time he knows he needs to move, and he will. Just a minute more. 

A minute passes, then two, and still no reply. He runs a hand through his hair before it finds the steering wheel, gripping it with force. Trying to let out some of the agitation he felt in the least harmful way possible. He tosses the phone into the passenger seat before taking his leave. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon pulls up to the agreed upon meeting spot, the headlights of the cruiser reflecting off of the multiple ‘WARNING’ and ‘DANGER’ signs. All signs informing the public to stay clear of the abandoned wreckage that was the nightmare that started his adult life. 

He clenched his teeth as he parks the cruiser and before killing the engine he scrutinizes the rusted, faded, and graffitied sign that read: 

‘Welcome to Raccoon City

Home of Umbrella’

He can’t help the cold unforgiving glare that hardens his features as he stares intensely at that damn sign. A sign that he once was looking forward to seeing, a sign that was supposed to harken in a new beginning for him. A chapter of his life that he never got to write the way he intended too. 

He forces himself to look away as he kills the engine. All that anger and contempt in every movement he makes; the emotions barely subtle as he grabs the pistol and makes his leave from the cruiser. Uncleaned debris crunching under the harsh step of his sturdy weight. The former storm subsided to a gentle drizzle. As if the weather was deciding to be gentle towards him, to be kind as he faced the location of so much of his trauma. Dulled screams and flashbacks of all the things he saw that night flashing throughout every corner of his brain. He grits his teeth as he slams the door of the cruiser shut, the heavy bang ceasing the noise. The memories. 

He keeps his focus trained ahead as he strides closer to the steel chain fencing with sturdy steps, the dim yellow light from aged street lights illuminating his path with a dull hum. Unclenching his jaw he puts the pistol into the tight waistband of his jeans as he starts to climb the rusted fence that murmurs whines underneath the weight of his body. 

Getting to the top he throws one leg over before deciding to make the jump to the other side. A grunt leaves him as the soles of his shoes make contact with the pitch black pavement, a sharp yet brief pain shooting up his legs. Standing up straight he pulls the pistol from his waistband, shuts the safety off, and proceeds forward. Acutely aware of his surroundings as his stomach starts to turn and bile threatens to creep up his throat. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to travel far as the person he is set to meet waits in the shadows, the click of her heels against the damp pavement making Leon fully aware of her presence as he points the gun at her out of fear. It isn’t until she steps closer that he lowers his weapon. 

“Leon.” Ada says as she looks at him intently. Giving him a once over before she speaks again, “Someone is jumpy, I see.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s the location.” Leon says as he stands up straight, his shoulders remaining tense. Ada nods in a sense of understanding. 

“You went through it to track me down and I’ll admit I’m impressed; but I have to ask: why?” Ada’s voice is smooth and low, clearly guarded. 

“There’s something I have to talk to you about. Something I need to address.” He admits. 

Ada studies him, the tension he carries nearly slapping her across the face; and she knows all the blame can’t just be put on the location. The rubble on the street is a physical representation of the crumbs of trust that was shared between the two of them. 

“So, then why go through the trouble?” She inquires, her brow raising slightly, “I’m certain whatever it is you are here to-.” 

“No, I need you to hear what I have to say.” He says cutting her off. Clearly uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and direct with her; this whole situation reeking of a rotten smell that they could practically taste. 

“Different.” She simply states, very different from their previous meeting six months prior in the rural misty mountainous region of Spain. A change that was lost on her is now clearly present. It’s rough, jagged; and not something she is used to when it comes to him. 

The two stare at each other in silence, trying to piece each other together. A clear lack of communication ringing out into the night, something that wasn’t uncommon between the two. 

“Do you-.” Leon starts but suddenly stops the question in its tracks. He knew the answer and it was pointless to even ask; so he opts for the next question, “Why didn’t you try and reach out?” 

The question takes Ada aback and it shows physically as her eyes widen just slightly before returning to that uncaring gaze. She ponders on how to approach this. On what to say. Coming up short she decides not to say anything regarding the subject; so she changes it. 

“Is this about them?” She asks and immediately Leon plants his feet. Knowing that her them meant you; and the feeling didn’t settle well in his bones. His teeth gritted together as his jaw locked. Yet, the fact of the matter remained: she was partly right. 

“It is, isn’t it.” Ada states as she crosses her arms, a sense of pride finding her as she figured him out so quickly. 

“And if it is?” Leon asks, hoping in vain to throw her off the scent by playing this with a harsh coyness. 

“You’re still hung up over a kiss?” Ada asks, the question slipping from her lips without thinking. A rarity from her, so much so that it takes her aback as the harshness of her words hits Leon with a pang of disappointment. 

“That’s not what I’m hung up on.” Leon answers, bitterness clinging to each word, “I’m hung up on the fact that after everything I—everything we—went through you didn’t even try to tell me you survived that fall. That you survived and you didn’t bother to at least leave me something to show you were still alive; and don’t even try and say you couldn’t find me. You could have. Easily.” His voice grew stronger with every word he spoke, his conflicting emotions present in each syllable. 

Ada is stunned by his candor, the hurt that she caused him present leaving her baffled and grasping for straws. He was being raw here, he was showing her his cards that he held so tightly to his chest. 

“That night was the ending to so much. That night—to me— was an unimaginable horror I was not prepared to face; and you…you were right there. You knew so much more than I did and you remained cryptic.” Leon states with a defeated and heavy breath, “It’s easy to direct my anger there; but I know that’s not where it belongs. That isn’t where my heart places it, even though it probably should be because you played it like a fiddle; but that’s not it. Not the way you used me. Manipulated me. What it is in all honesty is the fact that I couldn’t save you. That you slipped from my grip, but yet you still cling to me.” 

Silence falls between the two again, but this time it’s different. It’s not a burden even though it remains heavy.  

“So you tracked me down to tell me this?” 

“I tracked you down so you can let me go.”

The statement left Leon in one breath as he looked at her with a softness to his eyes. A vulnerability in his gaze that swallowed Ada whole. The lack of light behind his eyes shadowing her in a darkness she never expected to feel from him. Her own emotions are becoming hard to keep in check, as her insides start to simmer with an almost forgotten feeling. 

The silence clings to their clothes as the night time air becomes lodged in Leon’s throat. Nearly choking him as he examined Ada intently, trying to guess her next move. Trying to put himself in her shoes long enough to figure out what she might be thinking; but all of this was so foreign. So he retreated back into his own head and just decided it was best to let her move from here. He decided it was best to just stop; and that decision flooded his body with relief. His jaw relaxing, his shoulder falling slightly, his knees no longer locked; the utter relief he felt just voicing how he felt was something he least expected.

“Okay.” Ada said, breaking the silence. This newfound development changed something in her that she couldn’t pinpoint. Something half of her refused to pinpoint. This growth she sees from him changes her perception of him. 

“Okay.” Leon repeats with a small nod as the subtle rain drops that have been hitting him start to increase. They stand in a tense awkward silence as the wind starts to pick up and begin to howl a broken howl that wavered like a gasped sob. Leon turns to leave before the rain starts to heavily pour again, but the question that falls from Ada causes him to stop. 

“Are you doing this all for them?” She asks, crossing her arms. While Leon looks at her with confliction, still not pleased with her need to keep you in the conversation. 

“Not completely.” He answers; and that is the truth. He needed this for himself, he knew that; but it would be a lie if you didn’t inspire him to take the leap. That you didn’t assure him that he didn’t have to constantly be fighting this inner turmoil, that he could form some type of peace with it; and most importantly that he didn’t have to do it alone. He deserved to care for himself, something he never considered until he felt the gentle warmth of your care. 

“I’d prefer if you would leave them out of it.” Leon says, a protective pitch in his tone that packed a subtle bite. It didn’t catch her off guard, it was him she was dealing with; and she knew that regardless of the strengths she had briefly seen from you in Spain that Leon would still be protective of you. 

So, Ada just nods, turns, and takes her leave,“Goodbye, Leon.” Ada says as Leon watches her walk back towards what he assumed was her entry point was located. 

As her form disappears into the black of night Leon lets out a deep breath with a slight shake of his head; his limbs heavy from the strain of the stress he carried in them.

“Goodbye, Ada.” 

———————————————————--------------------------

It was nearly four in the morning when Leon pulled into his garage. Your vehicle was nowhere in his line of sight as he pulled up to his house. Not that he was surprised, your answer was just a maybe, and he didn’t want you to push yourself out of the realms of something you weren’t comfortable doing just yet. At least he let you know that you weren’t ignoring him completely and that was enough for the time being. 

He shuts off the car as an exhausted sigh leaves him while his hand runs down his face. His head starts to gently pound as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The emotional rollercoaster he has been on starts to churn his stomach, reminding him why he didn’t bother with this stuff for so long in the first place. It hurt. Everywhere. 

He closes the garage as he gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Placing his keys back on the hook, kicking off his shoes, and starting to remove his jacket he stops as he hears the muffled sound of a sitcom laugh track coming from the living room. His chest swells with hope as he quickly disregards his jacket and shoes and with large gentle strides he makes his way into the living room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you asleep on the couch. 

Stopping in his tracks he watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, you were completely and utterly lost in what he hoped was a peaceful slumber. Your arms tucked close to your chest. Your hair fanned out over the couch cushion and the arm of the couch. He fought back how he wanted to run his hand through your hair. How tempting it looked, how he knew nothing brought you more comfort than the feeling of gentle fingers working their way through your hair. He wanted to do that for you, he wanted to comfort you. He wants to give you whatever your heart desires. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he carefully sits on the edge of one of the couch cushions. His heart swells with so much love that it is overwhelming and for the first time within all of this his eyes start to glass over. Tears threatening to spill as a shaky hand slowly makes contact with the warmth of your scalp. His fingers intertwined with your hair as his thumb gingerly brushes the top of your head and a small breath of relief leaves him as he watches your body relax. He stifled a sob with a scoff as a smile found his face while he fixed his gaze on you. The person he holds the most dear. The person he would do whatever it took to just have by his side. 

A craving to show you the utmost love and affection, a craving to care for you so much deeper than what the two of you already had. He hoped with everything that you wanted more. That the ghost of your past hadn’t swallowed you up. That you would choose him. 

He finally sniffs, the sound of distress pulling you from sleep as your eyes open and find his piercing blue ones glassy with tears. You move to sit up as even in your groggy state your arms wrap around him to comfort him.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You coo as your torso presses against him while one hand rubs his back and the other makes its way into his hair as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay.” You soothe while Leon takes in a strangled breath his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap. 

“You came.” He utters, his voice breaking slightly. 

“You called.” You answer softly. 

Leon’s grip on you tightens as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, fresh hot thick tears starting to roll down his face. You gently mumble sweet reassurances as you rub his back, allowing him to cry, allowing him to let go of all the shit he has been holding onto. The fight. The end. The struggle. He’s letting go of all of it as he keeps a firm hold on you, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything and I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for- for being with them. I- I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have told you how I felt. I should have-.” He chokes out his apology, the saltiness of his tears finding the pallet of his tongue.

“Shh, Leon, it’s okay.” You coo rubbing his back, “Don’t force yourself to speak when you aren’t ready. Take your time.” He fists the soft fabric of your shirt as he wonders what he ever did to know the comfort of your patience. 

As Leon begins to calm down his grip on you loosens, his breathing returning to normal as his chest no longer hitches with quiet sobs. You feel him start to relax and in turn your body loses its own stiffness. You continue to hold him to you, trailing the tips of your nails gingerly up and down a patch of his back. You had no idea where Leon had been, but whatever he did has obviously left him worse for wear. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask in a quiet whisper, concern ever present in your soft voice; and Leon can’t help himself.

“I love you.” He responds as he places a strong hand in between your shoulder blades keeping you pressed against him as he screws his eyes shut trying to commit this moment to memory. The feeling of your body pressed flush against his, the addictive pleasant scent of your perfume, the soft gentle flesh of your neck pressed against the scratch of his stubble. 

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have talked to you directly. I should have seen everything.” He says as he regretfully pries himself away from you to look at you fully, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and hold your face gently in the palms of his hands. He watches the gears in your head start to turn through sparkling big doe eyes and his heart starts to melt. The realization that he wasn’t the only one that needed improvements becoming ever present as he brushes the side of his thumb over your cheek. 

“I love you and I am unbelievably sorry. Please, please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads as he studies your face, noting the way your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. 

You both sit there in silence as he admires the sad beauty that are your features in this moment. He allows you to just sit there and feel, and think, and breathe. With all the patience in the world he waits for you. 

“I love you too.” You finally say quietly, the words falling from your lips in a hesitancy before you speak up again; but with more strength and convection, “I love you too.” 

A soft wide smile finds Leon’s face as he brings your lips to his in a soft, but desperate and passionate kiss. The taste of your lips are so much sweeter without the bitter taste of alcohol on them. Your arms snaking their way around his neck as you kiss him back the way you wanted to the first time he kissed you. His hands move to your waist to pull you closer to him as his tongue ghosts over your bottom lip. 

You part your lips allowing him access to explore the warmth of your mouth while crooking your head to the side as his tongue makes its way into your mouth. His tongue runs briefly over your teeth before it coils with your own and he sucks slightly causing a deep moan to reverberate from your chest and up your throat. 

The sound causes a smirk to curl at the corner of his lips as he parts from you regardless of how badly he wants to continue. He couldn’t help it, he had to see you; and the sight was worth it. The blissful peace on your face as you opened your eyes to look at him was worth it. A smile plastered on his face as he noted the tiredness in your eyes, the slight bags underneath them, and his hand finds your cheek as he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“Let's save the rest for tomorrow, okay? Let’s get you to bed.” He says as he moves to pick you up bridal style. He stands from the couch as your grip around him tightens as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“Leon.” You scold him slightly, but with no real seriousness to it. 

“Tomorrow.” He assures with a little nod, a playful smirk on his face. 

“Tomorrow.” You repeat with a little roll to your eyes.

[tartarusknight]

The King of the Freaks | Pt 4

(Yes I am too lazy to keep writing that long title so it’s been changed from now on...)

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Eddie was kinda pissed as he stabbed at the food on his tray. "You sure they said we can't?" Gareth question, and he sounded just as Eddie felt.

"They said that we couldn't do this week," Eddie said again, and he glanced up as Steve moved to sit down next to Jeff. He was pulling something out of his backpack and it was the first time since that first time that Steve actually sat with them.

"What can't you guys do?" Steve questioned as he pulled out a container of cookies and slid them over to Jeff.

Jeff lit up even as the others looked confused. "We can't do Hellfire this week. Apparently, the drama club needs the drama room this week." Jeff explains, and Steve pauses.

His face makes a hundred micro expressions before he shrugs, "You could do it at my house. I don't really care." Steve states and moves to stand back up hit Jeff pulls him back down. "Uh, what?"

He looks confused, and it's unfair because it seems like the moment they should be confused. "Three questions. First I thought you had swimming? Second, why would you let us do it at your house? Most parents think we are a cult, and I doubt your parents would think differently. And lastly, what's up with the cookies?"

Steve looks a little embarrassed as he's forced to stay there. But he meets Eddie's gaze. "First, I do have swimming, but I don't care. Come over that night or another if you really care. Second, my parents are in either Beijing or Belgium right now, so they don't get an opinion. And the cookies are for Jeff because he helped me last weekend. He can share, or he doesn't have to, I don't care."

Eddie blinks, "you'd let us be at your house without you there?"

"Sure, why not. I doubt you'll trash the entire place. And even if you do, there's not much you could do I haven't seen before. I've had enough parties to get good at cleaning up." Steve states, and Eddie looks at the others, trying to see if they're just as confused.

"That's amazing, dude! How about we get pizza, since you'll host?" Jeff offers, and Steve gives them a tight smile. Eddie's not sure if it's because of the topic of food or the idea that they're going to take him up on the offer. 

Steve nods and it’s a little sharp, “Right. Yeah just let me know date and time.” He pauses and goes back to his bag. He pauses before he can pull whatever he’s grabbed before steeling himself. “Here, just in case I’m busy.” He drops a key onto the table and practically bolts from the table. 

Eddie waits for him to come back and take the key with a sike. But he doesn’t, instead Eddie sees him dodge Billy’s foot and escape out of the lunch room. “Here I thought we were adopting him.” Gareth mused and picked up the key. Jeff smacked him and took the key. “Hey!” Gareth complains. 

“Yeah, I’ve actually been to his house so...” Jeff points out.

That gets Eddie back up and moving, “yeah. About that, what the hell?”

Jeff laughs, “I helped him cook. He’s been struggling with meet lately and you know my sister.” Eddie nods because it does make sense but at the same time it makes zero sense. “I bumped into him at the store...” Jeff trails off, “I think we need to try harder.”

“Harder?” Eddie squeaked and his friends gave him a look that he really wished he didn’t know. 

Jeff doesn’t let that stop him though. “Well, I thought it was bad enough going from top dog to the new top dog’s chew toy but the guy is struggling. He only had condiments in his fridge even though he told me he was a good cook, which he is. Apparently he has no clue where his parents are at the moment. He had a guess but that was it. And! He has no clue when they’re coming back. I asked and he laughed it off saying maybe for Christmas. Christmas.”

“It’s not even Thanksgiving yet!” Grant states and Jeff nods. 

Gareth sighs, “I’ve been bothering him during my free period. Normally just working on shit next to him... but the dude is not okay. He squints when he reads like he can’t see it well. I’m pretty sure he’s been getting migraines since he fought with Billy. And I’m 80% sure he’s partially deaf in his left ear. Cause if I whisper on that side he never responds. But he will when I sit on his right.”

“He never eats lunch,” Eddie sighs. “He always tears his food apart to make it look like he’s eating. If his fridge is empty than he might not be eating that often.”

“Well shit,” Grant sighs. “But how do we help him without it being weird.”

Eddie presses his hands together under his chin to think. “Okay, so we stop with the subtle friendship and go for it. If we’re his best friends then maybe he’ll let us help him.”

“So operation make Steve Harrington friendship bracelets is ago.” Gareth grins and Jeff throws a grape at him. 

They already had access to the boy’s house. How hard could it be?

@zerokrox-bloglog @cyranyxx @adaed5 @the-redthreadd @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaringceyoustopcaring @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshitorthisshit @failedstarsandgoldencloudsds @bisexualdisastersworldd @deadlydodoss @anythingyouwanttobee @nburkhardtt @bestwifehaverr @thehumblefigtreee @megzdoodlee @swimmingbirdrunningrockk @mightbeasleepp @bxlthazarar @autumnal-dawnn @chillichatss @nonbinary-eddie-munsonon @the-daydreamer-in-the-cornerner @eddie-munson-is-my-wifewife @a-little-unsteddiedie @sharingisntkaren @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @0o-queendean-o0 @beckkthewreck @vi-an-te @vampireinthesun @newtstabber @dinosareawesome2137  @spicemallow @hellomynameismoo  @luthienstormblessed @briceslayed @angeldreamsoffanfic @dbquills

[onegianthotmess]

Jack Howl is a Hufflepuff-

Despite being a tsundere, he checks all of the boxes for getting into Hufflepuff.

Jack is an incredibly hard worker and doesn’t half ass work of any kind, always remaining dedicated to the task at hand in order to achieve his goal or the final product of what he’s doing and he is never afraid to learn a new skill or new way of doing things or how to make things easier for himself.

Jack also has a strong sense of justice and fairness, believing in pack mentality and the social chain of command and refusing to disrupt it, instead he pours himself into helping the second in command, Ruggie, in order to feel useful and because he sees no one helping him or his siblings much outside of the odd thing that they ask once in a while. He’s also a man of his word and doesn’t like being in debt, being very willing to repay Jade in a way for unknowingly ruining some mushrooms he was growing and being on time for his shifts at the Monstro Lounge during that week of paying back for what he did. And he has always said that fairness is one of the most important things or implied it many times throughout the game.

Jack is also quite patient, despite being rough around the edges. He will sit through Sebek’s nonsense, patiently tell Deuce about proper eating and exercising/workout routines, and is willing to hear people out whenever they say they’re concerned about something. And tying back into his hard working attitude, Jack has the patience to learn new skills without much fuss and will always take advice if it’s generally a good idea and his instincts don’t lurch him away from just the mention of it.

Though this is a given since he’s a wolf, Jack is incredibly loyal to an almost unbelievable standard. He is loyal to helping his friends, to those he deems family, to keeping his word, to helping the Bucchi Triplets as much as he can, and to his pack and his place in that pack. His loyalty has never once faltered and he will not give up on anyone or leave their side. Jack has always been helpful and not once has he given up on someone he cares about at NRC.

And last, but certainly not least, Jack is incredibly kind and reliable. As I’ve stated before, Jack is a man of his word, incredibly loyal, and will do anything within reason to pay someone back if he’s wronged them. He’s also very willing to help anyone in need and will do so swiftly and dutifully, always happy to help.

Jack is also a plant mom-

And it’s for these reasons that Jack Howl would be sorted into Hufflepuff by the Sorting Hat!

He’d definitely be on the Quidditch team, most likely as a Beater thanks to his build and upper arm strength. His best subjects would be Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts, maybe he’d be decent at Transfiguration, and he’d likely struggle in Charms purely due to pronunciation and History of Magic because he isn’t a history kind of guy.

Jack would probably end up being pretty well-known in the history of Hogwarts Quidditch as one of the best Beaters Hufflepuff and Hogwarts as a whole have ever seen.

Also, I had fun with this! I’ll probably do another one of these soon!

[ladykailitha]

Little Runaway Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Steve was still asleep when Eddie got home. Or at least back to sleep. He sat down on the bed next to him and gently shook his shoulder.

“Hey man, wake up,” he said. “You need to eat too.”

Steve stirred and looked up at him bleary eyed. “What time is it?”

“After eight.”

Steve struggled to sit up as he rubbed his eyes. “AM?”

“PM,” Eddie replied.

Steve bolted upright. “The fuck?”

“Did you not wake up before now?” Eddie frowned. “You must have been running on empty to sleep that long.”

Steve buried his head in hands. “I’ve just been napping when I can because I can’t have a cop or someone I know spotting me and it getting back to my dad.”

“Come on,” he said. “Food first. And then you are going to tell me everything if you want to stay one more night. Because there is something you aren’t telling me. Because your dad is hunting you. And those ribs tell me a story that’s deeper than you two got into it.”

Steve ran his fingers over his mouth and gasped. “Yeah. I owe that much.”

Eddie helped him to his feet and was pleased to note that Steve barely winced.

Steve sat on the sofa while Eddie cooked them up something to eat. Eddie brought another bowl of Spaghetti-Os and handed it to him. They ate in silence.

Once Eddie had set the bowls in the sink, he stood in front of Steve and folded his arms.

“All right, Harrington, talk.”

“My parents are never home,” Steve began. “Like ever. It’s how I got away with all the parties and the booze and weed. Not like my dad cared. Even if there was no sign of any of that in the house, I would still get accused of the worst shit imaginable. The things kids say about you in the halls at school? Ain’t got nothing on what my dad says to my face. Usually with a belt. But sometimes his fists.”

“Holy shit, how do people not notice?” Eddie asked. “You take showers after PE and practices for swim and basketball? How the hell did no one notice?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “No one cared, man. Boys will be boys. And like I said he wasn’t home a lot. So the beatings were far enough apart no one made the connection that I would only get bruised up when my parents were home.”

“That’s messed up, Steve,” Eddie said.

He shrugged. “Anyway so he comes home and he finds this magazine that one of the kids left over. On D&D. And he starts flipping out about Satanic panic and how I was going to burn in hell.”

“You don’t play D&D,” Eddie pointed out dumbly, trying to make sense of it all.

“Nope. Even pointed out that the name and address on the magazine weren’t mine,” Steve said, scoffing. “But he wasn’t having it. As usual.”

“And he started hitting you over that?” Eddie asked.

“Ah, well...” Steve said. “You see I may have told him that if I was going to hell for anything, it’s wasn’t going to be for D&D.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What did you tell him?”

Steve licked his lips and bit the bottom one. “I may have told him that I liked boys.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and he leaned forward a little. “Come again?”

Steve looked down at his clenched hands. “It wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“Is it true?” Eddie slammed a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, man. It’s fine. And yeah, it’s true. So anyway, he pushed me, I broke his nose, he beat the shit of me, I managed to crawl away while he was looking for his belt.”

“He wasn’t wearing one?” Eddie asked. Stupid questions were just becoming his forte today.

“He had been exercising or something because he was in sweats,” Steve said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he wasn’t wearing it. And my mom convinced him to go the doctor for his nose. While they were gone, I packed up all my things and piled it all in my car and ran away.”

“Holy fuck,” Eddie said sitting down next to Steve on the sofa. “But that doesn’t explain why he’s still looking for you a week later. I get trying to come for a couple days after but still, after a week?”

Steve got up and grabbed his bag. He brought it back over to the sofa. He opened it up and dumped the contents on the floor. Eddie frowned and picked up one of the photos.

“What’s all this?” Eddie asked.

“All the evidence my mom has compiled over the years about my dad’s many affairs.”

“And he wants this back?”

“Yup!” Steve said. He began shoving the pictures back in his bag when the door to the trailer banged open.

“Wayne!” Eddie exclaimed surprised. “I thought you weren’t coming back until Monday.”

Wayne huffed. “We got rained out. From the moment we got there it started and refused to stop. So we packed up and headed home.”

Eddie was on his feet, trying to come up with a reason Steve Harrington was on their sofa, but all he could do was move his mouth up and down.

“Who we got here?” Wayne asked.

Steve looked up and Wayne gasped. He turned to Eddie. “What did I tell you about picking up strays and bringing them home?”

Eddie scoffed. “This one was dropped off on the doorstep.”

Steve kept looking back and forth between them like a fucking tennis match.

“Who did that to your face, son?” Wayne asked, turning to Steve.

“Well, Mr Munson, as I was telling your nephew, my dad took a disliking to it when I came out as liking men,” Steve murmured.

“You like Eddie then, gay?” Wayne asked, jutting his head toward his nephew.

Steve looked up at Eddie in shock.

“What you think your friends were just tossing that around for fun?” Eddie bit out.

Steve shrugged. “I did.”

“Was that before or after you realized you liked guys?” Eddie snapped.

“Hey! I didn’t say that it was right,” Steve bit out. “I just said that I’ve used it as insult before. And yeah it was after. Yeah, I know that makes me a hypocrite or whatever. But I’ve been through shit you don’t even know and I have tried to be a better person. But whatever you may think, I didn’t deserve this!” He pointed at his eye.

“Whoa, whoa,” Wayne said. “Everyone just calm down. I didn’t mean to out ya, Eddie. I thought he knew with him being here and all.”

Eddie and Steve looked down at the floor and then at each other guiltily.

“Let’s just take it one step at a time,” Wayne said. He pulled up a chair sat down in front of them. Eddie sat down next to Steve.

Eddie tried to ignore the butterflies when Steve murmured his apologies.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” he said.

“Great,” Wayne said. “Now that we have the apologies out of the way. Are you gay?”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. But, um...I’ve known for a while what I was.”

“So how did Clint find out?” Wayne asked.

Steve frowned. He rarely heard anyone call his dad anything but Mr Harrington. “We had an argument where he said was going to hell for playing D&D and I told him that I wouldn’t because I don’t play.”

“But that you’d go to hell for liking boys?” Wayne supposed.

“Yes, sir,” Steve said.

“And you’re lying low here, why?”

Steve explained everything a second time and how he was on the run because he had something his dad wanted back.

“I’ll be taking that,” Wayne said, reaching his hand out for the bag.

“But, sir…” Steve said.

“I’ll keep it safe for you, in case you run into him again, you can honestly say you don’t have it anymore.”

The tension in Steve’s shoulders melted as he handed it over to him.

“Who knows you’re here?” Wayne asked.

“Just you two and Dustin Henderson,” Steve muttered.

“Good,” Wayne said. “I’m going to add just one more person, if that’s okay with you.”

Steve looked petrified. “I don’t know about that, sir. I don’t want anyone getting hurt if my dad comes after them.”

Eddie’s heart clenched. Okay, maybe Steve had changed. His first worry was someone else getting hurt. The Steve he knew would have thrown them under the bus if meant he got out of trouble.

“I’m pretty sure Jim Hopper can take care of himself,” Wayne said with a wink.

Steve visibly relaxed again. “Yeah, okay. But maybe have us meet elsewhere. I‒”

“You worried about your dad following you back here?” Eddie asked.

Steve looked down at his hands. “Maybe I should just go.”

“Go where, son?” Wayne asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve whined, “but I don’t want people getting hurt, not for me, not because I’m coward.”

Wayne and Eddie looked over at each other and come to a silent agreement. Steve was staying with them permanently.

“Running away from a bigger threat that you can’t beat isn’t cowardice,” Wayne said gently. “It’s smart.”

“You wouldn’t throw a level one character at a challenge rated monster of 10,” Eddie said, agreeing.

“I don’t know what you just said,” Steve said helplessly.

“Challenge rating is how badass the monster is. The higher the number the deadlier it is. And is based on a party of four adventurers. So what I’m saying is one level one dude is going get punted by a CR 10.”

“Bad?” Steve asked, not quite sure he got the reference.

“Very bad,” Eddie confirmed. “So we’re going to form a party. So far you’ve got me and Wayne, and if Hopper is cool, him, too. You’ve got people who are willing to go to bat for you, let them.”

“But you don’t know me,” Steve said, voice cracking from the emotion.

“No,” Wayne agreed. “But I know Clint and I can tell from just five minutes with ya that you aren’t anything like him.”

Steve shook his head.

“Boy, you just tried to protect two fully grown men twice your age without a second thought,” Wayne growled. “Clint would have thrown us under the bus and found a way to make himself out to be the martyr.”

“Besides,” Eddie said, bumping Steve’s shoulder, “Dustin loves you and he would kick my ass if I let anything happen to you.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, okay. But only because I don’t want to see you get your ass kicked by a fifteen year old.”

Wayne laughed. “I’m going to have to meet this Dustin kid.”

Eddie blushed.

Steve stared at the blush with open mouthed wonder and Wayne just shook his head.

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Tag List: @homohomohoe

[dark-frosted-heart]

I Want to Know Every Inch of You - Roger Barel

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Roger: Oh, you already collected quite a bit.

Kate: All that’s left is you, Roger.

I show Roger the data I collected for Crown’s measurements.The other day, Victor asked me to go to everyone and I’ve been getting to them one after another.

Roger: It’s pretty detailed. It’ll be useful for researching curses. 

Satisfied with the documents, Roger pats my head.

Roger: Well then, let’s get to my measurements.

Kate: Right. Now if you’ll excuse me.

I place the measuring tape against Roger when he removes his vest.

Roger: Oh? You’re pretty good at that.

Kate: I’ve been measuring the others so I’ve got experience.

(Anyway…Roger’s really muscular)

I was aware of his physique before he removed his vest, but it’s even more noticeable when he’s lightly dressed. Not just his abs, but his neck, shoulders, and back muscles are well-defined too.

(When do you use these muscles…)

I manage to finish taking his measurements despite being distracted by his burliness.

Kate: Next up is asking about your medical history. How much do you drink in a week?

Roger: Hmm…About this much?

Roger took a pen and filled in his response.

Kate: That much in a week?! Feels like a lot…

Roger: They say that good wine makes good blood, you know?

Kate: Only when it’s in moderation though? Sigh, next…the amount of sleep you get.

Roger: Sometimes emergencies come up or I have an assignment for Crown. And when I’m doing research, I don’t wanna interrupt it by sleeping. Well…You can say I sleep when I can.

Kate: …

Roger: You look like you got something to say but don’t wanna say it. 

Kate: I’d like you to go to bed at a reasonable hour and get a good night’s sleep. But… I know that everything you do’s important. So I can’t scold you for it.

Roger: Is that so…

Kate: But, physician, heal thyself…So please take care of your health as much as possible, okay? Please be especially careful not to drink too much. If you don’t take care of your body, you’ll get weaker and weaker.

Roger: I’ll get weaker, huh?...How ‘bout we measure that too?

Kate: Measure what- Eep! Suddenly, an arm wraps under my butt and lifts me up with ease.

(Ah, so that’s when he uses those muscles…Wait, that’s not what I meant)

Kate: W-what are you doing! Put me down!

Even when I kick my feet, they don’t touch the ground and all I hit is air.

Roger: Hey now, stop struggling. Want me to drop you? Since you were worried, I thought I’d test my strength.

Roger casually walks around the infirmary with me on his arm.

Kate: …

Afraid of falling, I wrapped my arms around Roger’s neck and he laughed in amusement.

Roger: Not bad with one woman. Well…should I test lung capacity next?

Roger lowers me down on a bed and then pushes me back. 

Roger: No breathing through the nose…

Kate: Nn…

Our lips meet and he kisses me deeply. 

(Definitely a weird way to measure!)

Kate: Mmph…Nnnn

I slapped his chest in an attempt to resist, but he wouldn't budge.Rather, the grip on my shoulders tightened, as if chiding me for my actions.

Kate: …~~!

When I finally started to have trouble breathing, I glared at Roger. There was amusement in his eyes behind those glasses and our lips finally parted. 

Roger: Giving up? Wouldn’t it be better if you strengthened yourself instead of worrying ‘bout me?  

Kate: It doesn’t make sense to measure lung capacity in such a strange way.

Roger: I think it’s standard. Now then, let’s finally measure endurance. 

Kate: Endurance…

Roger: We can use how many times we go at it to measure. Don’t think it’ll be too accurate though since you’ll probably get worn out before me.

Roger lifts one of my legs and sets it on his shoulder.I knew what he was getting at without having to ask.

Roger: So, what do you wanna do?

I couldn’t break eye contact from Roger who was like a predator before his prey.

Kate: I’m just worried about you, Roger…

Roger: So why don’t we just check whether I’m healthy or not using your body? I’m curious about you too.

After that, Roger brings my leg to his lips.

Kate: W-what…

Roger: Hm? Just a taste.

Roger’s tongue glides along the skin of my inner thigh.

Kate: Ah…

It tickles, but I also feel heat build up in my lower abdomen. It was like my body was anticipating the stimulation.

Roger: Done resisting? Then I’ll keep going.

Kate: …I surrender! I know now. We don’t need to question your stamina…

Roger: Haha! You’re so honest.

While laughing happily, Roger finally lowers my leg onto the bed.

(Phew, that was close…)

Roger: You can take my booze away when you eat with me, and manage my sleep schedule by sleeping with me. If you’re worried about my body, then keep an eye on me 24/7. 

Kate: I’m good! You’re a grown man, so please take care of yourself. 

Roger: Haha. You’re no fun.

(It’s so frustrating how Roger teases me all the time) (But what’s worse is that…Roger only does that to me)

[kasienda]

Fanfiction Year in Review 2023

I fill this out every year. It’s become a bit of a tradition for me. Allows me to reflect on everything that I’ve written and kinda think about where I want to go next. And I like it better from the ask games because I don’t have to wait for asks to come in and can compare my answers from one year to the next. ^_^

1 List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

Displaced (Ladrien oneshot)

No Regrets (Ladynoir oneshot - smut)

You Don’t Have To Pretend With Me (Platonic Adrino oneshot)

Representation Reveal (S5 Adrinette oneshot)

Kisses in the Rain (S5 AU Love Square - technically multichapter, but it’s shorter than many of my one-shots)

Would Trust You With Everything (Adrino multichapter)

Just An Ordinary Girl (Marichat oneshot)

Love Remains (Ladynoir multichapter)

Spin the Bottle (OT4 with cour four - technically oneshot, but it’s longer than Kisses and has more kisses in it. Haha!)

2 Number of words written: 

Written: 166,114 words

Published: 151,018 words (more than twice 2022’s number!! Go me!!) 

Those numbers are incredibly close together because I haven’t been redrafting as much. Those numbers include six one shots, three completed multi chapters. And another four multi chapter WIPs saw at least one update.

And in another fun milestone! I broke a million words published on Ao3 just this last week!! (I've been writing fic since 2003 and everything I've ever written is on Ao3!)

3 Your most popular fic:

Not Part of the Plan - I suspect that this is mostly because being a teen pregnancy fic, it’s my most tropiest story this year. Haha! 

4 Your personal fav:

Aftermath - This story has usurped Right Behind You as my favorite. I’ve been able to connect to the raw hurt and grief in this story, and there’s something very raw and human about it that others seem to be able to connect to as well. I think it’s some of my best work, and that is also thanks to an amazing beta in @ladyofthenoodle who has lent her expertise in more than one way in making this one more true to lived experience. 

5 Your fav scene:

It’s so hard to pick a favorite!! I narrowed it down to my three favorites in no particular order. 

The last scene in Ch 5 Love Remains - Chat Noir give amnesiac Ladybug a geography lesson from space. It’s got Whole New World vibes, and I just loved the imagery of it.

Ch 4 of Aftermath - I’m particularly proud of Marinette’s panic attack when Adrien tells her she doesn’t have to keep coming over. Like it feels like it comes out of nowhere, but it just totally makes sense. And how it manifests and how she soothes herself (it’s not healthy, but it’s so GOOD!)

Ch 7 of Would Trust You With Everything - The scene where Chat Noir tries to tell Nino who he is, but inevitably doesn’t. And how Nino reassures him through all that. This scene feels so raw, but so heartwarming in light of Adrien’s fears. And I don’t know - it’s beautiful to me.

6 A fic or scene that challenged you:

I really struggled with Right Behind You this year, though it wasn’t for lack of trying! I had started out the year hoping to go back to an update a month here and I only updated it three times throughout 2023. 

This was incredibly frustrating because the initial drafts of scenes would come pretty easily, but I couldn’t seem to make them pop the way the earlier chapters did. The good news is I think I figured out what the issue was. Most of my writing this year has been speed writing. And a big part of that is just where I’ve been emotionally. I’m very very out of practice in editing and redrafting, which this story and Aftermath both definitely need. 

I’ve only been able to edit Aftermath because I’ve had a ton of help. (Thanks Noodles!) Sadly, it’s harder to find betas for rarepairs, but I have succeeded! (Thanks@coffeebanana!)

7 A line of writing you’re proud of: 

“She wanted to be there to see it. To see him.”

This line is way better in context, but I’ve made myself cry about three times with it. And I refuse to explain it because that would give its power away. Guess you’ll just have to go read Aftermath. 

8 A comment that touched you: 

I can never answer this question without mentioning several!! 

Would Trust You With Everything - this story had a ton of enthusiastic followers - way more than rarepair work usually gets, and I wrote this story right after my life fell apart and all the commenters here made throwing this story together just that much more joyful during a time when I REALLY needed it. (I'm looking at you, @bittersweetresilience, @bbutterflies @flightfoot @coffeebanana and so many others that I don't know your tumblr name!!!) Not Part of the Plan Comments - I added sex ed lessons to the end of each chapter here because there’s so much about fertility and pregnancy that people don’t know if typical pregnancy fics are anything to go by, and this seemed to inspire so many people to share their pregnancy stories!!! And these have been so cool because I’ve learned that these stories just don’t often have an opportunity to be shared. And it’s neat that this story with its accompanying lessons could create a space for that!! Aftermath comments - lots of people who have really struggled with moderate to severe depression have apparently felt very seen by this fic. And that a story that is essentially about two characters who feel very alone and like no one can understand can help people feel LESS alone and MORE understood is simply amazing!! I love this story so much!! AHH!! Here's one from @neurovascular-entrapta that meant a lot to me.

9 Something that inspired your writing:

Grief and the need to feel things in a distant abstract-these-are-story-book-characters kind of way so I don’t have to feel my actual feelings as closely every moment of the day really kept me writing the whole year long.

10 Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

My writing has been really raw and messy this year, and I can’t keep tenses straight to save my life. But there’s something powerful about the rawness that I really like even as all the grammatical errors and the lack of effort on the technical side of most of my stories has driven me nuts. 

I am proud of myself for being able to get back into the big projects in these last few months after not being able to face them from April to October. And I’ve started participating in a few writing events here and there again in addition to working on my own pet projects. 

11 Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

Well, I wanted to finish Not Part of the Plan in 2023, which didn’t happen only barely! So hoping the last chapter and the epilogue make it out within the next month. Once that’s done I think I want to try and make Aftermath and Right Behind You my primary focus projects this year. And of course, I’m sure new plot bunnies and writing events will take over my brain on occasion. Last year, I said I wanted my writing to become a reliable mental health tool for me again, and I’m glad to say that it definitely was that for 2023. I hope I’m able to use my writing this year to continue my healing journey. 

And maybe go and proofread all of the fics I finished in 2023 to fix all the inconsistent tense issues to prepare them for being bound eventually!

12 Anyone you would like to thank?

SO MANY PEOPLE!

@jennagrinsoverml for being one of my oldest fandom friends! For becoming a real life friend for all that we haven't actually met in person. For all the times you vented to me and listened and sent me pictures of your family and gushed over pictures of mine. I'm lucky to know you!

@ladyofthenoodle - for showing up in my DMs, For being a most insightful beta, for dragging me into a larger community over and over again, for listening to both my real struggles and my first world problems, for being my friend!!

@thelibraryloser - I don't know how to put this into words. But I very much look up to you. For your resilience through difficult times - you are role-model for how to handle this world with grace and kindness. Thank you for your stories!

@coffeebanana - for being so enthusiastic in the creation process before and after! When I have a story that is getting no attention one comment from you makes it so it doesn't matter. You give me all I need.

@bittersweetresilience and @wackus-bonkus-maximus for just being so kind and enthusiastic and supportive of any idea I happen to be talking about in any given moment. I guess for enabling me. Haha!

@blur0se and @mila-beedoodling for sharing your ideas and inspiring me to create new things!!

@asukiess, @chocoluckchipz, @sariahsue, @miabrown007 for creating so many beautiful things and for being kind and engaging in so many conversations!

And now, I'm really nervous that I'm forgetting someone because this is the first time where I feel like I've had more than three fandom friends. Haha! It's a good problem to have I suppose. In general, thank you to the miraculous community for helping me to survive this year. <3 <3 <3

Happy New Year Everyone!!

I invite anyone who wants to, to fill this out! (Or something similar because I think it can be modified for artwork pretty easily). But if you do, please tag me, so I can be a cheerleader for all you've accomplished this year!

[anna-scribbles]

can you share some of your writing/planning process for thirteen? i adore the non-linear format - how do you decide what scenes to put where?

ahh thank you!! idk how much of a defined process I have, but there's definitely a lot of planning that goes into it and i can show you some of that.

i keep all the chapters in one doc organized by month, and then i plan everything out in bullet points in a timeline at the beginning. here i just have october and november as examples bc after december things started to get more detailed/messy

all of the scenes (especially at the beginning) set the stage for things i’ve planned to happen later, or establish something that feels relevant to adrien’s character by the time we meet him in canon. the task of condensing an entire month into about 2-3 scenes has been a bit difficult; i’ve found out that i’m a very present-moment kind of writer so it’s harder for me to describe the passage of, like, weeks of time. so i’ve been pinpointing specific threads of adrien’s story that i want to be sure to tell and choosing scenes from each month that build on that.

i’ve had the idea for this fic in the back of my mind since about 2021 so i’ve had several scenes cemented in my mind, ways i’ve decided things played out, etc. some of the writing process has been building the narrative around those things or figuring out how we get there. that’s what i love about prequels in general, honestly - it’s inevitable where we’re going to end up, but how do we get there?

adrien’s situation, at the moment we meet him in origins, is SO endlessly fascinating to me. he is in the process of doing something reckless and rebellious and bold - running away - against the will of his father, a man he spends the rest of the series struggling with his compulsion to submit to. we find out, via the rest of the show, exactly how difficult it is for adrien to stand up to his father. and yet, in his very first appearance, adrien is running away from him.

how did he get here? what, exactly, pushed him to this point? was this the final escalation of a steady build of rebellious behaviors, or an impulsive breakthrough after one awful day too many? what has this small boy been through in the last year, and why does public school seem to be his only fathomable escape?

and WHY, if his circumstances are so dire as to compell him to rebel so boldly in the first place, does he still throw it away to help the old man in the road? what makes him so kind, when he has everything to lose? what happened? how did he get here?

i’m interested, obviously, in the character of émilie. i think that the hole she leaves in the narrative is a compelling silhouette and i’ve been having a blast trying to pencil in its details. it’s obvious that adrien loved her deeply and had a stronger connection to her than with gabriel. but also, adrien was still shut off from the world while she was alive. he was still, presumably, an exploited child star while she was alive. she was an actress and a mother and died by broken magic and never told her son the truth about any of it. figuring out who i think she was and then how to show that through young adrien’s eyes has been a huge part of planning this story for me.

as far as the twenty three year old adrien sections, those have been less involved as far as planning goes. i only recently mapped out which areas of the house i want him to visit during the different months. i wanted his sections to line up at least thematically, if not physically, where thirteen year old adrien is at in his story. for example, in december twenty three year old adrien cleans out the dining room where thirteen year old adrien was having terrible christmas dinner. and in january they’re both in the garden, etc.

it’s a bit harder to map out twenty three adrien just because it has to also make sense geographically - i can’t have him running back and forth up and down the stairs, let’s be real he doesn’t have the energy for that. i’ve also opened up the agreste mansion page on the miraculous wiki so many times while trying to map this out 💔💔 did you know that apparently there’s a third floor we never see in the show. yeah i have to figure out what to do with that now

ANYWAY long story short: the planning process for thirteen is kind of a mess, but the whole story is built around some central plot points that i knew i wanted to hit from the beginning. the details change a lot (as you can see from the outline above - it’s not quite right) but i keep the end in mind. just have to figure out how we get there.

thank you for asking!! mwah<3