#tiny houses for veterans

[yanderenightmare]

Nanami Kento

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, inexperienced reader, virginity loss, size-difference, abuse of power, lies and manipulation, captive darling, age-gap

AN: thinking about a pervy sex therapist Nanami~

fem reader

You started coming to his home office once a week. 

Unsure of it all, in the beginning, you were so nervous. He looked so strict – sitting opposite you in his dark brown leather chair with such a tight expression on his face. 

But you came around to like him soon enough. 

He was a nice man. Serious but tender with you – putting out freshly baked muffins on the coffee table and always giving you a warm cup of chamomile with vanilla and honey before getting started. 

And he was knowledgeable too – had that mature air about him that seemed so polished and proficient you couldn’t help but hang off every word like it was scripture.

When he told you to stop wearing bras because they hinder natural breast growth, you listened, and when he said that keeping your pussy hairless was important for hygienic purposes, you believed him because you trusted him.

He diagnosed you with virgin anxiety and has been so patient with you ever since, helping you overcome it.

Professional enough to practice with you. Sticking a gloved finger inside your pretty pussy when you’re propped on his examination bed, testing out your tightness with words reassuring you that you just need to wait and allow your body to provide the wetness – smiling at you kindly, that way old men do, more with his eyes than his lips, when you’re weeping with slick enough to accommodate all three of his lengthy fingers inside you – squeezing on him so tight.

You gush, shaking your head while spluttering apologies when you cum around them, but he just rubs your clit slowly, with veteran steadiness – telling you it's only natural and healthy for a young woman like you to be so sensitive under a man's touch – that it’s nothing to be ashamed or scared of – on the contrary, it’s something you should feel very proud of.

He’s also kind enough to give you extra sessions – at least three times a week at his home office – sometimes even breaking his own rules, treating you to a house call, coming to your apartment for a nice little chat. 

He even assigns you daily exercises for you to do on your own – though he encourages you to call him so he can guide you through it. Instructing you to wet your fingers in your mouth first before you touch yourself down there.

He listens to your little moans filtered through the phone – bated breaths and whimpers as you get yourself all bothered and needy for more. 

He tells you to turn on the camera so he can see if you’re doing it right, and you listen – placing the phone in view of your tiny fingers struggling to reach and stuff your cute cunt.

He praises you on your good job – his own camera off, for obvious reasons – he can't have you seeing his raging shaft just yet, or how he jerks it to the sight of your tight little cunt. A deep furrow between his brows and his jaw locked tight, resolute in his plans of coaxing you into giving him your first time. He groans just thinking about it, splurting his load into his fist, listening to you moan for him. “This feels funny, Nanami-san~ Is this right? ~ Please, Nanami-san, teach me~” 

He's been coveting your virginity for months now – grooming you – making you pliant and gullible, and soon, all his patience and hard work would pay off. 

It’s cute that you don’t know it yet… but your pretty little pussy is all his.

He expertly works it into your sessions as an exercise. One he promises you’ll benefit from. Telling you your condition can be blamed on never having studied a real grown man’s cock – that, because it’s such a foreign thing to you, you end up fearing it.

He reminds you how this is a safe space – tells you that all he cares about is your wellbeing – as he sets himself next to you on the couch, his thick thigh next to yours, while buckling up his belt and zipping himself free – taking his fat erection out for you to lay your innocent eyes on.

“Here it is.” He clears his throat with a rusty sigh, sounding relieved when his manhood springs free, standing proud and fat.

His veins flex along his arm beneath dark blonde hair as he strokes the length lazily – up and down slowly. Making old noises – heavy sighs and hums – dragging the foreskin back and revealing its plush mushroomed head.

You take it in with doe eyes.

“Don’t be shy. Tell me your thoughts.”

You swallow thickly at the assignment, blinking out of your stare. Shocked and embarrassed, though curious, but also a little grossed out – you’re not sure what feeling you end up with. “Uhm- It’s very… big.”

He chuckles low at that. “Come on, you can do better. What else?” He urges you, offering another deep but light-hearted laugh. “You can be honest. It’s a little funny looking, huh?”

“Yeah-” You giggle lightly in return, though you’re still somewhat uneasy – sitting as though you plan on leaving, but staying nonetheless, at the edge of your seat – eyes glued to the chubby member, studying the curve of its spine and the veins forking their way up to its head.

“Feel up to touching it?” He asks, and your eyes snap to his – lined with crow’s feet and something so trustworthy. 

But still, you promptly shake your head in embarrassment. “Oh- no, thank you, Nanami-san-” But he’s already taken your smaller hand in his, pulling you back by guiding it to his lap. 

“No, no, little one- this is what we've been training for. You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He scolds you, voice both dismissive and reassuring all at once. “Here- feel it.” 

He wraps your tiny fingers around the stout shaft and overlaps your hand with his, helping you find the rhythm – stroking it nice and slow. 

“There you go, just like that. Good.”

You hesitate at first. Giving your lip a soft bite while thinking about his previous words.

Was he right? Are you scared because you've never looked at or touched a real penis before?

You don't want to be a virgin forever – it's embarrassing as an adult – it makes you still feel like such a silly little girl.

So... if Dr. Nanami says that this will help you overcome your fears, then you suppose...

You'll do it.

You gulp and follow his movement – up and down the large and lengthy pole.

It's so warm – pulsing in your grip, twitching at your soft touch. Skin so thin, almost rubbery, holding something much tougher than you’d imagined.

In your hand, it’s a lot bigger as well. You can’t even reach your fingers around the thickness to touch your thumb.

“All of this goes inside me?” You ask, under your breath – swallowing thickly while he leads your dainty hand downward into the hair around his base, then up to the wet tip, which pilled and trickled with white pearls getting caught between your fingers – warm and sticky.

“That’s right, every inch.” He answers – voice relaxed – pleased by how well you were doing. “Does that scare you?”

You bite your lip and rub your thighs together. “A little…”

“But it makes you feel a little warm, too, hm?” He suggests. “Makes your mouth wet? And also, that soft place between your legs?”

You make a nervous sound, digging your nails into your knee, where you let your other hand rest awkwardly. 

He hums again with a soft chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one. It’s a good thing.” He ensures, encouragingly squeezing your hand underneath his while lifting the other up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear – before sliding it across the back of your neck. “Let's see you be brave and give it a taste.”

You hesitate again – this time a little more decidedly. “I don’t think I can-” But Dr. Nanami is strong, keeping your neck in a pinch as he guides you down into a bow.

“It’s alright, I’m here to help you. Just open your mouth, and I’ll show you how.” He insists soothingly. Spreading his thighs out further while laying your head down on his lap, hips moving languidly when brushing his shaft up between your lips. 

It’s so big, so hot, pumping with warmth where you kiss it on the side on a particularly fat and throbbing vein.

He lifts you up slightly and angles the tip into your mouth, creating a cute bulge in your cheek where he rests his hand to keep you down when you flinch at the salty tang getting caught by your saliva. The taste quickly coats your entire tongue.

“Mmh- that’s a big girl~ getting her first mouthful of cock.” Dr. Nanami sighs with a groan, dropping his head back against the couch cushions while pushing up into the pouch of your cheek in lazy thrusts. It strains – makes you feel like it might poke through and make a hole.

He lets it settle there for a moment, enjoying the wet warmth and the unsure movements of your sweet tongue – not knowing where to go with all the space occupied by his meat.

But then he tangles both hands in your hair, gathering it all into a neat ponytail. And, lifting your skull up directly above, he sends his cock down your guzzle even when you whine out in meek protest.

“Breathe through your nose and try your best to swallow it down as far as your throat allows.” He instructs, keeping a tight-knit grip around your hair in one fist whilst the other hand slides down to pet your cheek in soothing circles.

Forcing it down your tight little amateur throat even when your jaw feels like it’s unlocking. 

“Good girl.” He sighed once he’d wedged himself in all the way until your lips kissed the pubes at his base.

Your smaller hands dent the muscle of his thigh, offering a meager push. Mewing out a “Mrph-” while you gag around the trunk. 

He holds you there, roosting inside your throat for another satisfying moment before easing up, pulling you up by your pony.

You gasp, halfway choked on your spit – but he's not much concerned.

“Stand up- let me feel.” He rushes out in a stiff order, ignoring how you cough and slurp for air – forcing you up to stand between his knees. 

His firm hands plant themselves on your hips, being the only sturdy thing balancing you as you wobble – unsteady when he tugs your skirt and panties down until they drop into a pool around your ankles.

He then pulls you onto his lap – seating you with your back leaning against his chest with his cock gliding up through your inner thighs, rubbing against your bare cunt.

You’re still light-headed, bracing yourself against his broad chest while he keeps one thick arm strong around your waist – holding you snug. The other jerks his manhood, tapping it against your clit in soft spit-wet slaps.

“Let’s see how it feels inside you.” He grunts against your ear, resting his chin-stubbled jaw in the dip between your neck and shoulder – looking to where he has your thighs spread over his own.

“N-no, Nanami-san-” You manage to squeak out softly with a voice both teary and hoarse from choking. “Please- I’m not ready-”

But he doesn’t listen – and any struggle you try to inflict ends up aimless where you’re barred beneath his arm – strict and tough with brawn like it’s a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride.

“I think you're more than ready for it. Trust me.” He’s growling now – so menacingly, you don’t dare speak against it. Only watching the glossy veiny beast with bleary eyes while he rubs through your pussylips with the fat plush bulge topping it – catching your clit and making you gasp before zoning down to your pretty little twitchy hole.

You whine when it’s forced to stretch open as he nudges himself inside the pill-sized opening despite your effort to climb away from it.

“It hurts, Nanami-san!” You cry, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

“Your virgin pussy will understand it soon. Don’t worry.” He dismisses – continuing to ease his thickness into the tautness, knowing you must be feeling close to tearing apart once his head’s finally swallowed in with a pop, followed by his inches bullying through you one by one, each feeling like a painful mile. 

You cry out, nearly screaming, “Please, Nanami-san! Take it out- it’s too much-” worming on his lap, trying to wiggle it out.

But he has you under reigns, and your struggling only results in him sinking inside you faster. Now, so deep you feel him nuzzle against your womb – and still it keeps sleaving itself until it curves against your walls and pudges out in a cute belly bulge.

“We've trained for this. You need to allow your body the time it takes to get comfortable.” He coos, sounding less on edge now that you’ve taken him inside your comfort.

His chest rumbles with satisfaction against your back as he sits there relaxed, bouncing you slackly but not too much just yet.

He keeps you seated but lifts his other arm to tug off your tiny T-shirt. 

“Here, let's take this off. It’ll help.” He excuses, and you’re a little too desperate for the relief to refuse – listening to the kindness in his voice and lifting your arms in hope, letting him fling it off.

Only in socks now. You throw your head back and whine when he twists one of your pretty nipples into a sore nub – chest arching from the contact. The arm holding you in place slides a hand between your thighs and starts circling your cute button, flicking over it with a gritty fingerprint.

The friction makes your belly bloom all sorts of colors, making you lock and quiver around that big thing he has nestled inside you, throbbing against your womb as he only gently bounces you on his lap – stretching your little pussy out generously as it suckles him so very sweetly – so very wet, drooling on his lap –squeezing him oh-so-snug.

You feel sticky after a while of twisting and refusing. Feeling so full and feverish. Neck wet from tongue and lips – so wet, spit is running slow trails down your chest, cool in the chilly open air of his home office.

You still think you want to stop, but you’re not as tense anymore – resting prettily against his chest. Moaning for each swirl he does over your budding clit – having quaked with pleasure a whole of three times already, gummy walls rippling all along his shaft as you softly loll your hips on him in return.

There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you – having drooled form where it seeps around the tight edges of where he has you stuffed air-tight, running down his balls to gloss the leather seat beneath. 

He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for the real thing. 

It’s almost unfair – how easily your smaller body is held in his hands. Maneuvered so effortlessly as he lifts your thighs up against your chest, then spreads them wide. 

He hooks your knees on his elbows and braids his fingers behind your neck. It's an awkward position, but you’re completely locked in it. Unable to do a thing except wail with moans once he starts pistoning his fat man-cock up inside you. 

It’s way worse when he stands up – bouncing you in the air – holding you folded against his chest, your legs dangling over his arms, jumping as he pounds his meat inside you, stuffing your cunt full on every deep thrust – stabbing your poor stomach until you’re screaming and squirting from the pressure.

Feeling you soak him is the last straw – so tight while spraying a hot mess.

He sits down again, lifting you off his cock before fanning your clit with four fingers – making you gush out every last drop, screaming while raining on his cock until you’ve strangled it out one final time – left shaking.

You’re then ushered down to the floor, on your knees – the top of your head leveled with Dr. Nanamis's big hand, keeping your face forward as he faps his sturdy thickness at your mouth.

“Open your mouth wide.” He orders, his teeth grit while his bulbing cockhead kisses your lips. 

You listen when he gives your little head a shake – rolling your tongue out while dropping your jaw for him.

“That’s a good girl-” He praises, placing his tip on the wet bed of your soft pink tongue, giving his cock only a few more tugs before his balls clenched hard and sent a big fat load through his cock out into your pretty little open mouth.

He groans heavily, almost angrily, squeezing every spurt out – some coming out so heavy it spills up your face and down your chin – but mostly getting caught where you have your lips parted to receive it.

“Good girl.” He repeats, taking in the sight of your painted face – so cute covered in his cum. 

He smiles.

“Now swallow it all down. And don’t waste a single drop. It's rich in vitamins young girls like you need to become proper ladies.”

You don’t want to close your mouth – you want to spit all of it out and rinse the rest with toothpaste and water. But the hand petting your head is so heavy, you don’t dare. So you swallow. Sniffling at the yucky taste once it sits warm in your stomach, still so sticky and gross on your tongue.

But Dr. Nanami seems pleased.

“Moving forward, I think you’ll benefit from closer examination.” He says. “I've made arrangements to have you institutionalized here, where I can keep a closer eye on you and offer more frequent assistance. You still have a long way to go before you’re well, little one. I’m not close to seeing the results I need in order to release you from my care.”

You’re still too shocked by the former events to look confused, but the sick feeling in your gut just keeps growing.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep training, and soon I’ll have you turned into a proper little cock-pet.”

You want to run, but after what you’re body had just been put through, aching and screaming at you like it was your fault – you knew you wouldn’t be able to do much more than crawl, and something about the still fat cock resting its weight against Dr. Nanamis thigh told you he wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Give my cock some time to rest, and we’ll try it again later.” He confirmed your fears, still with his hand stroking your head like a pet at his feet. “Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me how your sweet pussy liked losing its virginity- and how this little face enjoyed getting its first-ever taste of cock and cum, hm?”

sequel

[iidgroupre]

Tiny Houses for Homeless Veterans | Veterans Community Project

[thevoidstaredback]

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

[gremlingottoosilly]

Slasher!König who’s amused watching his best friend!/or girlfriend!Reader trying to figure out who’s behind all these recent killings, unaware that it’s him. Imagining Detective!Reader where she’s the one assigned to crack the case to bring him in, completely oblivious to the fact that the killer is closer than she thinks.

Konig is a nice guy next door. A soldier, a veteran - still going to deployments from time to time, surprisingly not spending all of his money on booze and hard drugs. Surprisingly nice to meet you for the first time in some bookshop and help you get the book you wanted from the tallest shelf. It was another dissection of Zodiac's killings - you chuckle nervously, saying it was a hobby of yours. Trying to solve the unsolved cases, always searching for the truth. Konig laughed a bit nervously too - a good boy, a shy boy. Got you coffee after and let you order for the two of you. Listened so intently to your ramblings about recent murder cases, you thought he might actually be interested. You smiled at the thought. There are women going missing. Found out, much later - dissected, thrown into rivers. Bags on their heads and pretty dresses that you thought might be to your tastes if they weren't dressed on a corpse. None of the clothes belonged to them - and you felt ill looking at them. More and more of the girls were looking like you - but no one actually believed you when you tried pointing that out. These were women from other cities, from other provinces. You think some might even be found in Germany - no killer would go as far as to literally drive for hours to snatch a kill. You're just paranoid. Konig tells you so. Buys you a pretty dress because you look too stressed lately. It's easy to fall into his embrace. He is shy, harmless, adorable even. Presses kisses all over your face and smiles when you whine just a tiny bit. Asks you to be his girl and to move in with him - you ramble so much about killing and disappearances, he starts to worry about you. Probably thinks you're crazy and wants to observe you from a safe distance, so his pretty girl wouldn't get hurt. You don't care, can't care when he is hugging you tightly. He smells like bleach and fresh laundry. His house is clean, always smells like detergent and stain remover - you think he might be the first guy to actually know how to clean a house properly. It brings you comfort. Finally found yourself a nice guy. Konig presses kisses on your shoulder as you read about another disappearance. Girl looks like you, almost. Wears almost the same dress. No. Wears your dress. A little stain on the left, your pitiful attempt at being a proper housewife, and remove sauce from the skirt. Konig smells like metal today. Like blood. Tangles with a ring that has some weird stains on it. Kisses your forehead. "There is my smart Schatzen" You can't even scream before he drags you down.

[lovifie]

Simon was in complete awe of your captivating persona from the very beginning. He always imagined you as a serene, well-read, and graceful princess. Your persona was so angelic that he believed you descended from the heavens. He assumed you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, surrounded by opulence and luxury. But all of his preconceptions changed when he met your parents at a family dinner. To his surprise, your dad was a retired veteran colonel, and your mom was a retired military pilot. They were acting cruelly…hell even the children at the dinner…The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning, that you and your siblings were raised to be soldiers, and your training began from childhood….

This is the second time I write it because the only time I chose to write directly on Tumblr.com it bugged and deleted it (I wanna rip my eyes off) Hope that you like it 🩷

Extra bit - Extra bit x2

It was a dinner arranged by your parents, the whole team was invited. You thought about not saying anything, keep to yourself and tell your parents the team said no. But they would read right through you, and the moment you mentioned the team was sold.

Now, Simon used to think that you came for an extremely wealthy family. That you joined the military in an act of rebellion, that you could have easily chosen an easier job because you wouldn't have to worry about money in your life. You always move so gracefully while fighting, always so serene when talking, he had yet to see you cry or get mad. Almost like a porcelain door.

What he didn't know was that it was simply a mask that had been forced upon you by your parents. And it was during the dinner that he started to see the little cracks.

He finally saw you be tense, every thread of your person pulled to their limit ready to snap. He understood why you always seemed so relaxed under Price's orders. In comparison to your parents, the man was a loving mother. At some point they even expressed their doubts even of the captain's abilities. He didn't even want to think about how much self doubt they have helped you form.

It slowly started to make sense, how he would never see you in the mess hall. Always working, always training, always practicing, always studying, always getting better.

He looked at your siblings, younger, worse at hiding their emotions. He could see their tiredness, their fear of your parents. You have seated yourself between your father and your siblings. Trusting more to seat them next to Ghost than your own parents.

Your youngest sibling was sitting next to him, and when he noticed them looking up to them he looked back. The kid didn't even look away, and Ghost winked at them making the slightest smile appear on his tiny face.

“We are eating.” Your mother chastised, your sibling face terrified as he went back to eating. It didn't escape him the way you jump, not the slight disgusted expression it put onto your father when you did.

He standed up, motioning you to follow him outside. You panic for a second, forgetting that you no longer lived in your parents house and didn't need to be afraid. You slipped through your father's hand, walking behind the lieutenant when he went outside to have a smoke. You sat on the floor, sighing and with tears pricking your eyes from the frustration.

Ghost asked you about it, and you finally let go of it all. You told him about how your parents believe that dying at war is the most noble way out, how the only job valid for them was in the military, how you have never seen them cry, how you were sure that they would never cry if you died, everything.

By the end of it, you were hugging his leg, your head resting on his thigh as he rubbed your head with his hand consoling you.

“Wait here.” He threw the cigarette to the floor, stepping on it and went back inside.

A moment later the four men were out again.

“C’mon, kid.” Price said with a smile on his face. “There's an emergency, let's go.”

Just when you were standing up, drying your tears the door opened.

Your siblings walked out, giggling each with a backpack. “We heard the world needs saving, shall we go?”

And then, with your team and your siblings, you went into the most rundown, almost destroyed pub. Ate the most greasy food that you were certain would give everyone food poisoning and went on to have the best family dinner of your whole life.

[444st4rg1rl]

Roomies

18+ , 5.5k words

tags : roommate!reader, female!reader, sorta sidekick!reader, roommate!Logan, roommate!Wade, Best Friend!Wade, enemies to lovers, harsh words, very tiny angst, smut, oral sex (f) , unprotected p in v, fingering (f), cursing. 

a/n: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, also small spoilers to Deadpool & Wolverine. 

The one where you fucking hate your new roommate, but shit he’s also kinda hot. 

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“You think Murdock is willing to take a roommate?

Wade has made himself comfortable in his bed in his room, the one out of two rooms in his apartment that is housing three people. It was nice when it was just you and Wade, best buds, partners in crime, pookie and shookie.  Whatever the fuck, it had always been you and Wade. Now it’s you, Wade and Logan. Possibly the worst fucking addition to the duo. Doesn’t he know there is always a duo in a trio?

“Gasp! Is it because of the smell? Because pookie no where deep in reddit told me how to clean up-”

You put your hand up to stop him, face full of confusion yet the sheer idea of whatever Wade has to say next kills the curious cat roaming in your thoughts. You lean on his door frame - the doors not fully open out of fear but it’s enough to not want to step foot deep in the room - and closed enough for your eyes to be saved from the atrocity he was talking about. 

“Wade, please, I can’t fucking take it anymore I am fucking loosing it. I can’t even get water without seeing that sad sack of shit mopping on our fucking couch! It’s sad, Wade, if you loved me you'd kick him out.”

The childish ultimatum is dumb but maybe the puppy dog eyes you have going on as you stare at Wade big eyed and faux sadness. Overall this is childish of you, to beg your best friend to kick out the guy who just had to fucking help you save the world seems pathetic and rude of you. But who gives a fuck? Logan is rude, an arrogant asshole, a prick, douche, down-under fucker. He is the worst hero? you have had the displeasure of meeting. But no, God strikes you down on your hatred of this old man once more; he makes him hot.

“How could you say that about a war veteran?” 

The sarcasm combined with Wade talking to Mary Puppins like a baby rather than looking at you, has you wishing Cassandra killed you herself back when she had the chance. It was interesting to say the least, getting thrown into a rag team with Wade and being told to save the multiverse was not your usual mission but hey, money is money. That wasn’t really your style, the whole big hero sham. Vigilante, mercenary, the people's people, too hot to handle, now that’s just one big umbrella term you’d throw yourself under. You met Wade when he wasn’t deadpool and you were some weird eighteen year old who was a little too good with knives and way too lucky to be alive. It felt natural then and there to just fall under his wing and have him throw you out there, figuratively and literally (there was the 32 floor incident and the scars to prove it). Your thankful for it even if it means some scars and permanent migraine because twenty-three year old you now has the confidence to throw a kitchen knife that was embedded in the wall next to you- right into Wades head and slam the door shut, something eighteen year old would have hesitated to do at first. 

“Nice clothes ya got there, Bub.”

Logan’s deep voice rattles through your system, spiking your nervous system higher than it normally is around him, (usually very high). You spin around from Wade’s door, the curse you had ready to drip off your tongue is gathered right back into your mouth after you get a look at him. Tall, dark, so big and strong; the words Karen Page had uttered to you the first time she saw Logan after you and Wade had brought him around the group you guys converse in. The words that had haunted you at night, the nights where you catch him and Wade fighting and his massive arms are on display for you to shamelessly stare at or the nights where you curse what God you might have pissed off in your past multiverses that put your very thin bedroom wall right next to the shower wall. Hearing The Wolverine, the one that you had read in comics growing up, untouchable and badass Wolverine, was the one you heard bite down on his knuckles to quiet down his deep groans as he got himself off in the shower. You close your eyes to regain what you were gonna say and look at Logan.

“Thanks, go fuck yourself.”

You turn to make the small trek to your room, looking down at clothes Logan had chosen to comment on. An oversized and stretched t-shirt that has Spider-man's logo on it, the shirt long enough to reach your thighs so like always you for-go the pants. You're not gonna change your comfiness for one person who decided to be a roach in your living room. 

Logan’s large hand on your wrist is what gets your anger sparking as he stops you from entering your room. 

“Can I fucking help you?”

Harsh words cut through your mouth as you remove your wrist from his hand, if you were to miss the warmth it provided, then well that’s later you in your bed problem. 

“Are you going with Wilson tomorrow?”

Tomorrow, a day job that you and Wade had picked up, some bullshit, go kill this person,yadda yadda, and here's the money. The main reason you're so excited? A day away from him. 

You don’t even bother to say yes, you nod your head at him, open your door, stare at him, ignore the smirk, and slam the door. Wait why the fuck did he make that face?

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Now, to be truthful you should have pushed back against Logan last night. Yelled and pushed for a fight on why did he care where you were going, why did he make that face at you. You really should have, instead you chose peace. Now you live with violence in the present. Your suit clings too tight to you right now and one of your knives is digging into your thigh and oh, fucking Logan is apparently is coming. There goes any excitement you had about the day trip away from the bastard. You give Wade the silent treatment in the apartment, on the way to the car, during his shameful ‘Careless Whisper’ performance in the car and halfway to the mission. Wade drives, it’s an amusing site to watch the rather large man sit in the driver seat of the 2008 Nissan Rogue (Hondas hold too much PTSD for the group). You make yourself comfortable in the passenger and try to tune out Logan seating himself in the back.

Wade leans over, not subtly, and puts a hand cupping around his masked mouth and whispers rather loudly-

“Is this because I washed your suit too tight? Or is it your allergy to cheap soaps? I know your skin is bougie, bestie.”

You're going to kill him, you and Logan. You go to grab at the stickshift in the center console to fuck up the car but Wade knows you to well and already has a hand on the stick shift. Hearing Logan chuckle has you moving quickly. A gun is pressed right to the center of his unfortunately gorgeous forehead and takes off safely as you make direct eye contact with him.

“I will fucking pull the trigger right now.”

“Ya know you won’t Bubs, you're too much of a pussy for that.”  

The familiar nickname sends a shiver down your spine, and a heat you're too known with through the lower parts of you but the anger from his doubting overshines like usual, intrusively you unbuckle your seat belt and jump in the back seat and pistol whip Logan across the face. 

Bad choice

Logan stares at you as the gash from the pistol is rapidly repairing itself but the bloody evidence makes itself permanent on his face. He’s quick to act, unbuckling his seatbelt and going to launch himself at you.

You don’t have any fancyshamchy powers of that sort, you heal fast, just like the other two in the car but not that fast, maybe a day or two. And you're lucky, one would call it a power and someone wouldn’t. But fuck your lucky you avoid Logans fast coming fist towards your head. You duck and lean back on the seat kicking your feet out to hit him in the stomach. He gets pushed back and his head hits the widow opposite of you hard and loud. The site has you cackling, from your view as your half laid down on the seat and one leg half up and the other hanging off the seat. Logan’s broad body is pushed up against the window. Your cackling comes to a yelp as Logan is quick to pounce on you. His large body pins yours down to the seat. One arm is quick to grab your hands, capturing them in one hand that he brings above your head. His other arm across your throat pressing down hard enough to cut off your air supply.

You blame the lack of air for the thought that pushes through your mind, the sight of him above you right now all furious and heated. His thick forearm heavy on your throat should have you kicking him immediately off you but you falter. The worst part? Logan notices. You're a second to late for your normal reaction time. You watch in slight horror as Logan realizes this above you. 

“Hey! Are you guys fucking back there? Listen I know where in the middle of enemies to lovers fanfic but C’MON!”

For fucking once Wade decided to be useful these past two days, you ignore his spewing but Logan seems distracted. You get the high ground and kick him off, shoving a baby knife into his neck and scrambling your ass back into the front seat by Wade. As you adjust yourself back into your seat, the feeling of hot slick between your thighs has become a rather uncomfortable problem that has aroused. You shift uncomfortably in your seat and make the mistake of catching Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror and he gives you a sideways glance. Fuck, fucking mutants, fucking weird senses, fucking dog boy.

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If Logans being truthful, he never hated you. Hate’s too strong of a word, he does although despise you. Loathe, detest, revulse, abhorrence, those are the words Logan would use if someone asked him to describe his feelings towards you. The annoying girl who had saved the world with him and who he shares an apartment with. The very annoying girl who he wants to pummel into the ground, and then into a bed. 

Since the whole ‘we saved the universe now we gotta go back to New York and hey I guess you can come with us’ has happened to him has tested his patience. 

It’s rough adjusting to a new life let alone a new fucking universe and she makes it no better. Logan truly wants to hate her the way he portrays, he wonders if she gets tired of arguing all the time. Being so uptight and rude twenty-four seven, to have anger vibrate through her bones. Every conversation they had is laced with malice. 

“Why the fuck are you in my fridge.” - “I didn’t realize you owned the whole fridge, girl.’

“You're a reckless waste of space, I'm surprised Cassandra failed to kill you.” - “Ain’t yo whole team dead cause of you?”

“You sure Wilson’s just not pitying you, Bubs?” - “How are you over two hundred years old and you still can’t pull bitches?” 

She’s quick-witted, sharp tongued and annoyingly gorgeous. The moment Logan laid his eyes on you, he felt his blood spike faster to his heart and his dick. Pretty young girl covered in blood holding a 9 mm, he was enamored, then you opened your mouth and it was a wrap (discreet wrap). Hating you publicly and his shower thoughts is what he had lived by for the past two months yet here he sits now in the back of the car, Wades shitty pop playlist blasting, and the image of you pinned underneath of him with your big wide eyes staring up at him is burned into his head. You faltered, he saw it himself the way you went lax and the way you liked it. He’s not stupid, he bluntly watches as you push your way out from under and throw yourself back into the passenger seat. He can’t control it but he smells you, the way you have to squeeze your thigh together to get some relief. 

It sends him into a frenzy as he catches your glazed eyes in the rearview mirror, he curses himself as he feels his blood rush and his cock hardens in his suit. Fuck

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You're sure Wade is the only person who enjoyed the mission, the only part you enjoyed is the fat wad of cash that was pushed into your hand. The three of you shuffle into the car that is somehow still standing. The three of you all covered in various contrivances along with Wade's now missing left arm. The car getting stained with every movement mixed with the hot interior is worse than a crowded hallway in highschool. You roll your window down and let the cool air soothe over your skin like a new layer of skin.

“I can’t believe those perverted bastards took my arm! Hope they like jerking their dicks off with sandpaper because…’’  Wade’s nonsense lulls you to a slumber that makes you ache less. 

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You're a loudmouth, not as bad as Wade but you need your fix of arguing and winning. Which is what has you standing at your door thinking hard before you open it. 

Logan’s ignoring you, well, you're also ignoring him. You’ve both been trying to pretend the other doesn’t exist as one can in a 15x10 apartment layout. Just start some shit, call him fucking lazy or ugly. You psych yourself up ready to start the argument and win. The door opens and there you go sauntering out of it in your big t-shirt and no pants. Logan makes a quick glance towards your direction but otherwise seems preoccupied on the television in front of him . You stand in the kitchen behind him mouth agape as you struggle to think of the words, angrily you grab water and return back to your room.

This keeps happening, you and Logan keep avoiding each other, not more than sparing a glance. Of course, it’s Wade who says something. He catches you as you're in your room and Logans of and about in New York. 

“So did the Big Bad Wolf really eat your grandma, huh?”

“I'm gonna make you eat your grandma.”

“Kinky, but my grandma was a fierce woman.” He launches himself onto your bed and grabs your fluffy throw pillow to hold, Mary Puppins trailing in after Wade. “But seriously pookie, this is odd behavior for you two. Y’know you guys are usually like cats and dogs after each other. Oh! You think the song ‘It’s Raining Men’ took into consideration ‘it's raining cats and dogs out”…....

“I hear Logan jerk off in the shower”

You're not completely sure why that's the first thing you say to Wade, but it shuts him up. He stares at you comically before he loudly gasps and goes to cover Mary Puppins ears before excitedly staring at you. If he wasn’t horrifically scarred you could almost compare him to a teen girl right now. 

“Sexual Tension! You have to fuck The Wolverine!”

You stare at Wade like he just said he was never going to shoot again.

“The fuck are you spewing about?”

You have no other choice but to listen to Wade spew about how to fix all your problems you have to fuck Logan. You get up as Wade is on his second speech on how to suck dick 101, you push him out of your room and depressingly stare at your wall before you realize. 

“Fuck!”

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After your conversation with Wade it's all that plagues your mind. The way the veins pop in his arms, how his chest looks in his wife beater. The dog tags that hand around his neck, you want to fall in front of your face and then choke him out. It catches up to you finally, after all you still share a kitchen with him. It's awkward, more awkward then a teen boy confessing his crush, it's kinda awkward where a two hundred year old mutant and a twenty three year old something of the sorts have a mutual hatred but sexual deviance of the other. 

It’s one-thirty four at night when you and Logan run into each other. You're grabbing a glass of water and he's sitting at the small Island nursing a beer. 

“Ya hate me so much Bubs you had to lock yourself away?”

You glare at him, eyes following the way he laughs at his own sentence and how his lips close around the top of his beer. You move your eyes up to catch his already glaring at you. You rack your mind to what to say, to embarrass him. 

“Bathroom walls are thin ya know, Old man.”

Got him. He freezes as he sets down his beer on the counter before continuing to stare at you, you smile at your upperhand in this. 

“Don’t know why you wanna piss me off so bad Old man, that's the only way you get it up?”

Low blow, but who cares. You certainly don’t as you watch as he racks his brain to say something. You beat him to it again.

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice, a bar, club, something. Or has it been too long for you to try anything with civilization?”

He stands up and fuck if he ain’t tall. You watch as he makes the small space in between you, he stands at his full. You reach about his shoulder so you have to lift your head to stare at him, he’s already staring down at you with a gleam in his eye. One of his hefty arms comes down on the counter behind you, caging you. His other arm rests by his side, an escape route if you still have the shreds of your dignity that tells you to leave, go back to your room and go to sleep. Yet Logan tilts his head at you and watches as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Harsh accusations from someone-”

His words are cut off as you put a hand to cover his mouth, you just know he’s going to mention the moment in the car. Your chest are pressed together as you keep your hand tight around his mouth. Your eyes are filled with something akin to embarrassment but something else. 

“Shut it. That was a moment of weakness.”

Logan grabs your hand that's covering his mouth and holds it tightly in his hand, it’s when you don’t jerk your hand back that Logan cages you in with both arms. There goes my dignity. 

“Yeah Bubs, moment of weakness. That's why you've been avoiding me like the plague huh?” He comes closer to your face, one large hand sneaking up to grip at your chin. “Scared you might like it?”

No fucking way. You feel how your heart stops in your chest, how all you can do is have your eyes scan over his face. You push your thighs together in some relief from the feeling of molten lava being run through your system down to your panties. You lean your face closer to him. You grip your fingers hard in the marble counter behind you. Trying to hold on to whatever last bit of anger that is spurring through your body. 

“Didn’t you avoid me too huh? Don’t point fingers.”

It’s like it was a trigger that switched something inside of him. The hand that had been caging you in is holding your waist in a grip so taut you could feel the fingertip indents forming. Logan seizes your chin again, a quicker way to shut you up. 

“Fuck ya want me to, huh?” He leans his large figure down to be only inches away from each other's faces. The scowl on his face shouldn’t send a thrill down your body but any shreds of sensible thoughts have been thrown out the window moments before. Logan watches you intently, he sees how you have a remark ready to spit at him like poison. 

“I’ve watched you parade yourself around this fucking apartment like this-” he grips the edge of the long t-shirt your wearing “-and I had to do nothing about it.”

You should bunch up your shoulder, fight back, but it seems any of your usual inhibitions are clawed away when it comes to Logan. You're a simple girl at heart, your eyes catch how thick the arms that are encasing you and the moment the idea you want them to hold you while he rams from the back is when you give up any thoughts that are holding you back. 

“Why don’t you do something now?”

It’s ballsy but it’s worth it for the way you can see Logan squint his eyes and push himself harder against you, the cold counter pushed into your back a small relief to your hot skin. His hand gripping your chin goes down to match the equally harsh grip on your waist. The shitty dim light from the kitchen overhead shadows over Logan perfectly, light defining the muscles that are being pulled taunt in his neck and shoulders. He drops his head to have lips brush over your ear. 

“I hear ya too, in your room. How those fucking fingers of yours aren’t enough, you wish that was me instead huh, Bubs?” His last words come out breathy with a hint of a chuckle falling off his lips. He drops his head on your shoulder and you feel your body run hot at the amount of contact. “Fuck, I could smell ya in there all the fucking time. Knew you hear me through the walls, girl.”

You tilt your head slightly letting your plush lips ghost over his ear like he did moments ago. 

“This doesn’t change anything, you're arrogant, egotistical and an asshole.”

Logan lifts his head confused at your words before you grab his face into your hands, a laughable size difference, and push his lips onto yours. He catches on quickly moving his lips against yours rather harshly, having a hand slide to your neck to keep you in place, the other hand pushing you against him. You groan at the feeling of his hardened cock pressed up by your upper thigh. It’s quick and rough with him, the way he grabs at your skin and handles you. 

His calloused hands reach under your thighs and grunts out a ‘jump’ and that's exactly what you do. Letting your thighs hit the cold counter is a burn relief on your burning thighs. His lips run down from your lips to your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin has you throwing your head back into the cabinets that rest behind you. His hands knead your plush thighs and you pull at his hair tufts and he groans into your neck. 

He pulls away completely leaving you a confused mess. You must look like a sight, shirt falling off one shoulder and bunching at your waist. Hair a wreck framing your face and your kiss swollen lips. You go to mumble out a disoriented ‘what’ but Logans already grabbing at the undersides of your thighs and you're pulled into his arms. His fingertips grip into the backs of your thighs leaving bruises in their wake, you take the advantage to run your hands down his tank top clad shoulders and chest feeling the hard muscle ripple under your touch. 

“Say it.”

You stare at him slightly confused as he sets you down on your bed, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He’s looking at you so earnestly it almost hurts. 

“Say what, Logan?” You lean back on your arms before deciding on gaining a surge of confidence. You grab at the edge of your shirt and rip it over your head. Free the nipple and all that but thank fuck is all you think. It’s like a reward watching his eyes land on your bare chest and the way his breath hitches. You pull him down by his tank top. “I want you Logan.” 

The reaction is spontaneous, he’s leaning back and taking his tank top off from the hem behind his neck. You crawl back onto your bed and he follows you, in this state you could ask him to follow you to any universe and he would. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down back to your lips, his hands gliding smoothly over your torso before he grabs one of your tits in hand and pulls harshly at your nipple. He does it again on the other nipple after he hears the gasp that comes out your mouth. He moves his kissed lips down from your lips to your neck. You catch the image, his massive body crowding yours, a shield from the outside world. His lips detach from the purple hazing mark starting to form on your neck and attach his lips to one of your taut nipples while kneading the other one. You snake your hands into his hair and pull. Into the spank bank box.

It’s when his lips start trailing down your tits to your stomach, kissing and playing with the plush skin before he kisses around your thigh. Teasing on purpose, avoiding where you need him the most. He lets his thumbs enter the hem of your painties before he looks back at you. 

“You know how long I’ve waited to be here, baby?”

“Then show me, c’mon”

Logan pulls your painties off so slowly it should be a crime but with how he kisses your pussy like it’s a prize bails him out. His arms wrap around your thighs to give him better access, a forearm going across your stomach to hold you down like you're in the wrong for squirming. He licks up and down your pussy and fuck it makes you angry how good he is at it. His tongue teasing your hole and you whimper, you pull at his hair tufts and he looks at you, his eyes are teasing and his mouth and chin are covered in your juices. He maintains eye contact as he moves his lips over to your clit and sucks, he keeps his mouth closed around the bundle and watches how you moan and squirm under him. He removes one arm from around your waist to thrust a single finger into your tight hole. He doesn’t make a remark on the gasp but pulls up for where he was and stops his movement.

“Stop fucking moving, c’mob be good for me, Bubs.”

The words have you melting into your sheets as you try to stop your brash movements. The combination of the second finger he added and his tongue working wonders on your sensitive clit has your stomach forming that familiar knot. You grab at one of his arms to signal him but he doesn’t relent.

“Gonna cum ,gonna cum, Fuck!”

“I know Bubs let it out, yeah just like that baby.”

He sits up for where he was laying down, your body still spread out for him as you try to catch your breath from the orgasm. You trail your hand down his toned and muscular abs to his jean buttons, slowly undoing the button and the zipper. Logan looks down at you with a growing smirk on his face as he finishes the job of pulling his pants a little down his thighs. 

“Ya want something, girl? Ya gotta get it.”

You push yourself up onto your knees as he stands at the edge of your bed, shoving down his boxers, his cock bounces to his stomach, a flush coating the tip as pearly white precum beads out. You take his cock in hand, salivating over the happy trail in your view. You pump his cock a few times before you lean in and kiss the tip. You're a few kitten licks deep before he pulls your head back and shakes his head. 

“Another time, girl. I’ve been waiting too long to be inside of you.”

You groan and fall back, letting your legs spread for the man you hate so much. He adjusts himself in between your legs trying to make space for his large figure. He looks down at you, one hand on his cock and the other on your thigh, holding it up to his waist. He strokes at your calf in a fond way, maybe a ‘sorry i'm about to wreck your pussy.’

He lines himself up and swipes his cock head through your folds, letting his head hand forward from the feeling. You wrap both legs around his colossal waist in an attempt to have him sheath himself fully inside you. He laughs from above you and lines his fat tip against your hole. Sliding himself inch by inch, you look down and he’s only half way in and it’s too full. He tries to push in more and you whine, throwing your head back and putting your hands on his chest. He takes a hand and grabs one of your hands on his chest and sheaths himself fully inside of you.

“Yeah Bub? Too much?”

It’s cocky how he laughs above you, laughing at your whining. You shift your hips under him trying to get comfortable. His eyes watching your every move, you kick his thigh, for being cocky and a signal to move. He puts a forearm by your head and another on the thigh wrapped around the waist. He starts slowly moving his hips thrusting in and out. 

“Really Old man, c’mon let loose.”

“You don’t want me to do that, baby”

You roll your eyes from under him, you shove at his shoulders and have him fall on to his back. He stays snug inside you as you adjust yourself on top of him, watching as he gives you a one over, both his hands gripping the fat on your hips. You start lifting your thighs up and down, putting your hands on his chest making an excuse to feel on those godly abs. The grunts he gives from under you are spurring you on despite the burn in your thighs. 

Logan is a simple man, he watches the lewd faces you make as you lean forward, your tits caught between your arms as you bounce your thighs on him. He lets you do your own thing, admiring you. But the primal urge is stronger, he grabs at your hips and fucks up into you. His cock moving at rapid speed thrusting in and out of from under, you keep yourself up on this chest. Your cockdrunk on him. The feeling of him fucking into you is making you dumb, you let your tits press to his chess and attempt to kiss him. You're more so moaning into his mouth than kissing him. You let him switch places, manhandling you onto your knees. He practically mounts you like a dog in heat , his chest pressed against back. He’s got his forearm pressed to your collarbones, hand on your throat, his other hand reaches down to rub at your clit. Your a moaning mess, to fucked out to care about anything. Your whines of Logan's name has him thrusting harder into. He leans his head on your shoulder turning towards your ear.

“Yeah, you close baby, I can feel it. It’s okay Bubs, I'm here, let it out. Cum on this dick Bub.”

You let his words wash over you, coaxing you into your second orgasm. He fucks you through it, before he stills his thrust. You grab his arm- “Inside, cum inside”- he lets out a groan that rattles in your chest and shoots hot ropes of cum inside. Logan adjusts you both to lay down, your upper half on his chest, his half hard cock still cum deep in your pussy. You're tempted to fall asleep at this until Logan opens his mouth. 

“Still hate me, baby?”

You smack his chest not bothering to get up. You let yourself lay on his chest, grabbing your comforter and pulling it up to your chest, the blanket falling around his waist.

“You're still in jeans, on my bed.”

“I'll take em off for round two”

You don’t say anything just letting the both of you bask in the silence, Logan’s playing with your hair. It’s nice, up and until you hear the front door open. You brace yourself.

You forgot to lock the door, and in comes Wade.

“What the FUCK balls, without me, seriously?”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Sooo remember that blupee Wild post from yesterday? I wrote something for it

Forgive the quality I wrote it in less than an hour

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Legend stops short, Wild’s name still hovering on his lips, waiting to be propelled into the indifferent grouping of trees. There are eyes glowing from within the blanket of ferns at his feet. Glowing golden irises rimmed in amber, staring from a heart shaped face of palest blue.

Two antenna twitch. A small nose wriggles.

Legend bends to one knee, holds out a hand.

“Hey there. You wouldn’t happen to know where that crazy cook went, would you?”

Again the nose moves, though this time it wrinkles slightly as though the being has smelt a stench.

“Alright, fine.” Legend sighs. “Do you know where Wild went?”

That earns him some small amount of favor. The creature runs a paw over its face, fluffing up the fur there. Then, with one small hop, it emerges from its hiding place. It settles down on its haunches right in front of the veteran and sneezes.

Legend gazes at it and it gazes at him. It looks for all the world like a rabbit, with its loping gate and compact form. Yet, the appendages atop its head are like vines stretching upward in their ascent towards light. Its eyes are endless pools of molten treasure. They speak of wisdom, of mystery. They are a map Legend has yet to obtain.

Its body is delicate. The magic that waltzes gently around it threatens to spirit it away. But there is a strength about it that calls to Legend’s soul. It is painted in the eruptions of royal blue burned into the side of its face, etched in craggy, sporadic splotches upon its chest and abdomen. It is housed in those eyes of an ethereal stranger, a beloved brother and friend.

Again, the veteran holds out his hand in invitation. His voice is even softer this time.

“I won’t hurt you, champion.”

I know, Wild’s eyes say. Because you’re like me.

Another two hops and he has deposited himself in Legend’s lap. The veteran’s breath catches at this display of easy trust. Long and arduous is the road they walk. Many have been the days when he and Wild have ended up together, two conflicting minds forced to meld into something complementary. But never had he allowed himself to imagine it would all lead to this.

How’d you know?

A soft head presses against his chest. Legend ducks his face into the fur and for a moment, breathes in the scent of bubbling springs and murmuring branches, whispering wind and moist river rocks, moss and magic and autumn leaves.

How’d you know it was me?

He chuckles. Delicate fingers crowned with jewels find the spot behind Wild’s ears and rub there. The champion makes a trilling sound deep in his throat, a melody as pleasant as a bird singing its jovial song amongst the trees.

“It’s as you said. I’m like you.”

There is something about rabbits, he decides, a thread that weaves between their hearts and minds, connecting them in ways far beyond what words can explain. So that they may find one another, helpless creatures though they may be.

He checks over Wild one more time, searching for an explanation to the champion’s sudden disappearance from camp. But there are none to be seen. No wounds. No disturbances in the pattern of quick breaths. No skips in the race his tiny heart runs.

Legend lies back on the firm, packed earth, and Wild immediately readjusts along with him. He curls around himself, head meeting bushy tail in the form of a snail’s circular shell. Legend’s fingers continue their trail along the curving form, silk turning skin soft.

Above them, the trees bow to one another, limbs meeting midway to filter the pale rays of the sun. A leaf flutters down toward them. Its lazy journey ends atop Wild’s body. He doesn’t seem to mind. A tiny sigh lifts his chest. He readjusts, blinks open one eye that probes Legend’s soul.

Hey…thanks, vet.

The veteran grins. “Never thought I’d hear you say that to me.”

There is no bite in his tone. The sarcasm usually biting is gentle, teasing.

The wounds were never outward to begin with. He knows that now. He should have seen it the moment Wild’s eyes grew wide as a memory took over, the moment afterward when his chest had heaved in subtle attempts at breath, and those in the days following when he had walked with slow steps, head bowed, smile a ghost ready to fade and flee.

He doesn’t know how the hero came to take this form. It doesn’t matter however.

Legend runs his hand over the tiny head and he understands.

[mothfables]

@cripple-cat

Four was sitting against one of the trees behind Wild’s house enjoying a book when he heard footsteps approaching.

Most of the time the other heroes left him alone when he was reading, acknowledging his need for time to himself, only tending to bother him if he was needed for something. Whoever it was coming towards him now didn’t seem to want his attention- in fact it seemed like they didn’t want him to notice them at all, steps quiet and careful.

Glancing up from his book he saw Legend, tiptoeing barefoot through the grass towards him.

Legend looked up at almost the same time and froze, the veteran hero’s eyes going wide. After a moment he glanced around, like he was making sure there was no one else outside, before scurrying over the rest of the way to where Four sat. Four noted he was still walking on his toes.

When he reached the smith, Legend didn’t sit but instead swayed in place, licking his lips nervously and not meeting his eyes.

“Uh- um. Could you, um.” He stuttered, staring at his toes instead of looking at Four. He began fidgeting with his fingers, and Four realized they were bare of his usual array of rings, leaving only his heart and green holy rings. “I was, um, w-wondering if...”

He trailed off, voice quiet and shy in a way Four had never heard before from the older boy. His shoulders were hunched inwards and he kept playing with his hands, ears tilted down. He looked... small.

Four tilted his head in thought. Legend rarely initiated interactions outside of teasing or bets, and when he did it was usually confident and sure. He was hardly ever shy, and certainly never so quiet.

The longer neither of them spoke the further down Legend’s ears went. He began to turn away, drawing into himself dejectedly, and something in Four’s chest clenched.

“Hey, hold on. I haven’t said no yet. You haven’t even asked me anything.”

Legend turned back at that, a tiny flicker of hope in his eyes that he was trying hard to hide. “B-but you, um, y-you dun’ like it wh’n people b’ther you.”

Four ignored the odd way he was speaking in favour of giving him a reassuring smile. “Normally, yes, But you’re not bothering me. Promise,” he added at Legend’s doubtful look. “What it is you want to ask me?”

Legend bit his lip nervously. “C-could you... couldyoureadtome?” he asked in a rush.

The smith blinked in astonishment. Legend wanting to spend time with him was already a surprise, but wanting to be read to? He shook it off quickly, though, instead patting the ground on his left with another smile. “Sure. Come sit with me? It’s always nicer to read when you’re sitting down, in my opinion.”

The other boy lit up and bounced happily, dropping down to sit next to Four and drawing his knees up to his chest. Four found where he left off before beginning to read aloud.

A few minutes passed where the only sounds were Four’s voice and the chirping of birds. Then there was a pressure on his shoulder; glancing over, he saw Legend curled up against his side, eyes fixed on the book in his hands. One of Legend’s hands drifted up to his mouth almost subconsciously only to be snatched back down.

The whole thing was a little odd, but it didn’t seem harmful, so Four decided to let it be. He continued reading, leaning his head on the other boy’s and earning a happy little sound. Legend curled closer, one hand clutching at Four’s sleeve as the other came up to his mouth again. He didn’t seem to notice.

[stardewremixed]

Justice for Stardewies

Because people need jobs and purpose...

Jodi

has been a single mom for so long, even though Kent returns in Year 2. She was a Registered Nurse, and replaces Maru at the clinic when Maru decides to go back to school. Jodi starts to feel her confidence grow as she works outside her home. And Harvey is a good boss, letting her work around Vincent's school schedule.

Maru

Inspired by Harvey, Maru wants to pursue and advanced degree in medical technology. With her poor eyesight, her dreams of becoming an astronaut faded. But she still gets to tinker and play with technology, which is something she loves.

Marnie / Marlon

deserves better than a "secret" relationship with Lewis. His family has wealth and historically held positions of power. The Governor is his cousin after all. Still Marnie deserves real "out in the open" love. Marlon asks her out one day after she visits the Adventurer's Guild with the weekly dairy delivery. Their first official date is the Flower Dance. And they dance together for the whole town to see. Lewis is jealous but... he had his chance. #sorrynotsorry

Shane

is sober and working at the movie theater during the evenings. He attends vet school during the day. Shane wants to open an animal clinic, with an emphasis on chickens... 🐔 er... farm animals. And he makes his famous pepper poppers for all town events.

Pam

Pam went to rehab. She is now reemployed at Pierre's. She really enjoys helping customers find what they are looking for, and she joined Caroline's class to get fit. She has already dropped almost 20lbs.

Robin

Robin does so much for the town. She is convinced by the people to run against Lewis. And then she actually wins. Since she finally has help from Alex, Robin's business is booming. She is able to hire on another employee so she can focus on her new important duties as Mayor of Pelican Town.

Linus

Is anyone surprised he actually has money? And lots of it? Linus gets involved with other veterans like himself with much encouragement from Gus. Now with properly flowing taxpayers' dollars, Linus is able to build a tiny Veterans Village for former military men and women to "get off grid," find healing, and a fresh start. Kent gets involved too after he starts counseling for his PTSD.

Alex

Robin hired Alex as a handyman. Alex is surprisingly good with his hands and figuring things out, especially electrical. With no formal training, he can rewire televisions and stereos. At first, he just tinkers in Robin's workshop. But then he starts doing bigger projects. After getting an electricians license, Alex helps wire houses and rewire faulty electrical in other homes and businesses around the Valley. It's blue collar work but it pays really well, and his skills are sorely needed. And he can work as he wants. So he still has plenty of time to toss the gridball around with friends, and take Dusty to the dog park, and even help Granny in the kitchen.

Evelyn / George

Ev still helps out at the community garden. She starts growing spices and herbs to bake in her breads and cookies. Once the Community Center is repaired, Evelyn hosts a bake sale to help with the upkeep. And Haley joins her in organizing a cake walk. George gets motivated, with encouragement from Jodi (since she is a vet's wife), to do the Valley's own version of Special Olympics. Alex helps his grandpa train.

Abigail

finally graduates after six years. She knows what she wants. She is going to pursue a master's in folklore and mythology. While it isn't business like her dad wanted, Pierre is still proud of his little girl. Abi leaves for Zuzu City (on the repaired bus line). She also has an internship lined up, translating manuscripts (since she learned ancient Dwarven).

Sebastian

takes coding to the next level. He finds a partner in Zuzu. They start a tech company together. Seb still comes home on weekends to spend time with his family (he and Demetrius patched things up ever since his stepdad got his official diagnosis as autistic). Seb always brings rice pudding for Demetrius, from the Asian Market he lives above. Seb is also working on releasing his first video game, inspired by his experiences in the mines.

Sam

After the band breaks up, Sam decides to go solo. He leaves for Zuzu City for some gigs. The first weekend he is there, he makes a connection with a talent scout who thinks Sam is really good. Sam starts landing bigger and bigger shows. Next thing he knows, he's traveling the world, opening for big name bands. It is a dream come true. He never stays in one place too long, but that's just what he loves about his "work."

Elliott

publishes his romance novel. And then his editor suggests a series. It is super successful. With his new steady income, Elliott upgrades his cabin to a proper beach cottage. He teams up with Penny to write a children's book.

Penny / the children

returns to school and obtains a proper teaching license. With help from Robin, she opens an after school enrichment program for Vincent, Jas, Leo, and a few other children. And she partners with Professor Snail to offer summer camps on Ginger Island. Penny also organizes a beach clean-up day.

Vincent starts an entomology club with the Prof, much to his delight.

Jas works with Emily to create costumes for a play. The story of the Winter Star is the first show they put on for the town. And this seriously helps Jas' confidence.

Leo repairs the treehouse with the help of Alex. And Pam, who attended cosmetology school, gives him a proper "big kid" haircut.

[cupidsworstcrime]

House x Veteran Fellow nonsense

My brain is tiny, and I've had this sitting in my drafts forever. I might add to it if there's demand, but I don't know lol!

summary/blurb: A new fellow gets hired, shit SWIFTLY hits the fan.

note: its dual POV cause I love house. Word count: 4759

~~~~

Liliya

Being a marine is usually just something that happens when you have a military family. Both parents, grandfathers, great grandfathers, all military. It’s just something that you grew up comfortable with, you expect it, you don’t have any other life plans because you were born to serve. But now I was here. Freshly discharged yet still needed to serve. Be of use.

Med school was a bitch, honestly, but I needed to help people. Needed to be ordered around. Hospitals are like the military, no? Just less guns. Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Meeting with Lisa Cuddy, a dangerously beautiful woman, to see if I was fit to work here. I was standing in her office, hadn’t sat yet, hadn’t been permitted to. Maybe I shouldn’t be putting my weird militant expectations on her, but she was in charge of this hospital, so by proxy in charge of me.  

“You can sit, it’s just an interview.” Her voice was soft, almost motherly. Did she think I was nervous? I mean, I was, but did I look nervous? She was in a white coat, lovely black dress, and heels. Way better looking than I, that’s for sure. I was in cargo pants, a tucked in white shirt, and some boots. I looked stereotypically military, but this was my whole wardrobe. I didn’t have beautiful dresses and heels. Not that I didn’t want to, just haven’t had the time.

I sat in the seat in front of her desk, “Thank you again, ma’am. I really appreciate that you found the time to interview me.” My hands folded politely in my lap. She flipped through my file, leaving us in silence for a minute or two. 

I hated silence, but luckily, she spoke up soon, “And… Your pain management… What are you doing for that?” Ah, the reason I was discharged in the first place. As if on cue, the pain in my ankle started. The left one, the one I didn’t have anymore. 

Pain management? Was she accusing me of being an addict? “Grit and bear it.” I answered honestly. I didn’t want to be doped up all the time, took Tylenol as needed, physical therapy, the works. “Is being… Is it an issue?” My amputation was something that made me leave the marines, I hoped it didn’t affect me now. On bad days, I had a mild limp, on horrible days I needed a wheelchair. The worst of it was the chaffing, the cloth sock of the prosthetic rubbing harshly against my …. Well nub, for lack of a better term. I could still be a doctor. I can still serve a purpose.

She smiled, so I smiled, “Look, I would love to hire you.” Oh… I see… “But the doctor you’ll work under… he likes to perform his own interviews.” She reached across her desk, her hand in front of me as if to comfort me. “I think you are a shoe in, I do. Dr. House is kind of an ass, but he’s the best damn doctor we have. Don’t let him push you around.” She withdrew her hand and scribbled something onto a post-it note. 

I stayed obediently silent, waiting for her to speak again. I never liked speaking without permission, I hated it more than I hated the silence. I looked down at the hands still neatly folded in my lap. I was so focused on my hands, on staying quiet, that I didn’t even hear her speaking until the post-it note was being handed to me. 

“This is his office, I let him know you’re on the way.” I looked up at her, then down at the sticky note, taking it.

“Thank you, ma’am.” I said as softly as I could, standing up and offering my hand to shake. She didn’t take my hand, so I let it awkwardly fall back to my side. “Thank you again, really, I mean it. This is a great opportunity.” As I saw myself out, she had this look of almost pity. It didn’t feel like the usual pity of my past, more like a pity for whatever was about to happen in this next interview.

“Oh and, Liliya?” I turned to face her, “Don’t act so… quiet with him.” She suggested, she knew him best, had to be good advice. 

I nodded, “Yes ma’am.” I said, then walked out, gently closing the door behind me. Don’t be so quiet. Talk to him. I mean, working in Diagnostic Medicine meant talking, I knew that, but speaking felt wrong. 

As I walked to this office, I had this sense of impending doom. Was I going into the right field? Was this for me? Born and raised to serve, never stopped for a moment to think that maybe I was in over my head. I was third in my class, I knew I was smart enough for it, but fuck was I even prepared. I felt out of place walking amongst doctors. Maybe I would get lucky, and Dr. House would turn me away. Wait. I don’t want that. Right? I want this job?

I thought I wanted it. I mean, I just was on this weird thought train about needing to serve. Needing to be of use. But as I walked the halls of the hospital, I felt nauseous. Like really nauseous. God, I want to turn around and go home, nauseous. Where even was home anymore? Jersey? Texas? Kansas? Any marine base?

Through the glass wall, I could see three people sitting at a table watching an older man write on a white board. I knocked on the door as I poked my head in. “Dr. House?” I said softly, everyone turning to me. I felt a light blush creep up my neck and the tips of my ears burned, gently letting the door close behind me. “Dr. Cuddy sent me down here for an interview.” 

My hands were held behind my back, at half attention. I looked at the older man, he had to be House, I doubted he would be a fellow. His eyes were so blue. Like painfully so. My eyes fell to his cane, I tried not to stare, I really did. I’m not gonna be weird, act like I had a weird cripple kinship with the man. But as I shifted my weight to my good leg, I felt relieved. Surely this meant my disability wouldn’t get me turned away. 

“Ah yes,” The older man spoke as he hobbled over to his desk where a stack of files sat, “Military brat, right?”

I shifted my weight again with a wince, “Yes sir.” I didn’t think I was a brat, but I wasn’t going to argue with the ‘best damn doctor in this hospital’.

He opened a file, didn’t look up at me, “Sir. I like that.” He pointed at the three people, two men and one woman, at the table, “Take notes.” I chewed the inside of my cheeks nervously. Why wasn’t he asking me questions? Why did these interviews not feel like interviews? Was this just the most unprofessional hospital? His eyes shifted from the files and seemed to focus on my legs. Oh, he’s at that part of the file then. 

He scoffed, “Wow, does Cuddy think I’ll just hire the first cripple to walk through that door?” His eyes lifted to mine. I figured the question was rhetorical, so I stayed silent, staring back at him. “Speak!” I almost flinched. Right, Dr. Cuddy told me not to be quiet with him. 

I took a breath, trying to stand a little taller, “Sir, I really don’t see why that would matter?” I shifted my weight to my good leg once again. “I promise, it doesn’t hinder me in any way.” That was a blatant lie. 

He rolled his eyes, “That is a blatant lie, I would know. And I still have my leg.” He looked back at the file and sighed, “What does your pain management look like? Any drugs?” 

I cleared my throat, crossing my arms under my chest, “I just take Tylenol if I really need it, otherwise, I just grit and bear it.” I repeated, it seemed to be my mantra. Something flashed in his eyes, almost looked like jealousy. Why was this question so important to them?

“No Vicodin? Ketamine?” I shook my head, and he nodded, “Alright, then I have a question.” He looked at me expectantly, I just looked back, “Oh my god, speak girl! What’s that? Timmy’s stuck in a well?” He said with a glare. Someone at the table snorted, and that burn at my ears returned.

I hated my quiet little habit. “Sorry sir, what’s your question?” He closed my file and walked back to the white board. It read: 

‘Hemolytic Anemia, Clotted Retina, Failing Liver’

“Diagnose it.” He said, gesturing to the board. Hep E was a possibility, lupus as well. 

I walked closer to the table, looking over a blond man’s shoulders. I reached over him, my chest against his back, gently dragging my ringer over the file he held. “He’s 16?”

The blond cleared his throat, “Uh, yeah.” “Been out of the country?” I took the file and leaned back against the table next to him. He nodded and I hummed, “Hep E?” 

House laughed and snatched the file from my hands. “Chase and Brat, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Okay, well that was childish. “It’s not Hep E.” 

“One, stop calling me that please,” He smirked, “And two, what about lupus?”

***

It was not Lupus. I barely even remember what happened. Something to do with termites, a cat autopsy, and House got punched by a father. Very eventful first week. I had someone's vomit on my shirt, my pants had a small tear from an accident with a shovel, I smelt rank, and hadn't left the hospital all week. Felt like home. I got some body spray from Chase and practically bathed in it. I sat alone in the office as I filled out paperwork. I hated the quiet. Hated it. You’d think after years and years and years of constant noise, I’d revel in the silence, but it just made me anxious. Yet, I’m not much of a talker. Is that ironic?

I had music softly playing from my phone, humming along. “Why are you still here, Lassie?” Fucking Lassie, he’s been calling me that all fucking week. 

I gestured at the table, covered in books and papers, “Paperwork,” I wasn’t trying to sound annoyed on purpose, guess it just happened when you don’t sleep. 

“It can wait till tomorrow.” I didn’t bother looking up at him, just kept scribbling away silently. A pair of scrubs was thrown onto the table. “At least go shower,” He said gruffly, “Paperwork will still be here when you get back Lassie, promise.” 

I sighed and reached for the body spray again, “can’t shower here.” I tapped my leg. “Takes so long to take it on and off, I’ll just get this done and go home.” I sprayed the body spray on me and set it down. I looked up at House, under his eyes were red and he was sweating a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. Withdraws, a lot.

I must have made a face because he rolled his eyes, “Pharmacy hadn’t had my pain meds,” I made a soft ‘ah’ sound, and went back to paperwork. “How do you not just… Drown yourself in Vicodin?”  I shrugged, staying silent. I think he liked my quietness more than Cuddy expected. More than he expected. He doesn’t seem like one to have these conversations. Related to his pain meds? “So, you just live like that?” I nodded. “Must be nice,” he said, finally opening the pill bottle in his hand and taking two. I think the silence was a good place for him to just bounce words off, knowing I wouldn't judge him out loud.

“I don’t know if having my purpose in life ripped away along with my leg, can really be called nice, sir.” I didn’t mean to spit it the way I did, but he didn’t seem insulted. 

He smiled a bit. “Angry about it?”

“Immensely.” I said honestly. It was never in my plans to lose my leg 2 years into my military career, and then pull myself through school. “If you’re not angry, you’re not human.” I scribbled my last little notes and closed the file. I stood, “Night, House.” 

“Night, James.” He scowled, “That felt weird.” I shrugged, I was just happy he was calling me by my name, last name or otherwise, over Lassie.

“Can just call me Liliya if calling me a man’s name bothers you that badly.” I tried to compromise. He called a few others by their last names; I understood why maybe he didn’t feel comfortable with mine. My C.O.s didn’t like it either. 

He scoffed, “It’s not that it's a man’s name. I’m not a sexist.” I gave him a look and he raised his hands defensively, “It’s just a friend’s name.” He took another Vicodin and I had to hold back my frown. “You sure we can’t just stick to Lassie and Brat?” I shrugged, going silent once again. 

“Wanna get a drink?” I was surprised by my own question. 

He smirked, “Man, I’m gonna have to stop hiring female fellows if they keep falling for me.” I rolled my eyes and shifted my weight, crossing my arms. 

“I meant as coworkers,” I took a breath, “Look, we had a shitty week, you more than any of us, yeah?” He nodded. “Let's go out tomorrow night. You can always just not come; I don’t mind drinking alone.” And I left. Surprisingly an amputee was faster than a man with an infarction. 

The next night, I may have gotten a little dressed up. Only a little. Used my day off to go dress shopping, picking out a lot of nice clothes for myself. Including a slightly sparkly black dress that went to my mid thigh, three different pairs of black heels, and a handful of makeup and hair products. 

So, I was sitting in a bar, prosthetic crossed over my leg, nursing a rum and coke. I didn’t actually expect him to show up. I heard the annoying beep of my on-call pager and groaned, ‘9-1-1’. “Shit,” I whispered and rushed out. I rang up House, and it went straight to voicemail. “Hey sir, got the page, on my way, but, uh,” I ducked into my car, “I had a little to drink and I don’t have time to change,” I started my car, “Be there in like 15, don’t kill anyone.” And I hung up.

As my heels clicked about as quick as they could across the floor. I tried to ignore the insecurity I had for my prosthetic that my niece stuck hello kitty band aids over to ‘make me feel better’. I pushed House’s office door open, “Sorry I’m late sir.”

“Chase,” House spoke, facing the white board, “Tell Brat what happens when you are late.”

Chase turned to me, and his eyes widened, “Well shit, Liliya…” I tried not to blush as his eyes trailed me. Foreman cleared his throat and Chase seemed to zone back in. “Just… Damn if you’re gonna be late, make sure you’re dress like that I mean fuck-”

“Chase!” Cameron chastised in tandem with Foreman, causing House to finally turn around.

His blue eyes looked me up and down and he smiled. He knew I dressed like this basically for him. “Lassie, why are you dressed like a hooker?” Oh, you cunt. 

My hands folded behind my back, “I was meeting someone for drinks, sir.” Why was I standing at attention? Felt like it. 

“Kinky.” He said, leaning against his cane, “Hot date?” I rolled my eyes, he was doing this deliberately now, the fucker. 

“Date? Probably not.” I walked further into the office, reading the white board, “Hot? I don't know sir, he’s probably older than my father.” I didn’t know if I found House attractive. Maybe? But I wasn’t about to feed his ego like that. He probably wasn’t older than my father, but the way he looked when I said that made me feel vindicated. He rolled his eyes, focusing on the board again. Did me not finding him hot… bother him?

Chase laughed, “You like older guys?” I looked back at him and shrugged. I stayed silent as I took my seat, having talked enough. He nudged my bare shoulder, I just smiled and listened to House as he ranted about the case. I felt kind of loopy. Drunk almost. That didn’t make sense, I had one drink, and I didn’t even finish it.

I must have zoned out because soon someone was snapping in my face, “Earth to Lassie,” the voice was gravelly and yet smooth. I hummed softly and looked up at House with a smile. The lights in the room were off but it was still light outside, “How much did you drink waiting for me to show up?” I figured no one else was in the room, no way he’d be so open if the other fellows were here. I silently held up a finger. “One what? One tequila shot? Jager bomb?” He mumbled, sitting down, lowering to my level.

“Rum and coke.” I said with a soft laugh. I stared into his gorgeous blue eyes, and I leaned in slightly, “you’re pretty.” God, he was pretty, wasn’t he? Those sweet baby blues, stubble I wanted to drag my lips against. Woah there, Liliya, calm the fuck down, holy shit. What's wrong with me? This doesn’t feel right. Something feels wrong.

He smiled and turned away from me, “Yeah right. You’re wasted.” I leaned against his shoulder and hummed softly. 

I had an ache where my left calf would be, “‘m leg hurts…” I whined softly. God, it hurt so bad. Like it was being stabbed repeatedly. I whimpered a little, rubbing my face against his shoulder.

“The left?” He asked, knowing the answer but I nodded anyway. His hand went to my thigh, gently tugging down the sock that helped hold the prosthetic to me.

I giggled through the pain, “Buy me dinner first.” He smiled; it seemed half genuine. 

I heard him start to talk but I was overwhelmed with nausea. “Oh fuck…” I leaned forward, vomiting. At first, I thought it was the alcohol, but then my eyes focused and I saw the crimson puddle below me.

“Oh shit…” I looked up at House, he almost looked scared. He started yelling but I couldn’t quite hear him. My head hurt so fucking bad, my leg was killing me. And there it was, that sense of impending doom. That's definitely a symptom of something. 

“House…” I groaned, feeling arms wrap around me, several arms. “I feel… Fuck, I’m dying…” 

“You’re not dying, Lili.” Chase muttered above me, flashing a light in my face.

I shook my head, closing my eyes tight, “Feel like it,” I frantically tugged at the cleavage of my dress, it felt suffocating. I had this same feeling when I lost my leg. “Don’t… Fuck… Chase…” I Pulled him down by his collar, “If you break into my house, I will castrate you.”

HOUSE

I was holding a leg. Not a real leg. A stupid, metal, steampunk leg covered in ridiculous cartoon band aids. It feels like I am losing his mind, more so than usual. Feeling slightly out of character. And frankly, half pissed. Why the fuck was one of my best doctors currently vomiting up blood and thinking she was dying? Could I even call her one of my best? She’s worked with me for exactly 9 days. Plus she was a marine, Mr. House was a fucking marine. It was infuriating, the way she acted. As if she was bred and raised to be bossed around. Okay, that part I didn’t mind all too much. Sometimes.

I could ignore the blood on the floor, the blood on my shoes, my cane, the hem of my pant legs. What I couldn’t ignore was the makeup smudged on the shoulder of my blazer. She fucking nuzzled me as pain relief. Like a fucking rabbit. An annoying, beautiful fucking rabbit. Obedient fucking rabbit. Wow, Wilson was right, I am an actual predator. This girl was in her 20’s, she’s fucking sick, I’m her boss, and all I can think of is how gorgeous she was in that dress. How attractive it was that she didn’t leave the hospital all week till she was 100% sure that kid would be okay.

I’ve done worse things morally, hell my interns break into a new place everyday. I have Cameron on a weird leash that keeps her by my side with romanic hope, Chase sees me as some fucked up father figure, Foreman is Foreman. But wanting to fuck my employee, an employee half my age, against my desk was forbidden in my fucked up little brain. Great, now I had a headache. 

I threw Liliya’s prosthetic onto the table, it clanked against the glass. I took the little orange bottle out of my pocket and took 2 pills. Dry, the only right way to take the pills that were probably ruining my life, but I liked being in denial. 

I wiped the whiteboard clean, completely dumping the last case. We had a new focus. ‘Hematemesis, sense of dread, amputee(?)’ I wrote out on the board. Foreman was the first to walk back into the room. I leaned against my cane. “Diagnose her.” We hadn’t even run any tests on her. It could have been really simple, but something told me it was more. She seemed like trouble.

Chase and Cameron followed into the room like little ducks. “Uh, I don’t think the amputation has anything to do with her condition.” Chase spoke up. 

I rolled my eyes, “Oh I’m sorry, I seemed to have forgotten to consult what you think.” I glared at the blond rich bitch, “What makes you say they aren’t related?” 

“Well for starters,” I was beginning to hate his accent. “She lost it in the military, mid-service. I doubt shrapnel from 5 years ago really led to  her throwing up blood this morning.” Doubt.

“Was the surgery performed out of the country?” I asked the man who seemed to know all about sour sweet doctor. Am I being possessive? Fuck thats weird isn’t it? I hobbled to the file, still thrown lazily onto my desk. I read through as quick as I could

James , Liliya

Age: 27

Sex: F

Boring, boring, boring, bingo.

Left leg amputation, 6/11/20XX, Tripler Army Medical Center, Honolulu HI

Wow, my birthday and a base my dad used to be stationed at. Awesome, I hate marines. 

“House, it’s been 5 years, plus the tests aren’t even back yet.” Cameron said softly, “She probably could have just had too much to drink.” Okay, well that pissed me off more.

“Yes, Moron, cause I too, get shit faced off one ‘coke and rum’ waiting for my date to show up, just to come into work and throw up blood on my boss’ boots.” I fucking hate this hospital. I took another vicodin. 

Foreman shrugged a bit, “Maybe she’s just a really big lightweight, I mean, she dozed off in the middle of diagnosing the other guy.” I needed a new team. I didn’t actually, I don’t know why they were pissing me off. Is it because I secretly wanted something to be wrong with her? Wanted her to have something terminal and fucked up? Die in 3 days, so I’m willing to fuck my pervy boss, terminal? I’ll ask Wilson later. 

***

“Is it really that bad?” 

“Yes!!” Wilson said ludicrously, “Wanting to… God, House, she’s a kid.” I scrunched up my nose.

“Don’t say it like that, she’s an adult.” She was, a fucking gorgeous one at that, “Have you seen her ass, Wilson? It’s fucking perfect.” I wish I had a chance to see under her dress, I should have gone drinking with her. Damn it. But then would she have vomited blood on me mid-sex? That would be hard to explain. Would we have even had sex? Fuck, we definitely do in my dreams.

Wilson buried his face in his hands, “You do remember this girl is in the ICU, don’t you?” He’s right. I’m being a freak, more than usual. There was something actually wrong with me if I was ever even humouring the thoughts. The fantasies. I’m her boss. And now her doctor. This was fucked on levels I didn’t even think I would have cared about. She was a sweet girl, she didn’t deserve to be trapped in a perverts mind like this. …Well she was already running around in there like a hyperactive rabbit, might as well let her stay up there. God, she was a sexy rabbit. 

Greg, Liliya is sick, stop thinking, you fucking predator. I hated fighting with myself. 

I felt so out of character. Why did this small, stupid woman make me feel like a character in a shitty erotica that all the Christian moms tried to get banned from the public library? Some freak ass’ self-indulgent fantasy. 

I sat in Liliya’s hospital room, sitting in the chair in the corner of the room. I spun my cane in my hands, irritated. Irritated that I was the only one that thought there was something wrong with her, the only one concerned that she had to be intubated, that she aspirated on her own bloody vomit twice in the past three days.  Irritated that my mind was blank, unwilling to risk her health for our guesses, doing treatments that could kill her if we were wrong. 

I didn’t want to hurt her in any way, it's agonizing. I wish I didn’t care that I could separate her from the diagnoses I had to get, but I couldn’t. Every time I looked at that fucking whiteboard, I felt nauseous.

25 years old. Texas native. Born and raised in the South, her military records are pristine. Two years into active service, she was caught in an explosion, resulting in the loss of her left leg below the knee. Multiple surgeries followed, all performed by military surgeons in various tropical field hospitals. 

I tossed the file back onto my desk and turned to face the team. "Field hospitals aren’t exactly known for their pristine conditions. Could be an infection that lay dormant."

Cameron frowned. "But wouldn't an infection have shown up sooner?"

"Not necessarily," Foreman interjected. "Some infections can remain asymptomatic for years, especially if they're slow growing. It’s a long shot, but we should consider it."

I pointed my cane at the board. "Good. What else?"

"Could be related to her prosthetic," Chase offered. "Improper fit, causing chronic irritation, leading to an ulcer or infection in the stump." Haha, stump. 

I nodded. "Get a sample from her stump and run cultures. Check for any signs of infection, bacterial or fungal. What else?"

"Stress-induced gastritis?" Cameron suggested. "She’s been through a lot of stress and trauma."

"Possible," I conceded. "Get an upper endoscopy to check for any lesions or ulcers."

Chase scribbled the orders on his notepad and hurried out. Foreman and Cameron followed suit, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stared at the whiteboard, the words blurring together.

Why did this feel so personal? Why did I care so much about this particular case? It wasn't just the challenge, though that was a part of it. It was her. Liliya. She had a fire, a determination to keep going despite everything life threw at her. And damn it, she was beautiful. That much was undeniable.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Focus, House. She’s a patient, not a prostitute.

The results came back faster than I expected. No signs of infection in the stump. Cultures were negative. Upper endoscopy showed mild gastritis, but nothing that would cause severe hematemesis. We even got her drug tested in case maybe her drink was spiked.    

Damn it. What was I missing?

I stormed into Liliya’s room, the team trailing behind me. She looked up, her eyes dull with pain and exhaustion. I really hated that she was my patient.

She started to sit up, wincing. God, why do I care so much about this woman. "What isn’t in your medical file?”

[transificationbeem]

what was tobias’ initial reaction to sev being trans? cuz obviously we see that they are now in a semi stable relationship where they watch out for each other’s addictions…

Hello!!!

There's a very subtle nod to this in chapter 13, but Tobias is actually queer himself in this fic! He's a bisexual man, which of course does not always guarantee acceptance, but Tobias was almost... relieved? This was (in comparison to magic) a normal kind of strange. It was a queerness he was capable of rationalizing (whereas doing literal magic was far beyond his reckoning and also...frightening, given the dynamic of the household and Eileen's moods). Tobias certainly wasn't the best cis father possible to a trans child, but it was him that gave Sev masculine clothing, for example, and was most likely to respect his identity. Tobias was certainly an outlier in their community when Snape was a child—the Snape household in general was noted as strange and unsavory, but not just because they were a magic house. Tobias, at one time, had himself been that strange Snape boy, who ran off and played with girls (to his parent's own horror!), and didn't quite mesh with the ideas about how gender and sex should work in that time. So when his little girl came to him, and said she was actually a boy? Well, he'd seen stranger, hadn't he?

And it's notable that while Tobias was brought up with some very time period typical views on what women and men should be and do—and how deviating from that was wrong, and shameful—he was also brought up by a WWII veteran who himself was wrestling with all the horror he'd seen inflicted on people thought "lesser," and was taught to keep somehting of an open mind. (You can imagine the kind of complicated and uneasy feelings Tobias has on Severus' own history, given this).

And, well, this is probably about how it would've went:

It's that little spot between breakfast and afternoon, which means Tobias isn't hungover anymore, and hasn't yet started drinking. He should lay off, really, on the drinking. He doesn't like himself, when he does it, but he can't seem to stop himself, and— "...da?"

"Aye?" he says immediately, turning to see a pair of dark, round eyes peeking at him through the doorway. Those eyes examine him for a long moment, before the entirety of her darts through the doorway and around the table, tiny hands wringing, dark brows knit.

"How's today?" she asks, child-like but just a little too leading. He feels something catch, knows what she's asking.

"It's a good day, isn't it?"

"Can I tell you somethin'?" she asks.

"'Course you can, Sabrina," he hauls out a chair and slumps into it, then, before she can protest, he hauls her onto his lap, in an armful of gangly limbs and frumpy, moth-holed jumper. "What's got you?"

"I..." she watches him worriedly, yanking on the ends of her hair, which—

He blinks, and pulls some of the strands out of her little fingers. "...Did you cut this?"

"...maybe," she whispers.

"Ma's going ta be pissed," he murmurs, worry furrowing his brows. "What's this you wanted to say?'"

"Well—" a huff, "What if—what if... I wasn't a girl? Would you of...what would you of felt like, if you'd had a boy instead? Would you have liked him?"

Tobias feels a flicker of surprise, eyes widening a little, but Sabrina shrinks, as he smooths his hand over her thin back—and feels guilt snap through him, at how bleedin' thin she's got. She's so small, and someone so small should still have all that baby fat, no? But she's just—tiny. Tinier than any of the other workers' kids. He hums thoughtfully, and considers her words. "Why you askin?"

"...no reason."

"D'you want to be a boy?" Sabrina ducks her head, eyes scrunched shut, shoulders bunched up. Her hands are white-knuckled, bruised from some fool thing she's done this week. "Hey?" he taps her chin. "We answer our fathers when they ask questions, don't we, now?"

Sabrina's face flushes, ruddy and red, and she says, explosively, "Not want. That's just what I am but I—it's all—wrong!" Then, suddenly, she...he? looks terrified. Sabrina scrambles off his lap, eyes round, beige face very blanched. Her little hands shake, and he tastes bile on the back of his tongue. Knows he did that. Don't know how to fix it, not even a little. Doesn't think that's even possible. "I didn't—I mean—!"

He blinks, shaking away the guilt, useless that it is. Considers this, for a moment. He hasn't known any—well, anyone who's done it this way. He's known a couple women, who's like that, in, well, the less than savory places he'd duck into or sneak off to in his wilder days, before Eileen. And, really, he'd take this over...over everything else gone wrong in their life, he supposes. This isn't screaming and crying and dead eyes and shattered glass, or spontaneous fires, or Eileen hurting Sabrina in ways he can't even—can't do nothing about. Him hurting her, in ways he could probably do something about, but doesn't know how. He trails his eyes over the bruises peaking out of her sleeves and collar. He can't give her much—can't really give her anything—but he could do this, couldn't he?

"So you're a boy, then." He nods. "Good 't know."

"...what?"

"You deaf, boy?" he gruffs, brows raising. Maybe this is just a flight of fancy, maybe it's real—but, well, it ain't hurting nobody. And Sabrina's eyes widen, and then, to his shock, fill with tears. Sh—he darts up and hugs him, and maybe his own eyes get a little misty. Not that he'd ever say.

[faux-parenchyma]

The ending of Joehills first Hermitcraft S10 episode makes everything around the hermits feel so expansive, and yet so very tiny at the same time. I can’t fully describe the sensation it gave off, but it felt so different when paired next to the other first episodes I’ve watched thus far.

Like, we have a man, or rather the ghost of one, given a body within the Juppet after spending a whole season prior being incorporeal. Immediately, said Juppet is thrust into a group challenge, where he would be given proper introduction to how this new body of his works. And he seems to get that down just fine, completing what is tasked of his group, all the while figuring out how these soft-bodied digits can chip away at stone, or maybe the best grip strength to hold his freshly baked bread. Hey, he could even properly wear a helmet- or even better, improperly wear one.

But by the end of his episode, the camera pans out to a birds-eye view. As the viewer, we get a better look of the season-start blank canvas we are all used to as watching veterans. In the center, getting smaller and smaller the more we see this world, is Joe. Things are quieter, and he states he actually isn’t sure what he’s going to build, or where. And, in a sense, it feels as though he there is a lot more than housing that he is unsure of.

It must feel weird for a ghost to be back in the waking world- to inhabit in a tangible form once more, and relearn the fundamentals of what it means to be alive. To me, his season feels like exploration, expansion, whimsy, and simply figuring things out. And I think that’s really neat :)

I’ll probably think some more about the other hermits and what I have to say about them thus far. One episode in and I already have so many headcanons and analyses I want to share- so if anyone is interested I’ll be here rolling in the mind mud

[jungle-angel]

From A Father To His Son (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Despite everything he had been through, Rhett comes to a realization that his family would do anything for you, him and Amy

Warnings: Perry slander, shouting, cursing, mentions of abuse, custody battle, Perry being a total shithead etc. etc. 

Tagging: @sebsxphia @nobody7102​

It was a gloomy, rainy evening, one of those evenings where not a single person would have ever thought it best to go anywhere or do anything. Rain pelted the windows while thunder had begun to roll over Wabang, the chill in the air giving you and Rhett a glimpse of the chilly autumn that would soon be coming. 

Rhett sat at the kitchen table with a mug full of steaming hot cinnamon and vanilla coffee, made just a little lighter by the splash of milk that had come from the gallon jug in the fridge. It had been a long day and an even tougher one. Amy was only a week and a half old, the tiny little baby needing round-the-clock care, but the thought of Perry trying to get at her was always on his mind. Always it lingered like a bad smell, annoying and irritating, gnawing at his bones and his mind ceaselessly. 

The day that you had brought Amy home had been three days after Rebecca had left, not wanting a single thing to do with the family or her daughter. You and Rhett had both felt horrible and yet, you were both at ease knowing that Amy would be better off with the both of you. 

But he also thought back to the days when he and Perry had been children. Rhett had often been left to his own devices while Perry remained under the watchful eyes of his mother and father. Rhett had always wondered why, why they hadn’t paid as much attention to him as they had done for Perry. It was enough to drive him crazy.....utterly, fucking crazy. 

The kitchen door creaked open and in walked Royal who hung his hat on the rack near the microwave. “Hey son,” he said. 

Rhett didn’t respond, bringing the coffee mug to his lips and taking in that warming liquid. “Come back to gimme shit?” Rhett asked him. 

Royal sighed and shook his head. “Listen, Rhett.....” 

“Whaddaya want Dad?” Rhett questioned. “Huh? Still protecting Perry like he’s the prodigal son?” 

Royal snorted a little. “Wouldn’t protect that shithead after what he did.” 

Rhett scrunched his eyebrows together. “Whaddaya mean?” 

Royal seated himself across from Rhett. “Every day I look at that baby upstairs and I think back to you, Rhett,” Royal explained. “The day you entered this world, I held you and made a vow to protect you no matter the cost. When you and (y/n) brought Amy home last weekend, I thought of you.” 

Rhett had never expected to hear that from his father. Growing up, Royal hadn’t been the most affectionate with him.....no, that had fallen on Royal’s father, River Abbott, a salty Vietnam Veteran who had practically taken care of Rhett when Royal and Cecelia couldn’t. To hear it from Royal himself was a complete shock. 

Royal pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket of his coat and slid it over to Rhett, the corner reading the address of the Amelia County Courthouse. “What’s this?” 

“Paperwork for the lawyers,” Royal explained. “Perry signs that and he relinquishes all parental rights to Amy, you and (y/n) get full, legal and binding custody of her until she’s eighteen.” 

Rhett went wide-eyed. “Dad how did you.....?” 

“I’ve known the judge since we were kids,” Royal answered. “Your godfather promised to have Beth intervene if necessary too.” 

Rhett was in shock, complete shock at what Royal had done for him. “Dad you didn’t have to....” 

Royal held up a hand, a sign for Rhett to silence himself. “There’s somethin else too.....I owe you this more than anything.” 

He slid another envelope towards Rhett which was promptly opened. Rhett’s eyes grew even wider than before. “Dad?” 

“It’s the last twenty five thousand you and (y/n) need for the house in Montana,” he explained. “John and I had a good enough auction year that we could pool it together.” 

Rhett ran his hand over his mouth, his eyes beginning to mist over from the tears that were forming. “Dad I.....I dunno what to say,” he croaked.

“Ya’ll don’t have to say anything,” Royal insisted. “You three have been through enough.”

Rhett stood up and soon he and his father both had their arms around each other. “Thank you, Dad.” 

The sound of the porch stairs creaking, suddenly startled them both, but thankfully it was only Cecelia coming in from the barn. “Listen to me,” Royal warned him. “Ya’ll make sure that as soon as dinner’s over that (y/n) goes upstairs and locks herself and the baby in the nursery. I’ve got a feelin he’ll be home later and shit’s gonna hit the fan.” 

Rhett nodded and took the two envelops off the table, heading upstairs to put them away in the little wooden mailbox above his computer desk. He passed through the hall, right by the room that served as Amy’s nursery. Through the slightly ajar door, he saw you standing near Amy’s crib, calmly rocking her in your arms, cooing to her in the soft glow of her little Disney princess lamp that rested on her dresser. Amy looked so delicate and cozy, wrapped in the little Irish knit blanket that you and Cecelia had worked on since before she had been born. 

“Uh huh.....yeah I know.....but your Daddy will take care of that big, mean monster who likes to come around here and snoop,” you told Amy as she cooed sleepily. 

Rhett entered the room, unable to control the smile on his face upon seeing you. “How are my girlies?” he chuckled. 

“Well, one girlie is still having some trouble sleeping,” you answered. “And one has been wanting you all day long.” 

Rhett laughed a little bit, pushing a loose wisp of hair out of his face, drawing you in and kissing Amy’s little head. “Listen darlin,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve gotta tell you something.” 

“What’s up?” 

“Dad told me that after dinner he needs you and Amy to stay upstairs,” Rhett explained. “Don’t come outta here, no matter what you hear, no matter what’s said...lock the door and make sure you’re with Amy.” 

You nodded, not needing to ask any questions. The last time you had witnessed something in the Abbott household involving the huge fight between Perry and Rhett, had been something you wished you hadn’t witnessed. 

************

The kitchen was quieter than it had ever been, the two men dreading what would ensue the minute Perry saw those papers, Royal most of all. He didn’t feel guilty, not at all, but rather a deep sense of tension that left him and Rhett ramped up, the anxiety so noticeable one could have smelled it. 

“He ain’t comin,” Rhett muttered when the digital clock on the stove turned to eight. 

“Just you wait,” Royal said, taking a sip of the coffee in his mug. “He’ll come stompin through any minute.” 

Sure enough, there was the door, creaking open, only to shut again followed by the clunking of heavy boots.....Perry. 

“The fuck is this?” Perry asked when he entered the kitchen and saw the papers on the table. 

“Somethin for you to sign,” Royal informed him. 

Perry snatched the papers off the table, his eyes glazing over them quickly. The silent tension in the room had grown worse, Perry’s jaw clenching and his eyes burning before he slammed the papers to the table. 

“Hell no!” he declared loudly.

“You’re gonna sign those fuckin papers whether you like it or not,” Royal snarled. 

“That’s my daughter......MY daughter!” 

“She’s my daughter too,” Rhett said icily. 

“Fuck you!” Perry shouted. “She ain’t your flesh and blood! Your fuckin wife didn’t birth her!” 

Rhett and Perry lunged right for each other but Royal was quick enough to grab Perry by the shirtcollar and slammed him right onto the kitchen table, the coffee mugs spilling their contents and clattering to the floor. 

“Now you listen to me you shit-for-brains goat turd,” Royal sneered. “You go anywhere and I mean ANYWHERE, near that baby and I’ll fuckin bury you. You so much as TOUCH my grandbaby and I’ll have ya’ll shipped off to the backwoods in another country and see how ya’ll deal with it then.” 

“I’m your fuckin son, Dad,” Perry blurted out. 

“Not anymore,” Royal spat. “I gave ya every chance I could Perry. Enough’s enough. Ya’ll got two weeks to pack your shit and get the fuck outta my house. If ya aren’t out by then, I’m callin Joy to evict your sorry ass.” 

“M’sorry Dad,” Perry blurted out again. “M’sorry.” 

“Don’t you fucking say you’re sorry to us!” Rhett shouted. “You don’t know what either of us has given up to protect your sorry ass or to protect Amy from you! YOU’RE THE REASON AMY DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING MOM!!!” 

Oh did that one shut Perry right up. He couldn’t even form words, much less a coherent sentence. 

“Go get the phone,” Royal told Rhett. “I want Rip, Kayce and Wes all in here as witnesses to make sure those papers get signed.” 

“Oh it would be my utmost pleasure Dad,” Rhett agreed, still coming down from the highs of his anger. 

*****************

Up in the nursery, you sat in the creaky old rocker that had been in the family for generations, gently rocking the tiny baby in your arms as she remained attached to your nipple. It wasn’t easy being on the medicine that stimulated the flow of milk, but Cecelia’s old home remedies had been an immense help as well. Besides, you and Rhett hadn’t been comfortable at all with the idea of Amy being completely bottle fed all the time. 

You tried not to think about the awful shouting and clattering downstairs in the kitchen, right below your feet, hoping it wouldn’t wake Amy. A wakeful little coo escaped Amy’s throat as she suckled away, filling her little belly full of milk to put her to sleep. 

“Slow down princess,” you chuckled, feeling her tug just slightly. “You must be hungrier than I thought.” 

You cringed a little bit when you heard a loud curse coming up through the floorboards, letting out the deep breath you held in. Thank God the door was locked. If anybody had broken in, you wouldn’t have been able to hide properly. 

You quietly sang to Amy, hoping that it would put you both at ease. You had always loved playing “Edelweiss” on the guitar or the little hand harp you had gotten as a wedding gift, the words so happy and full of love, reminding you of your first spring with Rhett and the story he told of his Oma Heidi and her journey to America. 

No sooner had you finished than a soft knock at the door signaled Rhett’s arrival. You carefully stood up and unlocked the door to let him in, a look of victory on his face. 

“Did you do it?” you asked. 

“Papers are signed,” Rhett answered, grinning when your face lit up. 

“She’s ours?!” you suddenly blurted out. “She’s really ours?” 

“She is sweetheart,” Rhett told you, kneeling beside the rocker and kissing the top of Amy’s head. “She’s all ours.” 

You were so full of joy that your eyes began to well up, even as Rhett pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. It would still be a bit of a long road, but at long last, Amy was rightfully yours.....and always would be. 

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Bird

“Have you seen Sky?”

Wild turned at the worried voice, watching Twilight approach him. He felt his own stomach clench anxiously. “No… I thought he was resting in bed? Is he feeling better?”

Somehow he doubted it, what with his brother’s concerned expression and all.

“I went to check on him and he was gone,” Twilight noted, shaking his head.

Wild chewed his lip, brow furrowed. Well, in his state he couldn’t have gotten far. At least they were at the ranch - wherever Sky ended up, it was going to be safe.

“Let’s look for him,” Wild advised, heading around the house. When they reached the main level, they ran into Legend.

“You seen Sky?” Wild asked, eyes searching for clues around the room.

“What?” Legend whirled on them. “What do you mean have I seen him? He’s missing? Is he okay? What happened?”

Wild waved his hands to stop the veteran hero’s frantic tirade. “Take a breath, will you? We’ll find him. He can’t have gotten far.”

“Where could he have gone though?” Twilight wondered aloud. “It’s not like there are places to hide, and the gate out to Hyrule field is locked.”

Legend stiffened, eyes widening in horror. “Oh goddesses.”

“What is it?”

“I think I know where he is.”

Wild grew simultaneously bewildered and impatient at the dramatic tone and pause. Just as he was about to prod Legend, the veteran stormed outside stiffly, and the pair of heroes followed.

They all froze when they stopped in front of the cuccoo coop.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Wild said warily.

Twilight got on his hands and knees to peer in, and he practically wilted. “Great spirits above, he’s in there.”

“What do we do? Is he still sick?” Legend asked frantically.

“Sky,” Twilight called shakily. “Sky come out here.”

Cuccoos clucked practically purred like mourning doves, and a voice sleepily said, “I like the tiny birds.”

Wild looked uncertainly between the others. Even he wasn’t foolish enough to crawl in there.

“Okay. We can figure this out.” Twilight sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face.

Wild knelt down to peer inside. Sky was practically surrounded on all sides by fat, fluffed up agents of destruction.

“Nope,” he immediately said, rising and heading back to the house. “I’m getting Malon.”

[shearlin]

Word count: 2977

An epilogue to 'A Piece of Heart'

First || << Previous

Every journey comes to an end. This one was no different. But there are still somethings to settle before the final farewells. Like items that were rented out that needed to be returned to their rightful owner. Like Legend was going to allow for them to give them back.

Hi :D I was fully expecting to post it in like few months. But as I was working on a different WIP I kept getting distracted writing this instead.

Enjoy :D

Nine portals of swirling white and gold framed in the arches of runes - glistering and icy blue - shone brightly in the middle of the meadow, as nine heroes of courage filled through the sparse trees.

They were allowed some time of reprieve after the final battle, some time to heal, to celebrate, to say their goodbyes.

Small mercies , Legend thought as the little whisper that guided them all here fizzled out to the soft rustling of the leaves. He took a deep breath to steady himself before turning to look around at his brothers, who were talking easily though the final final goodbyes.

This is it . The end of our journey.

He thought he would be angrier. Or more apathetic. That was usually how his journeys were ending so far. Either caught in the staticky fuzz filling his mind, while waiting restlessly for yet another unforeseen catastrophe to happen or in a simmering, directionless anger when faced with that particular kind of loneliness and longing that came with the goodbyes. 

Instead he found himself… calm? Tentatively content, even if a bit wistful. It was… bizarre. He scoffed at his own anxiety and rolled his shoulders, willing himself to relax. Seriously, if his mind could enjoy the ‘sweat’ part of the bittersweetness of this moment, it would be great.

They gathered in the space between the time gates and repeated for a hundredth time today the same plans for the future they shared a million times already in those last two weeks. Maybe no Link was good with goodbyes.

[...]

They stood in silence watching the portals radiating with power, all feeling a slight pull reaching deep into their souls. They would need to go soon.

Four broke the silence first stepping towards Legend and reaching into his bag. “Well, I think this officially counts as ‘the end of all of this’ so here.” He pulled out the Rod of Seasons and held it out for the veteran, “Once again, vet, thank you for everything. I dread to think how this journey would look without you.” And somehow Legend knew he meant so much more than just saving him from the worst of the portal sickness symptoms.

He looked at the item in smithy’s hands with furrowed brows feeling his hands itch. He needs it back. He promised Din he will keep it safe and away from any ill meaning person or being, while Farore re-establishes the Secrets keeping the Oracle Islands safe. He should bag it and as soon as he returns to his house, put it in a basement layered thick with protective and masking charms for however long he needs to, until Din sends for him.

He turned away looking deep into the swirling maw of the portal closest to him. Stretching his senses and focusing on the tiny tug on his very soul he had no doubt about it. They were divine in origin. Hylia Herself sends them their way to take them home safely. What were the odds She would put them in danger the first thing when they’re truly on their own for the first time in months?

… You know what? Never mind, better not answer that .

There was no way of knowing what exactly was upsetting Four magic this badly. Were his shattering scars sensitive to dark magic? Or it was the time-space shift itself, with its unnatural stretch and bend and crush and-

“Um, Vet?”

“Keep it.”

Read the rest on Ao3!