#which she would lie about losing and getting flushed down the toilet so i would give her another one

[rantingofasmallorganism]

Infighting and addiction

Dear endless void that is the internet,

Drugs are a thing that of marvel. Some help brings relief to those who need it. Others cause pain. Marijuana, coke, shrooms, and hell sugar is a types of drug. I can admit I have an addiction issue with sugar and carbs. I can admit that. But how do I help someone with an addiction that won't admit it? A close family friend, someone I consider my brother, is constantly fucking vaping and hitting his pen. I hate it, not him. I hate that he is always high and feels a need for this shit. I hate that I can’t remember a time we last hung out and he was sober. 

I blame myself partially. I let him do it around me, in my car, hell I partook a handful of times myself. I never want to do it again, the last three times I’ve done it have been horrible experiences either during or with the aftermath. But he is never sober. Not around me at least. I’m afraid for him. 

It started with nicotine/Cuvies whatever you want to call it. Now it’s that coupled with edibles and pens. Now he’s looking into shrooms. Which is a fucking felony charge if he is caught with it. He knows this, he knows the risks legally, and medically, and what effects psychedelics could lead to. People have accidentally killed themselves and others because of what they saw/heard/experienced thinking it was real. I don’t want that to happen to him. What makes me mad is that he knows legally what could happen if you are caught with it. He dares to ask my mom if he could send it to our house so his mom and dad wouldn’t find the package. Like genuinely what the fuck! not going to lie I snapped at him. 

I threatened that if that package shows up at my house, I would call his mother and tell her that he was smoking and lying about being in classes and that I would never talk to him again. And yeah I overreacted but the weed was "only now and then" and he would "never be high around his family." Two weeks ago at a family dinner, he was fucking zooted. He was fucking lucky that his mom was too tired from her job to join dinner. She would have beaten him, killed him, bring him back, beat and kill him again.

Then I warned his sister and my best friend/his girlfriend (we are all a friend group) and told them how bad it is to get caught with that shit. I mention to my best friend that she could lose something that she worked hard for if she got caught with it. That she could lose something that she worked for over five years that she just finally got? 

Then his sister calls me and says that I am in the wrong for doing what I did and mentions how my best friend could lose what she worked for, and even brings it up. She then told me that her brother said that he was going to work to get clean and to give him a chance. HE ASKED ME AND MY MOM IF HE COULD SEND SHROOMS TO OUR HOUSE! LIKE, GIRL!

My question is should I risk leaving her in the dark and let the universe unleash a plan or do I warn her what's at risk? Do I let him buy and try everything he wants to try and risk getting something laced or going down the rabbit hole? Do I just stand aside and let him possibly kill himself a risk my brothers' safety and those around him?

I have had to bury my uncle because he killed himself after getting drunk during a depressive episode. I don't want to bury him. I don't want to lose my three best friends. I don't want to risk losing my family both biological and chosen. 

They are my support system and to see this happening and no one doing anything. It scares me and I want to take every pen he has and flush them in a public toilet. I want to place a shock collar on him so when he tries to reach for it, Pavlov his ass out of it. 

I'm worried for him, and I'm mad at him for knowing better but still choosing this path. Yes, I snapped. I don't want to lose him.

I don't know what I would do If I did. I wouldn't know what to do if I lost any of them. I know I went overboard and wash harshly, but I asked nicely. I've pleaded. I've begged. Each time was just shrugged off, and now I snapped. I just don't want to lose him to drugs. 

What I hate is that my worry, panic, and concern were turned on me. "Are you depressed?" No, I'm fucking scared I'm going to lose a family member to drugs. "What do you have against him to threaten him like that?" IF I HAD SOMETHING AGAINST HIM I WOULD HAVE LET HIM BUY IT AND GET INTO MORE DRUGS! I don't know man. I really don't. I just want to make sure that he is safe. 

I'm working on fixing my addiction and compulsion issues. So far I am six days in of no sweets and sticking to my calorie limit. It's been rough not going to lie. I've caught myself reaching for loaves of bread and pieces of sweets. I turn to fruits and protein as healthier alternatives.

My mom says I need to step back from them and let their actions and decisions play themselves out. That I need to focus on myself and my well-being and the slew of issues that I am dealing with. "Let him hit the wall, do not follow him into the wall. But be there when he needs help backup. You can't help someone up if you are at the same level or lower."

I just don’t know what to do.

-your blogger

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

it’s just what we know || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, talks of pregnancy, slight mention of vomit, talks of kissing

word count: 1.6k

summary: having your second child takes its toll on you and your relationship...

Your daughter was three now. And yet it only felt like yesterday that you’d brought her home from the hospital. She’d certainly tired you and Harry out for a good while after she was born. You both loved Vera unconditionally, so when you discovered you were pregnant again, Harry was worried he’d lose a bit of his love for Vera to give to your new baby. He was scared he didn’t have enough love to share between the three of you.

He’d spend his nights awake, his hands resting on your stomach. Anne had assured him that the love one has for one’s family is never limited. There’s always enough affection to go around. Your own father had said something similar, though it was slightly less poetic.

Your second pregnancy had been far worse than your first. You felt constantly exhausted, dehydrated and sick. It amplified Harry’s guilt immensely. He already felt bad about not being able to love Vera the same as he did when she was an only child, but now you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was help you sleep comfortably, fetch you water whenever you needed, hold your hair back when you were disposing whatever food you had eaten into the toilet, and provide you with plenty of cuddles.

When your baby boy arrived in June, neither of you were surprised. Your entire family had predicted a boy because Harry had an older sister and you had a younger brother. So, when George Styles arrived, you’d been overjoyed to finally meet him and to have the rough pregnancy over.

Bringing him home, where Vera finally met him, almost solidified the reality that you and Harry had had a second baby. Vera became very obsessed with him very quickly. She would get up early just to come and watch him sleeping soundly. She’d sit and admire as you and Harry took turns in putting him to bed. She hated it when he cried and she hated it when you or Harry got frustrated with him for not stopping. Vera was naturally curious.

At first, it seemed easier than you’d remembered it to be with Vera. However, it quickly became just as stressful. There was nothing as bad as putting in hours upon hours of effort to seemingly get nothing out of it. The constant headaches and heavy eyes were beginning to feel worse than the pregnancy.

You’d always been aware of how tough pregnancy could be. Watching your aunt go through it when you were younger and hearing Anne talk about it when you first revealed you were pregnant with Vera had taught you that much. But you’d never expected it to be this hard.

As of present, you were balancing George on your hip. He was almost nine months old now. He’d found such joy in tugging on your hair and your ears. You tried your very hardest to ignore his actions as you prepared dinner. With only one free hand, it made it incredibly difficult to cook. But it was your only choice. Whenever you put George down, he began crying. And the last thing you needed to hear was more of his crying.

Vera sat at Harry’s piano, pressing her fingers down on random keys, giggling loudly as she went. The tune emitted was far from pleasant. And with the combination of George’s physical torment and Vera’s masterpiece of music, you were nearing your limit.

You’d dealt with them all day. And it was definitely one of those days. To make matters even worse, Vera was going through her daddy’s girl phase. She needed to know where Harry was and when he would be back and she’d only ever do anything if Harry asked her to. As far as she was concerned, you had no authority in her life whatsoever.

Harry had been at the studio all day with Mitch, writing and toying around with the instruments there. There was only so much he could do at home without being interrupted by a clingy Vera Styles. And, as much as you knew how much his music meant to him and his fans, you just wished he’d take a day to look after Vera and George. You were constantly tired, constantly aggravated and constantly stressed. All you wanted was a break.

You heard the front door close. Harry had always slammed the door, it had just been a habit of his. That was until you first had Vera and he learnt that she became easily frightened by the loud bang and it often woke her up. And when she was awake and on edge, she wasn’t going back to sleep. Which, in turn, meant you and Harry didn’t get any sleep either.

You listened silently as Harry hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes. He wandered into the living room. You heard him gasp, “That’s beautiful! You’re so talented!”

It was swiftly followed by Vera’s giggles. She said something to him, something you didn’t quite pick up. You heard his footsteps as he arrived at the threshold of the kitchen. He grinned, “There’s my baby boy!”

You let out a sigh of relief as Harry lifted George from your arms. You smiled to yourself as Harry peppered George’s face in light kisses. He turned to you, “And my gorgeous Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand with his free one. You smiled, “How was Mitch?”

Harry sat himself down at the kitchen table, tickling George as he did so. He shrugged slightly, “He was good. We wrote a great song today, Y/N. Oh, God, you’d have loved it.”

You nodded, “I’m glad you had a great day.”

Perhaps there was an air of bitterness to your tone. But you couldn’t help it anymore. You were just so tired. Besides, Harry didn’t pick up on any traces of sourness, but a part of you almost wanted him to. Maybe then he’d bring you up on it and you could tell him about all your problems.

You felt almost guilty being the person to bring it up; you didn’t want to burden Harry with what you were dealing with. Communication between you and Harry seemed scarce these days. Sure, you’d have a brief catch up in bed, but half the time, you were asleep so quickly the conversation didn’t last all too long. And then the hours between Harry’s arrival home and when you fell asleep was only filled with Vera and George. You knew that’s what parenthood was about, but you just craved some alone time. Harry nodded, “I did. The band is gonna come down tomorrow and we’re gonna play around. You know, see if we can put some music to my lyrics.”

Slowly, you said, “So, you’re going to the studio tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I just have a really great feeling about this song, Y/N. I mean, you really would have loved it.”

“I’m sure I would,” you said, suddenly filled with the urge to cry. “Can you take over for a second?”

You gestured down to the pan you were preparing dinner in. He quickly shot up, much to the glee of little George. You wiped your hands on your trousers and left the kitchen with your head down. Rushing into the bathroom, you let it all out quietly.

You splashed your face with a bit of water in an attempt to wake yourself up a bit. It was only two minutes later that Harry wandered in, ruining your only time alone all day. Upon realising you were upset, he rushed to kneel in front of you, taking your face in his large hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes large and inflated with sympathy.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you smiled forcefully, kicking yourself internally for that being your default reply whenever you were asked how you were feeling.

“No, please don’t lie.”

“I’m just… just so tired,” you said, feeling lighter already for finally confessing. “I just can’t physically do it on my own. I’m so lonely all day. And I know I’m just being selfish, but I feel like I’m raising them without you. It feels like I never see you anymore.”

“You’re not being selfish, my love. Please, don’t think you’re being selfish for feeling alone. I love you. I love you so much. Okay? I’ll make the effort now, okay? I will. I promise. Please, darling, don’t keep stuff like this to yourself anymore. I need to know. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell the band to have the day off tomorrow and I’ll stay and look after George and Vera. You can do whatever you want all day, whether that be sleep or go see your parents.”

He never failed to make you smile, with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“We shouldn’t even be a big thing. I’m their father, I should just automatically put in as much effort as you,” he said.

You sighed, “Well, yeah, but you are a lot busier than me.”

“I’m never too busy for my three angels. Alright? I love you,” he said softly, kissing you.

It felt as if something within you had reigniting. It felt as if this kind of intimacy had been lost on you and Harry since having kids. And, for a split second, you felt seventeen again. “Thank you,” you whispered, laying your forehead against his.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum. You know I hate it,” he sighed, leaning into your touch. “Now, come on, before we end up with spaghetti all over the kitchen walls.”

[tennessoui]

i really am just so excited for part two of the roadtrip au and knowing it might be from obi-wan's perspective??? seeing obi-wan fawn over anakin while anakin dotes on him?? i'm losing my mind.

hey!!! bless!!!! i know i said it would be part 1, part 2, part 3, but i started writing part 2 and it's like already 2.2k long and they're just in Pennsylvania so i think we should all start thinking of this story as part 1 (finished, posted), ARC 2 (very long, is in segments, depending on what people wanna see and what road trip shenanigans i can think up), and part 3 (tbd)

anyway here's the 2.2k (squick: a/b/o, mpreg)

“Uh, sir? Are you...alright?”

That’s the gas station attendant. Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to thunk his head on the side of the bathroom stall. The only thing stopping him is how absolutely unsanitary it would be, and he already feels dirty enough. He pulls a few more squares of toilet paper from the dispenser and wipes at his mouth.

Of all the pregnancy symptoms he hates, he thinks morning sickness is the one he hates the most. And it’s the one that seems to be, for some reason, sticking around the longest.

He’d never even known how much of a misnomer morning sickness is, but it’s not like it’s only happening in the morning. He’ll feel nauseous halfway through the day, mid-afternoon, early evening.

His doctor and close friend at the hospital, Bant, had assured him this was normal and nothing to worry about. But it’s hard not to worry about it, especially when he lives with an Alpha who worries about everything.

“Just fine, thank you,” Obi-Wan says politely as he flushes the toilet and leaves before he can watch his breakfast spiral down and disappear. That’ll only make him feel even more sick.

The girl wrings her hands as she watches him wash his, and he has to take pity on her. She can’t be older than eighteen. “Morning sickness,” he tells her, placing a hand on the virtually unnoticeable swell of his belly.

“Oh!” she says. Obi-Wan fights the urge to grimace when he sees her eyes dart down to his unmarked neck. He knows how it looks. He knows how it sounds. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s quite alright,” he says. It’s not, but it is. Obi-Wan doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to talk to this girl anymore. They’re passing through a small town in central Pennsylvania. He’s a pregnant, unmated, thirty-eight year old male omega. A rarity. A talking point. He doesn’t want to talk to her, he wants--

There’s a loud knock on the door to the bathroom. “Obi-Wan? Are you alright? Is there someone in there with you? I thought I heard voices. Obi-Wan? I’m coming in, Obi-Wan.”

Anakin.

Obi-Wan gets halfway through drying his hands before Anakin’s there, crowding him against the sink and nosing at his face and neck.

“Sir, this is a bathroom for omegas only!” the gas station attendant protests, but Anakin growls at her.

As much as the pregnancy has made Obi-Wan lose parts of himself to his Omegan side, it’s been ten times worse for Anakin for some reason. As far as Alphas go, Anakin’s always been a thoughtful, respectful one. Quick to anger, perhaps, but never violent or suspicious.

Now it’s like everyone in the world has done something to personally offend Anakin. Everyone but Obi-Wan.

If he didn’t feel such a burning, unignorable need to get to Seattle, Obi-Wan would have called the whole trip off weeks ago.

But he couldn’t then and he definitely can’t now, not when they’ve both taken the time off of work and Obi-Wan’s let his doctor know he’ll be out of the state and they’re already in Pennsylvania.

He’ll just let Anakin do whatever he needs to do to feel alright with taking a pregnant, unmated omega across the country. It’s not as if it’s a hardship to put up with all the scentings and hugs and looming and protectiveness.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Which just makes Obi-Wan feel even more guilty, the way he’s using Anakin like this. His dearest, closest friend, who is helping him in such an amazing way, and every time he touches him, it’s all Obi-Wan can do to not arch up into the touch.

He wishes he could blame it on the pregnancy hormones, the way his instincts are going haywire to keep an alpha--any alpha--close. But it’s not. It’s Anakin. It’s the fact that Obi-Wan is hopelessly, irreversibly in love with the alpha.

The touches and the scenting don’t mean what he wants them to. It doesn’t mean anything, the way Anakin pushes his shirts and sweaters to Obi-Wan’s chest and watches him put them on. He’s an observant man, his alpha. He knows Obi-Wan likes wearing his scent now that he’s pregnant. It’s comforting.

So even though it doesn’t mean anything at all, the way Anakin’s hands roam over his waist and stomach and hips as he growls at the poor gas station attendant, Obi-Wan has to fight to not push back into the touches, to not scent him in return.

He’s afraid once he does, he won’t be able to stop. The thought of it, of marking the beautiful, strong, virile alpha with his smell, is too addicting to ever risk trying.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a bit of morning sickness,” he says lightly, touching Anakin’s chest gently. “She was just checking up on me.”

Anakin glares at the girl and starts to herd Obi-Wan out of the bathroom. “Not hers to check up on,” he mutters, hands latching onto Anakin’s hips and guiding him through the aisles of brightly colored chips and candy.

Obi-Wan thinks that for both of their sakes he should remind Anakin that he’s not his to check up on either, but he doesn’t want to, not when he can pretend for a little bit longer.

“I think I would like to lie down in the back for a bit,” he says, holding his stomach. “Just until we get out of this state.”

Anakin agrees immediately, like he knew he would. “Okay, Obi,” he murmurs, opening the car door for him. They’d laid down their suitcases in the wells behind the two front seats, and Anakin had thrown a couple of blankets over the entire area to make a sort of makeshift nest for Obi-Wan to sleep in should he want to.

They’ve only been driving for four hours, but Obi-Wan already wants to. He’s painfully on edge.

He hadn’t understood how hard it would be to convince his hindbrain and body to leave the safety of their apartment, but all he wants now is to nest somewhere safe for him and the baby. It would have been impossible to do this without Anakin.

“Alright,” the alpha says. “Um. Wait. Here.”

He shucks off his sweatshirt, a faded college one that Obi-Wan’s been coveting with his eyes since Anakin had put it on this morning. “Oh, dear one, no,” he forces himself to say anyway. “It’s December. You need a sweatshirt.”

“I’ll turn up the heat,” Anakin holds it out insistently, stubbornly. “Take it, come on.”

Obi-wan can only make himself hesitate for a second more before he’s snatching the soft fabric that smells like sunlight linen honeydew out of his hands and holding it greedily to his chest. “Alright.”

Under the weight of the alpha’s watchful eyes, Obi-Wan crawls into the backseat and curls up with his head diagonal from the driver’s seat. He thinks it’ll be nice to wake up and see Anakin’s profile whenever he wants to without additional shifting.

“Oh shit,” Anakin curses suddenly. “I was going to buy a coffee.” The alpha pauses, clearly torn between going back inside and not wanting to leave the omega alone in the car. But Obi-Wan knows Anakin, and he needs his coffee.

“Oh,” he says as if he’s just remembering something himself, “can you get me one of those bananas on the counter? I think they’re good for babies.”

That, obviously, changes everything for Anakin who straightens instantly. “Bananas are good for babies,” he declares, nodding his head before narrowing his eyes. “Would you...can I lock the door? I won’t be long. Just for safety.”

Obi-Wan blinks and purses his lips to stop his little smile. His alpha can be so silly. Safety. In the middle of the afternoon in rural Pennsylvania. “Okay, alpha,” he agrees before he even realizes that he really shouldn’t be calling Anakin alpha. Especially not when the other man always reacts so strongly to it.

Case in point, he thinks to himself sadly as Anakin’s hand spasms on the car door handle before he slams it and hustles away, almost at a run.

With a long sigh, he flops back down into his nest and squirms until he gets comfortable. There’s a pillow close to his hand that he hugs to his chest when he realizes it’s Anakin’s pillow from his bed at home. It smells amazing, a mix of both of them together.

Ever since he’d told the alpha he was pregnant, Obi-Wan’s fallen asleep in Anakin’s bed more often than not. It’s a comfort thing, one that Obi-Wan feels intensely guilty about. Surely if he keeps being so clingy and whiny and Omegan, Anakin will get sick of him.

And this is just the beginning of the pregnancy. He knows rationally that Anakin loves him as a friend, a brother, but how long is that love going to last if Obi-Wan can’t get a handle on his goddamn hormones? Anakin hadn’t signed up for any of this. It’s not even his pup. How much is Obi-Wan willing to put him through just because he can’t imagine a life without the alpha in it?

Wouldn’t it be the best thing for the both of them to cut their losses now? Bail and Breha had told Obi-Wan he could move in with them for the duration of the pregnancy if he needed to. The only thing that stopped him from saying yes immediately had been the hope that Anakin would be willing to stay with him, keep living with him even after he’d fucked up so much.

And the alpha, by some miracle, hadn’t left, hadn’t moved out. But Obi-Wan can’t shake the thought that he will soon, that this will all get to be too much. Obi-Wan’s omega whimpers at the back of his mind at the idea that one day the alpha will be gone.

The scent of distressed omega fills the car as Obi-Wan feels his bottom lip start to wobble.

Alright, the influx of hormones that are wreaking havoc on his emotions is probably the pregnancy symptom he hates the most. But morning sickness is still up there, too.

He sniffs into Anakin’s college sweatshirt and tries to think happy thoughts. He shouldn’t make Anakin worry about his emotions when he’s already spending so much time worried about his physical health.

How much is Obi-Wan going to take advantage of Anakin’s kindness?

The doors unlock with a beep, signaling his alpha’s return to the car.

It doesn’t take Anakin even a second to catch onto Obi-Wan’s recent spiral of emotion, but at least he won’t know why unless Obi-Wan tells him.

“Obi?” he asks frantically, as soon as he opens the car door. “Obi, are you alright? Did something happen? Did someone see you--?”

“Put the coffee down before you spill it,” Obi-Wan instructs after peeking out of his sweatshirt haven. “I’m alright, Anakin. It’s just the hormones. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Anakin shakes his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The statement pulls a wry smile from Obi-Wan. “Oh, I can think of a few things,” he murmurs, touching his belly with a pointed, gentle hand. Before Anakin can say anything about that, he continues quickly. “I was just wondering about something, I’m fine, really. Really.”

And then, knowing he shouldn’t but also knowing it’ll distract Anakin enough from this line of questioning, he tilts his head back to expose his neck and says, “Can we drive, alpha?”

The coffee cup still clutched in Anakin’s hands bursts open under the force of his grip. He really should have put it down.

Anakin curses up a storm as he shakes the hot liquid off of his skin, and Obi-Wan sits up worriedly. Anakin was bothered so much by Obi-Wan calling him that that he accidentally hurt himself. No more, the omega resolves. He can take a hint.

“Are you alright?” he asks, grabbing at Anakin’s hand to examine the red skin.

“I’m fine!” Anakin yelps, jumping away. “I just--I’m just going to go wash this off. Um. And get more coffee.”

He slams the door shut, and Obi-Wan wilts as he watches him go. He can’t even follow after him because Anakin’s locked the doors with his car key. He’s done enough already.

“Oh baby,” he tells his stomach. “I don’t think I’m ever going to have that alpha figured out.”

The baby is still and, of course, silent, but Obi-Wan takes comfort in their presence anyway. They can’t leave him. Not yet, at least.

Gingerly, he maneuvers his way out of his nest so he can reach his messenger bag he’d left in the foot of his passenger seat. It takes some finangling, but finally he’s able to fish out his headphones. As he resettles into his nest, surrounded on all sides by Anakin’s scent, he notices the bunch of bananas thrown in the driver’s seat.

Obi-Wan snorts at his silly alpha, but can’t deny that he’s touched at the same time.

It’s extremely easy to find the track he wants to listen to, what with how often he listens to it these days. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that can get him to fall asleep.

He pulls up the downloaded homemade album Anakin had given him for Christmas four years back. When he presses play, his alpha’s deep melodic voice spills into his ears.

“Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote, the droghte of March hath perced to the roote…”

Of course he can’t be sure, but he’s fairly certain he’s asleep by the time Anakin comes back to the car.

[multiplefandomsblog]

your roommate hcs are so cute, can i request for naib, demi, tracy, andrew, kurt, patricia, and victor?

:0 holy crap yes! I’m so glad you enjoyed the roommate hcs!! Me and the other mods hope you enjoy these! Thank you for requesting :))

(i added melly because why not? lmao hope you don’t mind.)

Part 1!

Naib Subedar

This man deadass didn’t know you were living with him

Even when people told him about it, he wasn’t rlly paying attention and didn’t rlly care

Your stuff in his room? He thought it was his or someone just broke into his room and left it there

When he saw you on the toilet however, he just freaked out.

“Why the hell are you shitting in my room!?” “Your room? I’ve been living here for 2 months!”

Once he found out you lived with him, he made sure you knew what was his and what was yours

also, since he’s very protective of his things-- you being one of them-- he would totally get jealous if he caught you tallking to someone that wasn’t him.

he would probably give you the silent treatment and act like a pissy baby

He hates it when you touch his stuff

especially his photos, the photos were special to him because they were of him and his army friends.

You’d sometimes catch him looking at the photos with a longing in his eyes, it was highkey sad.

having you live with him meant lots and lots of training

he made sure you were always prepared for matches and that you don’t get downed early

when you got downed early however, He would scold you but he would still rescue you anyways because he’s soft

“You’re such an idiot, you’d better do better next time! Or else I’ll kick your ass.” 

one time he got cocky while kiting because you were watching him

he forgot to turn on his elbow pads and face palmed into the wall.

“...You saw nothing.” He turned around, a bit woozy from hitting his head on a wall. He flipped the hunter off before stumbling wooshing away

When you first get to know naib, he’d probably come off as intimidating and menacing

but once you get to know him--the real him--, you start to understand that even though he may be tough on you, its because he wants you to be the best

he has good intentions

During matches he’d let you handle yourself and made sure you didn’t rely on him too much

One time you needed to shower but you ran out of your shampoo so you used his.

When he questioned you, you simply responded “What? You don’t need it anyways, you’re bald!”

He didn’t rescue you the next round.

should’ve seen that coming

though he forgives you when you braid his luscious long existent hair for him

Kurt Frank

The amount of times you almost stepped on this man is astronomical.

he would constantly be in his tiny form because he would lose a lot of his things

his tiny form helped him find his things easily

Though when you first moved in with him, you had no idea what his ability was

so when you first saw a tiny version of your roommate you thought he was just a weird doll

until you heard him say a tiny, “Hey can you move your ginORMOUS foot? You’re stepping on my book.”

You fucking screeched and took off your shoe to try and kill him

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

After he explained to you about his ability you calmed down a bit and spared this tiny man but only this time!

Frank loves books, he probably filled your shared rooms with stacks on stacks of books

You’d often see him tiny, waving at you while you’re decoding

Once you overhead Kurt arguing with First Officer over who was the rightful owner of some sort of treasure map

They fought for days,

kurt would constantly complain about it to you

turns out it was just a game on the back of a Cereal box.

sorry this is short like kurt

Tracy Reznik

Would be a little awkward at first, but the awkwardness slowly fades away when you both make bad jokes

she gives me childhood best friend vibes

Has her doll sitting in the corner of your shared room room, it’s lifeless eyes scare the living shit out of you in the dark you try not to make eye contact, afraid it’ll curse you or smth

if she was mad at you she would move the bot in a way that looked like it was flipping you off you off in your direction before you went to bed.

Always making little robot things that are super fun to play with

Loves sharing her things. Has no problem with it

you wanna wear her clothes? sure

you want to wear her underwear? evEN BETTER-

Pulling all nighters, trying to get her machines to work like how she wanted it to work.

Would live off of kraft Mac n cheese and junk food in the modern day

Pretty hyper, chugs pink monster energy drinks while pulling all nighters, also, in the modern day

would probably be a bruh girl

Her room is a mess, covered with blueprints and scrap metal

her room is practically a safety hazard

Sometimes she dresses her doll up a bit, putting wigs or her old clothes on it (which scares you half to death)

Once she made her doll dress up like her

and you almost went up to it to ask what it wanted for dinner.

Has a photo of her and her dad

You never wanted to bring it up, worried it might make her upset :(

Sometimes she’d feel really guilty about being downed in the first 30 seconds

please comfort her, she feels super bad

She always relies on you to rescue her

She gets really happy and thankful when you body block for her but she still gets a bit concerned when you do it randomly

“i wasn’t even kiting-” “Protecc the mecc.”

Demi Bourbon

Always out at the bar

Smells like alcohol constantly

tipsy 24/7

she’s never 100% sober

You have to hold her hair out of her face when she comes back to your shared room to hurl

Likes bringing back hard vodka or weird flavoured alcohols back for you guys to get wasted try together

Room is bit cluttered, but she doesn’t have much in her room since she’s always out in bars or matches

Usually latches onto you like a parasite when she’s drunk.

it gets a bit awkward when her face is a bit close to yours,

“Are we about to kiss right now-? BLeurghgrhgherrgh.”“...*audible sigh*”

You’d go to her expecting her to heal you like a normal person but no

instead she shoves dovlin down your throat

She likes to do your makeup, and always adds a matching beauty mark

unless you don’t wear makeup, then she’d ask you to do hers 

always loves how she looks afterwards

more than sometimes demi would get into bar fights, 

so you know she’s about to throw hands when she starts takes off her earrings-

10/10 would fight for you <3

She’s gives me cool wine aunt vibes

Probably a lesbian too (check out our Demi smut fic ;))

Or bi, idk

Just straightn’t

She’s really good at hyping you up, especially when you’re taking shots

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG-”

Andrew Kreiss

Would be very shy at first, opens up a little when you get to know him

Totally a night owl, can’t sleep at night from all the guilt and “what if’”s

if you see this baby awake at night, hug him, he really needs it

You’ve never seen the other side of his face

How does he see with hair in his eyes?

He’s albino, which is super dope

Sometime you fear he’s thinking about burying you

You always see him thwacking Luca with his shovel

Barely talks

Room is moderate

He doesn’t want you to find out too much about him

He may seem bland, but he loves sweet food

You’d bake him cookies and other sweets

He’d act as if he’s not embarrassed and brush it off

“Are you blushing?”“No, I-I’m sunburnt.” “On your face?” “....I stare into the hot red sun sometimes because it eases me.”

to keep his lie going, every time he catches you staring at him he would fry his eye balls by staring into the sun until you left

partially the reason why he can’t see well

When he’s not looking, you stare at him while he’s eating the stuff you made because he looks so happy :’)

One time you found him down in the dumps so you made him a cup of coffee, and when you handed it to him you said-

“Depresso espresso?”

*sniff* ”..are you oka-” “IM NOT CRYING, YOU ARE”

he actually cried

it was such a nice gesture(?), that he started ugly crying

You’d ask him if he wanted hugs during matches when you see him get stressed

He’d be flushed and kinda confused

hug... him? why tho lmao

he’d definitely agree tho, to be fair, with some hesitation 

if y’all ever cuddled in bed, i feel like he’d be a little spoon

poor boy needs the comfort, he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to be little spoon tho

he just wants to be close to you

Victor Grantz

You love playing with his dog, Wick

Super nice and polite, but a little guarded

The type to be too afraid to call people out when they do something wrong but would totally trash them in his head

You write him little letters everyday and leave them on his bed to make him happy :))

He’d a be a little spoon

Wick would always join you guys while cuddling

Kisses would be soft and gentle

Usually sends you the first letter in matches

Loves to cuddle

He bb 🥰

You always get him a birthday present AND a Christmas present

You also get a gift for Wick

He loves giving you surprise hugs

Likes to read with you while cuddling

Literally a cinnamon roll

Once he was eating a cinnamon roll

And you whispered

“C a n n i b a l i s m .”

He was very confused

and kind of scared- were you going to eat him?

Patricia Dorval

Room always smells like herbs

She could literally smoke weed and you’d think it’s some magical healing herb

it magically makes you feel better

Always there to stun the hunter when you’re ballooned

The mature one

Her room is organized, with boxes labeling what herbs and magic stuff that are in them

You were cooking dinner for the day and you accidentally used one of her fancy herbs in your soup

She didn’t realize until she tried the soup

She wasn’t mad just disappointed

She lectured you on how you shouldn’t touch her stuff or use it for cooking

Gotta admit tho, the soup was pretty good

she acts like the mom everyone wishes they had

totally the type to be like, “dude we should think this through.” before doing something risky

and then five seconds later, “cowABUNGA MY DUDES”

one time she caught kreacher leaving the mens washroom without washing his hands

seeing as she was the mother of this manor, she had to protect her children from diseases

so she yeeted her monkey skull at kreachers head, cleanly knocking him out

and everybody cheered.

Melly Plinius

When you heard melly was going to be your roomie, you couldn’t have been more excited.

you finally had a victim for the many insect pick up lines!

So you decided to make some good first impressions by waiting for her in your room.

so when she arrived to your room and greeted you, you happily greeted her back, and slipped in the pick up line.

“Hello, my name is Melly. I believe I will be your ro-?”“Yeah nice to meet you too, say, what do bees make?”

She kinda thought you were a bit rude so much for first impressions

“...Erm, honey?” she replied hesitantly

“YES DEAR?” 

... okay maybe you weren’t thaaaat bad.

after that she kind of developed a teensy crush on you 

so it was hard living with you because of her crush, since she was constantly flustered 

you loved her reactions, she constantly got red.

it was funny watching her try to keep her cool and fail.

[oingo233]

Rapture is a Boy (5)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior?  And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader (Neutral)

Warning: angst, cuss words, self-doubt and self-hate, mention of cheating, lotsss of angst in this one, maybe even more than before. 

Authors Note: Now, this chapter is a bit on the longer side but it is my favorite one so far.  We get POV’s from Remus, you, and Sirius(excuse how much there is of Sirius, it’s not entirely intentional he just owns my heart), each filled with ANGST.  And the lack of communication and the full throttle of angst is almost painful, but oh so juicy.  I hope you all enjoy it, only a couple parts left, or one, until the end yall!  I love you so much!  Sirius POV in italics. 

Word Count: 3k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

                                                  Part Five

                                        ****Letters To My Love****

Remus POV

Breakfast was over by the time Remus made it back to his dorm, but he didn’t leave to go to 1st period.  Because on the endless and lonely walk back, his mind began to spin.  He knew he wasn’t a cheat, but he was a liar.  He lied to you about his being a werewolf for years because he was petrified of what you’d think of him when you found out.  That you’d stop seeing his scars as beautiful stories but rather the makings of a monster. 

 He was more of a beast than he was a man, and for one night each month, a beast was all he became.  How could you love him knowing that? Remus had yet to stop pacing the length of the boys dorm, ignoring the way little sticky notes on the walls with prank ideas came twirling down with every gust of wind Remus’s sharp turns created. He was a storm.

He repeated this thought for the better part of 1st period.  How could you love him?  You won’t love him, he tells himself, you never will, Lucy said it herself, he was just a disturbing truth. The thoughts made his stomach lurch.  You will never love him again.  These horrible, tantalizing thoughts were accompanied by beautiful moving pictures on his wall, which his eyes darted to every second despite how miserable they made him.  

One picture was a large polaroid of the two of you laying on the common room floor, while your friends are all laughing around you, your arm was wrapped securely around his shoulders and he is laying his head on your chest.  He was fast asleep, but a ghost of a smile was painted on his lips, your head was leaned back in laughter.  While the picture moves, you only seem to laugh harder and Remus shook, his smile growing ever larger as he awoke to the sound of pure joy.

You will never love him again. With that heavy thought, and another glance at the picture he rushes to the bathroom, just in time to find the toilet, as he vomits into it.  Utterly sick and riddled with anxiety and self-hate, but so much anger filled him.  Why did Lucy have to ruin everything?  Why did you have to leave him?  Why did he have to be such a fucking monster? Why’d he have such god awful luck!

Sirius finds him in the bathroom, sobbing for not the first time that morning nor the last. Sirius rushed over to him, patting his back as he choked up extra pieces of last nights dinner. Sirius forgetting to retrieve his class book he forgot this morning, and was excused from class to quickly get.  Herbology can wait, Sirius wasn’t going to spend his future with plants anyway.

“Remus, what’s wrong?  What can I do?” Sirius knew it was about you, but why was he so sick?  Little did Sirius know, that love and heartbreak is both the enlighting of the heart, and the sickness that plagues so many.  

Remus was not immune to such poison, his strength lies elsewhere, it lies in the mornings after full moons and the steadiness of his hands before.  It lies in his courage, in his determination and empathy.  It lies in his silver tongue, but his strength does not belong to his heart because he gave his heart to you so long ago.  And perhaps you gave him the greatest strength of all, love. Love, love, love, you gave it all to him and more.  Now he was left empty and he felt it now in his stomach as much as he did in his heart.

“I am alone Sirius.  I was alone in the room, then I saw our picture, (y/n) was laughing.” His voice cracked, fighting a sob. “They are the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen Pads...Pads do you think I told em’ that enough?  That I love them?” Remus then turned to Sirius with the most gut dropping look of remorse, with a breath to match.  Sirius nodded fervently, not sure how else to comfort a person in such a state. He rubbed circles on his back and reached for a tissue. 

“Yes Moony, we all heard you say it a million times.  But...Moony it isn’t over.  Lucy lied to them, if you are honest -and I mean fully honest about everything- you two will be one again. Practically married again.  So, gather yourself Moony.  I will wait with you till the bell rings, yeah?” Sirius hands Remus the tissue and smiles down at him, trying his best to be encouraging Remus knew, it was the same smile Sirius gives him after hard full moons and the whole lot of them want to stay in bed.  

But it did not work, Remus’s whole body sank into the floor as he wiped at his mouth.  Sighing at the mess he was, flushing the toilet he stands.  

“No. I can’t tell them-”

“Remus-”

“No!  Leave it alone Sirius, you don’t understand.  (y/n) deserves better than...than this this thing that I am, and will always be.  This monster.” Remus throws the tissue down and storms out of the bathroom, back into the expanse of their room and now flouncing his arms around as he speaks.  Voice thick with emotions.  “Do you think they’ll still love me after they know the truth?” He sneers, almost laughing humorlessly to himself.  Sirius stared at him in horror, still in the doorway of the bathroom.

“They’ll leave me Sirius, I would lose them twice.  Twice!  No,” Remus shakes his head, “Better I let them go now, I’d rather not go through this whole ordeal twice.” He motions to his vomit lined collar and messy locks.  “Better (y/n) hates me for a lie, than the truth.”  And that was the end of it.  Remus turned his back on Sirius and began to pull clothes from his drawers, deciding that it would be best to go to second period.  If he was to get over you, he must start soon.

Sirius was left speechless.  Remus was angry, that was clear to see but he was often the only one who could get himself out of these ruts of self-hate.  Him and you of course.  So Sirius got his almost twice forgotten book and left.  Before he left the room completely he turned in the doorway to say something to Remus, but he only watched as Remus softly tore the photos of you off of his wall, Sirius shut his mouth and left.

Your POV

The bell to second period rang through loud and clear, yet it wasn’t until the movements of the students around me, rushing to be free from History of Magic, that I began to move myself.  Even then my movements were slow, sluggish and reflected the droopy feeling of my heart hanging loose in my chest.  Like a portrait hanging sideways on one of the hallways, knocked loose by a groping couple, but my heart was knocked loose my the image of Lucy and Remus I’ve spun up in my head.  Oh, I can just picture them together, so clearly.  

His large hands roaming the plains of her back after making love, tracing words mindlessly as he has once done to me.  His lips glued sleepily into the crook of her neck, as they cuddled after a long school day...just as he once did to me.  It’s only been a day but my fingers are twitching to cling onto his and never let go.  To hug and grip him, and my lips...well they tingle at just the thought of his kiss.  My whole body abuzz with the idea of Remus, it has not yet caught up with my head, it does not yet seem to realize that Remus is no longer ours to hold and feel.  He is no longer mine.

I finish packing all of my belongings into my satchel and hug it to myself instead of around my shoulder and waist like I usually have it. I thought this class would be much harder than it was, considering it is the only one I have with Remus today, but he never even showed.  Coward, the bitter side of me thought, fucking coward.  But I nonetheless picked out double the pages of parchment, and never once raised my head from the block of wood that is my desk.  I was too focused on taking double the notes, both just copies of one another.

Now, as I walk out the door, not missing the way our professor seemed to pity the sullen look on my usual bright face, my only thought is on finding Sirius.  Things have been tense between me and all The Marauders, but I like to think Sirius and I, though on very tense terms since our fight, are more amiable than James or Peter and I.  

I was knocked off focus, and quite literally, by a blushing first year girl. “M’ sorry,” She mumbles, looking up at me like a scared mouse.  I quickly glance up just in time to catch the retreating figure of a running Lucy, knocking even more people along the way. 

 “S’ alright, wasn’t you,” I smile sweetly at her and that seems to calm her nerves, she walks off with a little smile.  But I was left with a rather large frown, was Lucy off to see her boyfriend, Remus? Is that what they are now?  The thought made me sick, and the words made me even sicker.  But there was little time to dwell when in the dwindling crowd I caught sight of a tall man with the messiest bun I have ever seen.  Yet, Sirius pulled it off, I almost wanted to roll my eyes, he can pull many hairstyles off (many of which, I myself can not).

“Sirius!”  I call, flapping a stack of paper in the air while trying to make my way through the crowd and towards him.  He tells some friends of his from 1st period to go ahead, and waits for me with a tight smile.

“(y/n),” He greets, rather stiff.  As if this whole thing was my fault, and we didn’t just have our whole friendship break through last night.

Sirius was staring down at you, soaking in the sadness of your eyes and the exhaustion shown through crinkles on your forehead.  He took quick notice of the wrinkles in your outfit, and the totally clashing colors of the clothes underneath your robes.  He wanted to frown, usually your outfits are well put together.  But then again, Remus stormed off in his pajamas this morning, guess heartbreak makes you do even crazier things than love itself. But either way, Sirius felt awful after your argument last night and was having a rather difficult time expressing his emotions, so instead of apologizing like he knew he should, your presence just made him feel uncomfortable.  A reminder of how he failed both his mates when it came to this whole breaking up thing.  He regard the stack of papers with a raised brow.

I shove the papers into his chest, he cups them stiffly with one hand, peering down at them quickly and titling his head down at me in a frown.

“(y/n)...” He starts, but I cut him off.

“Before you start Sirius, you should know that Remus missed a very important class this morning,” I say, rocking on my heels and oddly nervous.  A person can only take so much rejection and emotion in one day.

“But...why?  If you think he cheated on you, I mean,” Sirius uncomfortably held the papers, waiting for me to respond.  But I drew up blanks, why did I write him notes?  Why did I go through the trouble of writing till my hand ached and protested?  Was it because I still loved him? Yes, but also it was the way I dreamt last night of our first kiss and then the way he stumbled up the stairs with James, crying.  It was guilt.  But then I was angry, fuck this, I think, he doesn’t deserve to pass History, prat should re-take the whole boring class ten-fold!

“Nevermind Pads, just give them back,” I growl, tearing the papers from his hands and nearly ripping them.  But then the wind seemed to remind me of how it is the season of the N.E.W.T.S and Remus so long ago said that maybe History of Magic will aide him in his test.  I growl again and shove the papers back into a surprised, and quite frankly annoyed Sirius.  His chest was really starting to hurt.

“No, you must take them.  Give them to him...” I can’t bring myself to look at Sirius, oh what he must think of me.  Such a silly girl to tend to Remus after all that he has done to me.

Sirius glanced down at the papers, your handwriting clear as day and neat.  You clearly tried to make it easy to read, and the notes were well taken, informative.  He looked between you and the papers and fought a smile.  Even a blind fool could see how much you still adored Remus, but then he thought back to the conversation he had with Remus this morning. His heart overcame with something that felt all too much like real, physical pain.  Sirius hands began to shake, how could Remus let you go. You’re one of the best things that happened him. Then another thought occurred to him, how was Remus to get out of the dorm again, or even smile again after reading your notes?  It would break his heart all over again.

Sirius shook his head at me, placing the papers into my hand and ignoring the dumbfounded look on my face. “Merlin (y/n), are you trying to bloody kill him?” He says, addressing my notes and the sweetness behind the gesture.  Perhaps it was too soon.  But I was prepared.

“Oh, shove off it Sirius.  My name isn’t even on the parchment, he won’t know it’s from me.  Just say ya got a friend to take ‘em for him, yeah?” Sirius still looked uncomfortable by the matter.  I cut him off before he even began, I could see him thinking.  “Don’t want him failing N.E.W.T.S do ya?”  Sirius takes a deep breath and tucks his lips in a disapproving frown wordlessly taking the papers and stuffing them in his bag.

“ave’ a good one!”  He calls over his shoulder, almost wincing as he spoke, it was second nature to call such a thing in parting with a friend, but he was unsure of your friendship at the moment, and it was quite clear you weren’t going to have a good day.  He turned to you with a tight smile, and loosened up at your own large smile.  You finding the situation with an almost bitter sense of humor but humor nonetheless, he thinks to himself “good lad.”

The both of you part ways, reminiscing on easier times and missing them dearly.

Remus POV

Remus sat in his bed to study, which none of the boys do because they’ll fall asleep, and they usually did it together on the floor in a heap of papers, books, and spilled ink.  But tonight Remus grew rather somber as Sirius handed him a collection of notes from 1st period.  “aye, a friend wrote em’ for you.  N.E.W.T.S comin’ up n all.” Sirius muttered, slowly placing them atop Remus’s chest, not looking him in the eye. Remus sat up in his bed to examine the papers, his hands shaking and crinkly the edge.  He knew.

He quickly grabbed his parchment, and book, quill and ink before closing his bed curtains.  He then proceeded to cuss and scream(more of a groan) under his breath.  Of course he knew the notes were from you, it was silly of you to assume he wouldn’t.  He long ago memorized every curve and line in your handwriting.  Why did you have to care about him still? Why did you have to be so sweet and perfect?  His heart wanted to run away to you, but he tried to focus on other things.  But his mind went back to you once again, like a broken record.  He remembers all the letters you’d write him, all the things you’d say.

He first memorized your handwriting over the summer after first year.  He got several letters from James and Sirius, one or two from Peter, and one every 2 weeks from you.  You adored hand written letters, and so he came to love them too.  Then again 2nd year, then 3rd and 4th your owl came to his window time and time again, always sent off with a letter of his own writing.  But 5th year, the year you two started dating, your friendly letters changed to love letters and it was those ones he clipped to his wall or kept in a special drawer, never throwing out one.

On particularly difficult nights, like ones before and after a full moon, when his body was drained and he was desperate for the warmth of friends and the dull ache to leave his body, he would pull out the letters his friends wrote him and read them.  Then he’d pull out every love later you sent him and read it.  He’d walk over to his bed and re-read them a million times, relaxing into his comforter and sighing with the memories of you that overcame him with each word like tidal waves. He’d hug them to his chest, then pull the next one out to read, all with the softest smile.

His pain long forgotten, he’d fall into a peaceful slumber with parchment and letter sprawled all around him.  All greeted with...

My love,

And all signed with...

All my love to you,

(y/n)

Remus traced over your handwriting and hugged the notes under his chin and deep into his chest.  As if they would become apart of him, and in that way you will always be with him.  But you were, you were everything to him. I won’t part from my love, he thinks, my love is apart of me. 

He decided then, that he would do anything in this world to win your affection back.  He would bare his soul naked to you, just for the word “love” to slip from your lips and into his being.  He was no longer afraid of your rejection, he just craved the chance to see what you would do, of what good could come from his truth unfolding itself before you. He craved your acceptance of all that he was, and above all he craved for you to love him once again.

Taglist:

@crazylokonugget     @beyondprincess     @1975weasley    @nicodoesntexist  @goto-hi-this-is-my-brain    @yoyoitsbella    @ftwert   @sognatrice-as-a-hobby   @dontjudgemyobsessionpls   @blackpinkdolan​    @holdenviolet​  @katie-lupin05

[celestialtitania]

rescuing a nightmare (from a dream)

Thank you to @khanofallorcs and @linhlotus for betaing! Can also read on AO3 or FFN.

Adrien had let go of Marinette's hand for just a moment when it had happened.. They had been walking down the streets of Paris, having come from the most wonderful brunch at Marinette's parents' house, when Adrien had spotted their old friend, André the Ice Cream Man.

He had let go of Marinette's hand to say hello and maybe get a scoop of ice cream for his Lady when he heard a sickening thump. He whirled around to see Marinette sprawled across the cement.

He heard a yell, as he fell to his knees frantically trying to feel Marinette's pulse. It was strong and steady, but his wife was still unconscious. Belatedly, his throat feeling sore and scratchy, he realized he was the one who had screamed. He slowly propped her head onto his upper arm, desperately trying to remember what he was supposed to do for someone who had fainted. He was about to bark at André to dial 15 when Marinette's face scrunched up.

"Marinette!" Adrien gasped in relief. "Are you okay?"

Marinette put a hand to the bridge of her nose as she blinked rapidly to get used to the bright sunlight. "Adrien? What happened?"

"You fainted! Did something happen? Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" Adrien demanded to know, his relief quickly turning to anger.

"Shall I call for an ambulance?" André inquired, a worried expression on his face.

Marinette slowly shook her head, "I'm okay, I think. Thank you, André." Adrien wanted to protest; going to the doctor would make him feel much better, but Marinette laid a soothing hand on his arm.

"Why don't you take me home, Kitty? Then you can watch over me as much as you like," she offered. Adrien knew that her words were just a dirty trick to avoid going to the doctor and for once, he didn't want to listen to her. They didn't know what had caused the fainting, even if she seemed perfectly fine now.

But he made the mistake of looking into her clear bluebell eyes that were looking at him so pleadingly.

"Oh, fine," he sighed in defeat. A bright, victorious smile appeared on Marinette's face. Well, he couldn't let that stand.

In one smooth motion, he scooped her up into his arms, making Marinette yelp as she looped her arms around his neck to balance herself. "Let's go home then, Princess," he winked at her. She gave him a cross look, but didn't protest, a pale pink flush covering her face.

Adrien smirked all the way home.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Adrien whistled as he cooked the eggs and set up the coffee maker. Marinette had been exhausted all week and he was still a little worried about her fainting spell from earlier, so he decided he would make use of his limited cooking skills to make her breakfast.

He looked up with a smile when he heard footsteps followed by a loud yawn.

"Good morning, Bugaboo," he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She nuzzled against him before stiffening. Adrien pulled back immediately, a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.

"What's that smell?" Marinette asked hesitantly. Adrien's eyes widened as he hurried back to the stove, worried the omelet had burnt. It was fine, though, albeit a little crispier than usual. He expertly folded it onto the plate and presented it to Marinette with a flourish.

She took one whiff of the omelet and was out the door. Adrien followed her immediately, only taking a moment to whip off his apron. He found her retching into the toilet and hurried forward to hold back her hair.

"Marinette, what's going on?" Adrien's voice was quivering. She, understandably, didn't answer as she coughed. His heart lurched forward as Marinette began to sway in his arms.

"Marinette!" Adrien pulled her back, as she blinked at him for a moment. Then she tried to push him away, "I'm okay now, Adrien. I must have eaten something bad, is all."

Adrien was finding it hard to breathe. "Marinette, we ate the same things, but I'm not throwing up." Marinette tried to stand up again, but Adrien stubbornly held onto her. She called his name, but he wasn't with her anymore.

He had been transported almost fifteen years into the past. He was playing with his mother in the garden, running around and laughing. One of his few happy memories of her.

She had finally caught him and was teaching him about the plants when a sudden bout of coughing had overtaken her. Adrien had run to his mother and cried loudly for his father. Emilie had tried to wipe the tears away as Gabriel approached, looking like he had run to them all the way from his office.

Adrien had gripped tightly onto her hand while Gabriel tried to support her. Instead, she had fallen down yet again, this time her coughs including drops of blood.

Adrien had been frightened, unable to move or comfort his mother. In response to his inaction, Gabriel had shoved him towards the servants and out of the way. After that, he hadn't been permitted to see his mother at all. A scant week later, she had disappeared, seemingly off of the face of the Earth.

He had never seen his mother laughing again. He closed his eyes and this time he hadn't travelled as far back in his memories.

This time, it was Nathalie who was coughing, barely able to stand on her own two feet. The strong, no-nonsense woman who had become a second mother to him had been betrayed by her own body.

When he asked his father if Nathalie was okay, all he ever said was that she was fine. Adrien had learned long ago that being fine was just a pretty lie. He knew now that it had been the effect of the broken Peacock Miraculous which had caused Nathalie's illness, but he still felt that he should have done something to help Nathalie. It could have ended up saving her life, but he had listened to his father's lies and Nathalie had paid the price.

He pulled Marinette closer towards him and buried his face into the crook of her shoulder. She fell silent, feeling the tremors running through his body. "Adrien?" She whispered softly, her breath tickling his ear.

"Marinette, I can't lose you," he cried out desperately.

Within a moment, she was squeezing him just as tightly. "Adrien, you will never lose me." Marinette promised him fiercely.

"You don't know that!" Adrien burst out, finally pulling him away from her. Swallowing past the lump that had formed in his throat, he took in a deep, shuddering breath. Gently, he took Marinette's hands in his own and made her look him in the eyes.

"I've seen this before. Everytime someone close to me gets sick, they say they're fine but they're not."

Marinette opened her mouth to interrupt, but Adrien continued talking over her. "Please, for my peace of mind, my Lady? If you're so sure this is nothing, then why not confirm it with the doctor?"

Marinette was quiet for a moment before she pulled her hands out of Adrien's. For one horrible moment, Adrien felt like his heart would stop beating as he stared at her in terror, completely certain she would deny him this. Tell him he was out of his mind and that she didn't want to be anywhere near him anymore.

Then she lightly placed her hands on his cheeks. "Adrien, you're crying," she said, her voice breaking. He blinked in realization, he hadn't even noticed, though it explained why his vision had suddenly gone blurry.

Marinette wiped the tears away with the tips of her fingertips before enveloping him in another hug. "My Prince, of course I'll do it. I'll go first thing tomorrow, alright?"

Her words had a calming effect on him, giving him the strength to pull them out of the bathroom. "Tomorrow?" He confirmed with her again, anxious tension creeping into his shoulders.

She gave him a look filled with love. "I'd do anything for you, Adrien. Going to the doctor tomorrow doesn't even scratch the surface." She looked down at herself. "Let me change first and let's see if there's something I can stomach right now."

"Sounds perfect," he nodded, but not before he gave her another hug, if only to confirm to himself that she was really still here.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Adrien had been standing outside of his front door for what felt like hours. He'd wanted to skip work so that he could accompany Marinette to the doctor's, but she wouldn't listen to a word he had to say on the matter.

Only now did he understand why she had forced him to leave. He was terrified of the answer. He closed his eyes, trying to gather the courage to step through the door. In the end, it was the thought of leaving his Lady to deal with her pain and suffering on her own which had him barreling through the door.

At once, he was assaulted by the sheer darkness in the room. "Marinette?" He called out, just a hint of fear in his voice. He blinked furiously, trying to have his eyes quickly adjust to the darkness. That was when he heard soft sobs penetrate the silence in the room.

She was sitting on the couch, clutching some papers. Adrien felt like all of his worst fears had come true all at once. Swallowing past his discomfort, he forced himself to remain calm so he could offer Marinette the support she so sorely needed.

Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, Adrien reached Marinette's side, flicking on a lamp to alert her to his presence. Marinette lifted her head in surprise, her cries becoming louder as she caught sight of him.

She immediately jumped into his arms and Adrien tried to indicate all of his love and support for Marinette in a simple squeeze.

"Adrien," Marinette said breathlessly, but Adrien shook his head, trying to spare her the pain of speaking the words out loud.

"It's okay, Marinette. I already know." That he had to be strong for her was the only thought running through his head. One which he was chanting like a mantra.

She pulled back, her confusion showing all over her face. "Y-you know? Is this why you pushed me to go check with the doctor?"

Adrien nodded, trying to prevent the tears he felt pricking the corners of his eyes from falling. "H-how long?" He stammered out.

Marinette looked a little hesitant, but she wiped her tears away and took in a deep breath. "Six weeks."

Adrien felt his blood run cold. "Six weeks? No! T-this can't be happening!" He shook his head frantically making Marinette jump back in surprise.

"A-aren't you happy?" Marinette asked him, her eyes filling with tears.

Adrien felt his jaw drop. "How can you say that to me? Why would I ever be happy about this?" He demanded to know.

Marinette was looking at him as if he had somehow betrayed her. "I-I thought–," but Adrien didn't let her finish.

"There has to be some mistake!" He insisted, reaching towards the doctor's report to check for himself. Marinette snatched it away, his fingertips only managing to brush against the cool cover of the report.

"What sort of mistake are you hoping to find?"

"Anything!" Adrien finally snapped. "Damn it, Marinette. You told me I wouldn't lose you, and then you tell me you only have six weeks left to live." He ignored Marinette's squeak of surprise, rubbing his arm across his face to keep himself from bursting into tears. "How could you ever think I'd be happy about that?"

Quick as could be, Marinette pulled him into a fierce hug. "Adrien, that's not it."

Her touch had broken the dam and in moments he was sobbing, clutching at her shirt for support. "What are you talking about?"

"Adrien, Kitty, I'm not in any danger," Marinette promised him, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

Adrien simply blinked at her, unable to comprehend what she was saying. She looked away from him and mumbled something incomprehensible.

"What?" He croaked out, needing to know exactly what was going on. He felt Marinette take in a deep breath.

"I-I'm pregnant."

Adrien felt his eyes widen before they filled with tears yet again. "Six weeks?" He checked, her previous words now making sense. Marinette nodded shyly at him, making his heart swell.

"You're pregnant," he laughed breathlessly.

Marinette nodded, throwing her arms around his neck. "We're pregnant, Kitty. We're having a baby!"

Adrien was so relieved and happy, he scooped Marinette up and spun her around. Their combined weight had them falling onto the couch where they burst into a fit of giggles.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," Marinette murmured, pulling his face closer to hers.

"M'lady, you've made me the happiest man alive. It's my own fault for not letting you speak," Adrien whispered back before he closed the gap between them. The kiss they shared was both loving and joyous, full of their relief and future hopes.

He slowly pulled away, only to rest his forehead on hers.

"I guess now we know what we're going to do with the empty room," Adrien grinned. "Pretty fur-tunate we don't have to move, huh?"

Marinette pulled away to laugh. "We'll have a little bug of our own," her eyes were glowing.

"The purr-tiest Bug of them all," Adrien agreed. "Well, after you, of course, Bugaboo."

Marinette looked at him hesitantly. "You really think we can do this?"

"Hey, it's you and me against the world, remember? Together we can do anything."

At his words, Marinette's smile grew wider. "You're right," she said before leaning in to kiss him again. As they sat together, Adrien felt his heart fill once again with gratitude that Marinette had fallen in love with him.

With their kitten on the way, he couldn't wait to begin the rest of his life with her.

[izupie]

So recently I said that I would stop putting limits on myself as to what I’m writing - like, if I want to write it, and I have inspiration and motivation for it, I’ll Write It. (Despite hearing the moaning cries of my wip folder and beating it back with a broom) 

So taking away my impulse control on writing stuff has resulted in me spending the last few hours writing whatever this is and I don’t even know where it’s going and yes I’m aware I have another werewolf Richie wip already and no I don’t know if I’m ever going to finish this, but please take it from my weary hands anyway

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

“So, hypothetically, say I had a… friend… who got bit by a dog-”

“-You got bit by a dog?”

“Wha- No, Eds, fuck- weren’t you listening? My friend got bit by a dog. Hypothetically.”

“Richie- I swear to- how fucking stupid do you think I am? When has that line ever worked for anyone ever?”

Richie peered into the tiny sink at the red still dripping down his fingers from the wound on his hand. There was a pile of bloodied tissues next to him and the wad he was currently pressing onto the bite really needed changing too. “Oh, shit,” Richie cursed loudly, as his cell phone nearly slid out of the gap that he’d wedged it in, between his shoulder and his ear.

“What?”

“I nearly lost my phone down the plane toilet.” He snorted a laugh. “Imagine someone’s walking around down there, minding their own business, and a phone drops out of the sky on them.”

“That’s not how plane toilets work!” Eddie’s voice was agitated and clipped, and Richie could listen to it all day. Even with the whole bleeding out into a tiny plastic sink thing.

“Aw, it’s not?”

“Of course not, dipshit, otherwise every time someone flushes it, it would just-” Eddie took a deep breath and Richie reached for a handful of new toilet paper to press onto his hand. “You’re distracting me. You need to apply pressure to the wound.”

“I am. I’m like, pressing a load of toilet paper on it. But it won’t stop bleeding.”

“It’s probably gonna get infected… shit, what if the dog had rabies, have you had a rabies shot in the last year?”

Richie opened his mouth.

“Of course you haven’t. Okay, just don’t think about rabies. Dog bites get infected easy because of all the bacteria in their mouths, so you need to wash it. That’ll encourage the bleeding, but you need to make sure the wound is clean. Then you’ve got to dry it and just keep the pressure on.”

It was soothing to hear Eddie’s voice in his ear, and despite the bite (that had started to feel like it was burning – that can’t be a good sign) Richie was always so happy to talk to him. He was hunched over a plane sink with his cell phone jammed onto his ear and piles of bloodied toilet paper around him, but he was smiling because he was talking to Eddie Kaspbrak and he was being a helpful but bossy little shit. God he’d got it bad. “Wash it, dry it, pressure,” Richie repeated, “aye, aye, cap’n doctor K.”

“As soon as I pick you up, we’re going straight to the hospital.”

Richie began following Eddie’s instructions as he ran his hand under the tap, wincing as the burning sensation increased and the red freely flowed down the drain.

“Wait a minute- if you’re already on the plane… how’d you get bitten by a dog?”

Richie grabbed a handful of clean, dry toilet paper and patted the wound gently, as he thought about how he was going to dance around a way of explaining what happened. “Uh…” Then he pressed down hard, applying as much pressure as he could, and hissed at the stab of pain.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eddie’s concern came loud and clear through the phone and it was so startling in its utter sincerity that it made Richie want to pour his goddamn heart out to him with an, ‘Well I got bit by a dog but that’s not the problem, I’m not okay because I’ve been so in love with you that it hurts since we were thirteen fucking years old.’

Instead Richie just nodded and realised that he wouldn’t be able to see that, so he said, “I just nodded.”

Eddie let out a huff and Richie smiled at the soft sound.

“God you’re so distracting-”

No, you’re so distracting.

“-but, really, how’d you get a dog bite on a plane, Rich? Did one bite you before you got on?”

And there was his out. He could agree to that, and it would be fine. Eddie would never know. (Though it would probably be a little hard to keep up the lie if he got any kind of magical related disease or curse or something, since he didn’t consider rabies to be a legitimate concern from a bite he received through some magical bullshit that he thought he had left behind a year ago.) But maybe he was tired of tying himself up in a web of lies all the time with Eddie, because he was always so careful to mask everything with a joke or a punchline. Didn’t he deserve as much honesty as he was willing to give sometimes – about this at least?

“Richie?”

And oh, there was the word that always brought him to his knees. The word he heard whispered on bloodied lips. Whimpered into a cave. Hands up to a blood-stained spike, piercing a chest – before waking up sobbing in his bed alone.

It was dead.

It was fucking dead. And Eddie was alive.

Richie took a deep breath, inflating his lungs as far as they could go, and let it all out at once. “I’ve been having dreams.”

“What?”

“The fucking- the Deadlights or whatever- when I was caught in them I… saw things.” Richie was gripping onto his wounded hand so hard his knuckles were white.

You died.

“And I’ve been having, I don’t know, some weird kind of messed up dreams on and off since then.”

For a moment Eddie didn’t reply and then it burst out of him in a pure unfiltered explosion of Kaspbrak rage through the phone, “You didn’t think to tell us this sooner? What if that means- like what if It isn’t really dead? ‘Messed up’ dreams? What kind of messed up? Richie, what the fuck- why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?”

(Richie could imagine the pacing and the hand movements that went with the ranting, but it didn’t make him feel any less guilty.)

“Well I mean, I’m coming to stay at your apartment for a couple of weeks, so like, at some point I’d have woken you up with the screaming or the sobbing, or the pathetic party of both at the same time, so it would probably have come up then…”

There was another long pause and Richie expected this to be because of Eddie rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“So anyway,” Richie continued, “I fell to sleep as soon as the plane took off.”

“Of course,” Eddie sighed.

Richie thought he sounded sad. But he supposed if he found out that Eddie was keeping a secret like that from him, he’d be pretty pissed off and upset about it too. (It’s not the only secret he’s keeping from Eddie, but it’s the only one he’s willing to ever let past his lips.)

“Well this dream started similarly to the others… but…” Richie hesitated, remembering what had set the dream off its usual course of watching Eddie die in that cave – he’d so very nearly told him that he loved him. It had been on the tip of his tongue, but he’d swallowed it down. Instead he’d told a weak joke and they’d both smiled, even though Eddie was bleeding out under his hands, and the whole dream had gone black. “There was a turtle,” he said eventually, remembering the darkness and the tiny point of light in it. “Which was weird.”

“You’re having magic dreams and the weird thing is that there was a turtle?”

“Well yeah, ‘cause there’s never been one there before. They tend to all go the same way.”

“So… the turtle bit you?”

“What, no. The turtle didn’t fucking bite me. Jesus. It turned into a dog, and the dog bit me.”

Richie could hear Eddie sit down.

“It was one of those tiny fluffy demon things. It told me I had to stop hiding who I am and…” Let myself be seen. “I don’t know, some other weird stuff, so I reached out to it and it fuckin’ bit me, man.”

“The… turtle… that turned into a… dog… and bit you… told you, that you had to stop hiding who you are?”

“Yep.” Richie snorted a laugh and lifted the toilet paper on his wound carefully, to peek underneath. The bleeding had stopped. He finally reached up to adjust his glasses and released his phone from the gap between his neck and shoulder to hold it up to his ear with his good hand. “But I’ve always been a Trashmouth, and I’ll always be a Trashmouth and I don’t think anyone can say that I don’t flaunt it on stage. I don’t hide anything.” Richie winced as soon as the words left his mouth, and he was glad that Eddie couldn’t see. He was in fact talking to the one person that he was hiding the most from. Maybe the turtle-dog had a point…

But their friendship meant everything to him, and to lose Eddie after just getting him back would destroy him.

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to stay at the recently-divorced questionably-straight single-friend’s apartment that he had a lifetime’s long crush on, but when Eddie invited him over for a couple of weeks for a vacation there wasn’t a force on earth (or otherwise) that could have made him refuse.

(He really needed help.)

(But not the magic supernatural bullshit kind.)

“Okay,” Eddie said with a note of finality and decision, “okay, I’ll get in touch with Mike and see what he knows. Mike’s good with this kind of stuff, right? Or maybe Bev? She got caught in the Deadlights like you. Wait, didn’t Stan say he saw some weird Deadlights shit too? Though I’m not sure Stan would let me get past ‘Richie got bit by a dream dog’ before he hung up on me.”

Richie laughed as he felt a wave of affection crash through his chest. Eddie was clearly out of his comfort zone with anything involving magic again, but he was being practical and logical and making plans. He had always been, and continued to be, the bravest man Richie had ever known.

“Tell him I got bit by a magic pigeon and he might stick around long enough to hear a bit more.” He stuffed the bloodied toilet paper into the toilet and wiped around the sink to get rid of any traces of red.

Eddie’s voice softened, “How’s your hand?”

Richie turned his wounded hand over and examined the puncture marks – now just angry red indents. But they still burned. “It’s not so bad now,” he said, “bleeding has stopped. Thanks, doc.”

“Well, we’re still taking you straight to the hospital. I’m going to get in my car now and I’ll meet you at the airport as soon as you land. Just… stay awake for the rest of the journey, okay?”

Richie wondered if Eddie was really smiling, or if he was just doing a good job of imagining it in his voice. He smiled back anyway and ran his good hand through his messy hair. “You got it. See you soon, Eds.”

“Don’t call me-”

Richie chuckled as he pressed the button to flush the toilet and hung up the call.

[mrs-dr-reid]

She Used to Be Mine

(A Criminal Minds Fic)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Summary: The reader finally left her scum of the earth boyfriend of a year and a half, and she finds out she’s pregnant with his baby when the team gets done with a case. She lets out her frustrations about the whole situation during an open mic night at a bar, not knowing the rest of the team is there, too, and has to explain what’s been going on with her.

Genre: Oof, this is some painful stuff here, buddy. Maybe a little fluff at the end? I dunno.

Warnings: Minor language, mentions of abuse, mentions of an unhealthy relationship, brief allusions to doing the do, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, slight mentions of normal Criminal Minds stuff

A/N: I’m gonna apologize in advance for this one, guys. I’ve had “She Used to be Mine” from Waitress stuck in my head for like two days, and this came to me in a dream last night, so allow me to write out my brain vomit and slap it on the internet. Enjoy. Just a note, I have never seen or listened to Waitress in its entirety, I just know what this song is about and am writing this solely based on that one song. (Also, Y/S/N means “Your Sister’s Name”. If you don’t have a sister, make one up if you’d like)

Word Count: 3514

———————————————————————

Y/N didn’t know how she let this happen. She kept telling herself that she was going to leave him. That their situation was only going to get worse. That if she didn’t get out of there soon she could potentially die, and she never did. She had gradually been transitioning more and more of her stuff out of the apartment and into the trunk of her car to make leaving easier, and she had packed up all her things of value into a suitcase and kept it stashed in the hall closet ready to go just in case, because the Lord knows he never even gave it a second glance. Then finally after two months of delaying the inevitable, a blow-out argument and a handful of shattered beer bottles finally gave her the push she needed, and she slammed the door of his apartment behind her and never looked back once while dragging her suitcase down the stairs and out the door of his building to her car.

Luckily Y/N’s older sister Y/S/N also lived in D.C., and she was more than happy to let Y/N stay at her place until she found somewhere for herself. Y/N didn’t even know how to tell the rest of the team about the breakup, but she was glad she wouldn’t have to cover up bruises with makeup and lackluster excuses anymore. Y/N decided to let them profile it out for themselves because she didn’t want to waste anymore time, energy, or thoughts on her ex ever again.

The next day at work, the entire team immediately picked up on a change in Y/N’s demeanor, but none of them acknowledged it and let Penelope present their latest case in Madison, Wisconsin without so much as a questioning glance towards her. Well, everyone but Spencer, that is. He had his head cocked like a confused puppy while squinting at Y/N the entire meeting. Emily had to snap her fingers in front of his face at least twice to get him to pay attention again, which made Y/N a little nervous, because she really didn’t want him to confront her, mainly because she knows it’s impossible for her to lie to him.

They got on the jet, and once they were in the air, Y/N suddenly felt really nauseous and made a mad dash for the bathroom, making everyone turn to shoot a confused and worried look in that direction. Once she slammed the door shut and locked it behind her, she threw open the lid of the toilet and had at it. After she had finished, she flushed away the vomit and reasoned that she probably had something past its date for breakfast that morning and brushed it off.

Throughout the whole case, Y/N had random bouts of nausea and had to excuse herself during really important stuff to go and find the bathroom. She even had to run out during a suspect interrogation leaving Emily to talk to the perp, and had to leave while they delivered the profile to avoid losing her lunch and crappy bullpen coffee all over the suspect and the local cops. The whole team was worried for her, but she insisted she was fine and kept working, much to Spencer’s chagrin, but he just let her do what she had to do, because he’d learned to not mess with Y/N when she’s on a roll the hard way.

After they had caught the unsub and saved the would-have-been victim, Y/N found herself fighting back her own tears as she comforted the poor, traumatized girl, which was weird because that had never happened before. Once the team had packed up and got in the SUVs to head to the airfield, they had to stop at a gas station right before they left the town. Y/N grabbed her wallet and said, “I gotta take a bathroom break before we get out of here,” and both JJ and Emily nodded before she got out of the car and went into the store. 

Y/N went straight for the pregnancy tests and grabbed a box of three before heading to the counter and paying, because she had a hunch she needed to prove. She went to the bathroom, and took all three once she locked herself in a stall. She set them on top of the toilet paper dispenser thing and timed two minutes on her watch. Once the two minutes were up, she took a deep breath and grabbed the tests. Y/N almost passed out when she saw that all three read “positive”, but that’s when she realized her period was a couple of weeks late.

After that realization, she smacked her head against the wall of the stall, because she knew exactly how she’d gotten pregnant: Her stupid, lowkey abusive, borderline alcoholic ex had somehow convinced her to go with him to a sports bar to meet his stupid, annoying, borderline alcoholic friends and watch some sports game three weeks ago, they’d both gotten decently drunk, and she woke up the next morning with a killer hangover and without clothes.

Y/N took a picture of the tests on her phone in case someone on the team profiled it out of her and she needed receipts, then threw them in the little stall trash can before getting out of the stall, washing her hands, and going back out to the SUVs. JJ and Emily shot her looks as she climbed into the car because she was gone for a while, but they just assumed it was #1 and #2 and didn’t say anything.

She was silent and stared out the window the entire flight back, which didn’t go unnoticed by Spencer, who left his beloved jet couch to plop down across from her at the single seater table. She stopped looking out the window and saw him doing his signature awkward smile, which made a small smile spread across her face before she said, “Hey, Spence. What’s up?”, so he said, “Are you okay, Y/N/N? You’ve been throwing up all week, and I don’t think that’s all that healthy.”

Y/N sighed and said, “I’m fine, Spence. I probably just haven’t been eating as much as my body would like me to, and the bullpen coffee agitated my stomach. I’m totally fine,” then reached across the table and grabbed his hand before saying, “Thank you for worrying, though. I appreciate you a ton. You know that, right?”, making him smile and say, “Yeah, I know. You’re welcome,” before getting up and going back to his couch, Y/N’s smile growing a little wider as she watched him go.

Once the team was back at Quantico, Y/N plopped down at her desk and started doing her paperwork, but Hotch came out of his office and said, “That was a rough case, everyone. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow, call it a night for now,” so Y/N shrugged and grabbed her bag off the floor and headed to the elevator, holding it open for everyone as the team piled in while expressing their relief at the early night.

Flash forward to the weekend, and Y/N is hanging out with Y/S/N (who is the only person who knows she’s pregnant) at their favorite bar in Logan Circle. It was open mic night, and Y/N decided that the best way to get her emotions out was to do a song. There was a piano, and she’d thankfully memorized how to play “She Used to Be Mine” from Waitress when she went on a musical theater kick. So she calmly sipped on a Shirley Temple and talked with her sister while she waited for her name to be called.

After about four people did what they wanted to do, the lady running the show called out, “Up next, Miss Y/N L/N who will be playing the piano and singing a song for us!”, so Y/N stood up and walked onto the stage before sitting down at the piano and adjusting the mic. She said, “This song is called ‘She Used to Be Mine’ from Waitress,” before playing the interlude and starting to sing:

“It's not simple to say

That most days I don't recognize me

That these shoes and this apron

That place and its patrons

Have taken more than I gave them

It's not easy to know

I'm not anything like I used be, although it's true

I was never attention's sweet center

I still remember that girl”

What Y/N didn’t know is that the team get-together Penelope organized she declined attending to hang out with Y/S/N was taking place at that exact bar, and they were at a booth right near the stage watching her performance. Penelope had instantly grabbed Derek’s arm in worry when Y/N had announced the title of the song, and when questioned about it, she said, “That’s probably the saddest song in the whole musical! In the show, the main character Jenna’s abusive husband takes all the money she’d been saving for the baby she didn’t want to have, and she sings this song because she feels like she’s lost complete control of her life and doesn’t know who she is anymore,” making everyone exchange looks before looking back at the stage to watch Y/N perform:

“She's imperfect, but she tries

She is good, but she lies

She is hard on herself

She is broken and won't ask for help

She is messy, but she's kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone, but she used to be mine”

Y/N kept singing, and as she did, she felt just like Jenna did in the musical: critical of herself for allowing a person like her ex to keep her locked in their relationship for way longer than she should have, and scared because she was going to be a mother, and no way was she allowing her scumbag ex to be a part of her son or daughter’s life.

“It's not what I asked for

Sometimes life just slips in through a back door

And carves out a person and makes you believe it's all true

And now I've got you

And you're not what I asked for

If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back

For a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two”

Spencer could hardly believe what he was hearing. If he had an inkling that she might be pregnant before, this all but confirmed his mind that she was, but she’d have given anything to not be, which broke his heart a little. He took another sip of club soda (designated driver), and kept watching Y/N as she sang her heart out:

“For that girl that I knew

Who’d be reckless, just enough

Who gets hurt, but who learns how to toughen up

When she's bruised and gets used by a man who can't love

And then she'll get stuck

And be scared of the life that's inside her

Growing stronger each day 'til it finally reminds her

To fight just a little, to bring back the fire in her eyes

That's been gone, but used to be mine

Used to be mine”

JJ let out a tiny gasp at the “man who can’t love” line, and she whispered, “I knew she was covering bruises up. Why didn’t she tell us?”, but nobody had an answer for her. As Y/N sang the last part, all of her emotions came crashing down on her, and she barely made it through without bursting into tears:

“She is messy, but she’s kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie

She is gone, but she used to be mine”

Y/N was met with a standing ovation, and when she stood up to take a bow, her blood went cold when she saw the team sitting at their booth with heartbroken looks on their faces. She pretended she didn’t notice, then went to sit down with Y/S/N again, doing her best to avoid making eye contact with any of them, especially Spencer.

Y/S/N noticed the team staring at them, and she said, “Hey, Y/N/N. I think your friends from work want to talk to you,” which made Y/N let out a tiny groan before saying, “Fine,” and getting up to go over to the team’s booth. She put on a fake smile and said, “Hey, guys! I didn’t expect to see you here! How’s your night been?”, but she could tell her attempt at dodging the bullet didn’t work because Penelope was still about three seconds away from crying.

Y/N let out a sigh, then said, “Okay, fine. I can explain everything. I broke up with my awful boyfriend, apparently I’m pregnant with his kid, yes I’m keeping it, and no I am not allowing him to be a part of this baby’s life because he was horrible to me and that wouldn’t change if he had a child,” leaving the entire team speechless.

Emily said, “Why didn’t you tell us? We could have done something to help you!”, so Y/N burst out, “Because I was embarrassed, Em! I was embarrassed that I let it get that far, and I didn’t want anybody to know. The only person I told about any of this is my sister because I’m living with her right now until I can find my own place, because I used to live with my ex,” making a single tear fall down Penelope’s cheek, and Spencer look at her with an emotion in his eyes Y/N had never seen before.

Everyone else shot her looks of both sadness and encouragement, so she nodded before going back over to her sister and saying, “Can we go home now? I think I’m all partied out,” so Y/S/N said, “Yeah, sure! I’ll pay our bill, you can go wait in the car,” making her nod and grab her coat before walking out the door, doing her best to avoid eye contact.

A few hours later, Y/N was hanging out on the couch at the apartment catching up on paperwork after her sister had gone in for a shift at the hospital when her phone started ringing. She picked it up to see that it was Spencer, which confused her because he’s more of a text kind of guy. She answered and said, “Hey, Spence. What’s up?”, so he said, “Hey, Y/N/N. Can I come over?”, which made her say, “Yeah, sure! I’ll text you my sister’s address and apartment number, and I’ll stay close to the door to buzz you in,” before they bid their goodbyes and hung up.

About fifteen minutes later, the buzzer went off, so Y/N got up and pressed the button before saying, “Spencer?”, earning his reply of, “Yeah, it’s me,” so she said, “Come on up. The door’s unlocked,” before letting him into the building. Spencer came in the door, and before Y/N could even say anything, he snatched her into a tight hug and buried his face in her shoulder. Y/N didn’t really know how to react at first, but she accepted the hug and nestled her face into Spencer’s neck.

Spencer said, “I’m so sorry we weren’t there for you,” so Y/N released her grip on him and said, “No, I’m sorry I didn’t let you guys be there for me. I let my pride get in the way, and I definitely paid the price. I promise I won’t hide things from you guys anymore. It helps no one if I’m not honest with you,” which made Spencer smile at her.

Y/N said, “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”, so Spencer said, “Yeah, coffee sounds great,” making Y/N smile before saying, “You take your cream and sugar with a little coffee, right?”, and she heard him let out a slight chuckle as she went into the kitchen. She put on a pot of boiling water, then grabbed out everything she needed to make Spencer a cup of coffee as well as her favorite green tea, because she knew that she’d receive a lecture about drinking coffee while pregnant from her favorite boy genius and she didn’t want to deal.

Y/N got two mugs out of her cupboard, and after she fixed everything up, she brought the mugs into the living room where Spencer was sitting on the couch. They sat and talked about life for a while until Spencer finally said, “So... when did you find out?”, so Y/N said, “When we stopped at that gas station for a pitstop in Madison. I bought three tests, then took them in the bathroom. All three of them were positive, and while it shouldn’t have shocked me, it did,” making Spencer nod in understanding.

He was silent for a little bit, then he said, “Are you sure you’re gonna keep the baby?”, so Y/N took a long sip of tea before saying, “Yes. At the end of the day, this baby is still 50% me, and I want to give them the best life I can when he or she arrives. It may be the byproduct of one of the worst periods of time in my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna take this little blessing in disguise for granted,” and rubbing her tummy.

Spencer smiled and said, “Henry’s gonna be really excited about having a playmate,” making Y/n say, “I don’t doubt it,” before chuckling slightly. There was a comfortable silence for a moment or two, then Spencer cleared his throat before saying, “This is probably the last thing you want to hear after everything you’ve been through, but... I love you. I think I’ve loved you since May 21, 2009,” making Y/N’s eyes widen before she said, “That’s a week after I joined the team.”

Spencer said, “I know. I know, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. If I had, you wouldn’t have ended up with... him, and you wouldn’t be pregnant with his kid, and you wouldn’t have had to suffer at his hand for all that time without any of us realizing it, and...,” but Y/N put her hand over his mouth and said, “Spence, I’m gonna need you to shut up and listen to me for a minute, okay?”, making him nod and say, “Okay,” slightly muffled by her hand.

Y/N removed her hand, then said, “Spencer Reid, if you’ve loved me since May 21, 2009, I have to admit that I’ve loved you since May 22, 2009. The only reason I ever said yes to that... douche nozzle is because I didn’t think there was any chance in hell you’d be into me. Now that I know you have feelings for me, the only thing I’d want to change is instead of my ex being this baby’s father, I’d want it to be the scrawny boy genius I was lucky enough to be desk neighbors with,” making Spencer’s eyes well up with tears.

He scooted closer, and brought a hand up to Y/N’s cheek before whispering, “Can I...? Would it be alright if I kissed you?”, so Y/N whispered back, “Yes,” and Spencer leaned in before gently touching his lips to hers in one of the softest kisses she’d ever been given. Y/N’s hands found their way into Spencer’s hair, and she held him closer while scooting into his lap, making him smile against her lips and wrap his other arm around her waist.

When Y/N pulled her lips away, she rested her forehead against his and said, “When this baby arrives... If I asked you to be their father figure, would you do it?”, so Spencer’s eyes welled up again before he said, “You can ask me right now,” making Y/N smile. She said, “Will you be this child’s father figure?”, and Spencer said, “Absolutely,” before kissing her forehead and pulling her closer to him.

When Y/S/N got home, she stopped in the living room and had to pull out her phone, because Y/N and Spencer were fast asleep on the couch. Y/N was sprawled over Spencer’s chest and her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, and Spencer’s arms were draped loosely over her back to keep her close. Y/S/N took a picture of the adorable scene, then grabbed a blanket from the wicker basket they kept by the couch to drape it over their sleeping forms. As she walked to her room, she whispered, “Sweet dreams, Lovebirds,” a smile on her face as she did.

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Tag List: @agenthotchner​, @hurricanejjareau​, @xgoldentigerlilyx​, @therestisconfettis​, @less-intelligent-spencerreid​, @aryaarathornson​, @thomasgibsonfan01​

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[c-c-cherry]

What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (7)

Season 1 

Episode 7 - Mob And All 

Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2481

Warnings: Angst, Implied sexual scenes, fluff! 

A/N: I know this part is late, I’m sorry!  I have been having virtual dates with someone for the last few nights and I’ve loved every second! But here is another part! Enjoy Lovelies! 

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War of Wolves Masterlist    Series Masterlist   Oneshot Masterlist

The next morning you wake up tangled in sheets that aren’t yours. It takes a few seconds to remember what happened between you and Bucky last night. When the memories of last night flood your mind you feel your stomach flip and your heart race. 

You turn around in bed to find the space empty which dampens the butterflies. You see a note on Bucky’s pillow and you pick it up, sitting up in bed. You read it as sunlight streams into the room: had to leave for business. 

You put the note on his side table as you climb out of bed and start to put your clothes back on. You move around the room putting on one item at a time. The words on the note playing around in your head. 

When you’re finally dressed you slip out of his room and make your way to your room. You can’t believe that was all he had said on the note. You felt like there should have been more after the night you had. 

You had been feeling things for Bucky for a while now. You’re not sure when it had happened exactly, but you knew you had felt a connection to Bucky that you hadn’t felt with anyone. Last night had meant something to you and while you were in the moment you thought it meant something to him too. 

But the more you thought about it, your mind racing off without you, the more you thought maybe it didn’t mean anything to him. He is a mob boss and a gorgeous one, he can have anyone he wants. The fear that last night had been a fling, had been a one-time thing was making you feel sick. The fear that he might just want a friends with benefit relationship wouldn’t go away.

BUCKY’S POV 

The sky was dark by the time Bucky sat down in his office. He had been sorting things out all day and barely had a moment to himself since someone knocked on his door this morning needing his immediate attention. 

Despite all the business he had to take care of today, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He thought about last night and it brought a smile to his face every time. But he also felt like his head and his heart had been at wars all day. 

His heart was telling him that you were special. His heart was telling him that he needed to accept his feelings and make you his. His head on the other hand was telling him to suppress the feelings. His head was telling him that if he pursued you then heartache would inevitably follow. His head told him that not only could his job get you killed if you became someone special to him, but it told him that he didn’t deserve love or a chance at it. 

He was going through this internal debate when he heard a knock on his door. He looks up to find Steve coming in and walking towards his desk. Steve takes a seat across from him, which only happens if he has something to talk about. 

Steve clears his throat, “you get everything squared away today?”. 

Bucky shrugs, “for the most part. You know what its like, I can never seem to square a problem away without another popping up”. 

Steve nods and looks like he’s having his own internal struggle. Bucky talks again, “just tell me what you want to say Steve. Its never stopped you before”. 

Steve gives Bucky a half smile, “well, I’ve never had this exact conversation with you before so…”. 

Bucky just gestures for him to continue and Steve sighs, “I saw Y/N coming out of your room this morning”. 

Bucky arches a brow, “and you’ve got a problem with that?”. 

Steve takes a breath, “actually, yes I do”. 

Bucky studies his friend, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say his brother. Steve seemed slightly nervous as to directly challenging his friend, but Bucky was more curious as to why he had a problem, “why’s that?”. 

Steve continues with conviction, “I can imagine what happened last night and its not what you did that bothers me. It’s what you didn’t do.”

Bucky frowns, “what do-“. 

Steve cuts him off, “I bet you didn’t tell her how you really feel about her did you?”. 

Bucky sighs, “how do you even know I feel anything like that about her?”. 

Steve laughs, “you realise I have eyes, right? And that I’m your oldest friend. I know you. I’ve seen the way you interact with her. You took time from work to keep her company while she was recovering from her fight with Adalee. I’ve never known you take time off work for anyone except me. You go out of your way to do things for her. That day you went off in a rage to the gym, I saw her walk in and stay with you, you don’t even do that for me”. 

Bucky found it harder and harder to hear the evidence of his heart coming from Steve in quick succession, “what’s your point Steve?”. 

“What are you doing Punk?”, Steve shakes his head, “don’t fuck this up Buck. Take your fucking business brain out of this. Take out the fact that you’re a head of a mob and then tell me you wouldn’t go after her?”. 

Bucky comes across helpless, “I can’t tell you that because if I was anyone else I would have gone after her already, but I can’t just take out the business and the mob Steve. She could be-no, she would be a target once everyone knew who she was to me”. 

Steve gives Bucky a sad smile, “but she doesn’t want anyone else, Buck…she wants you, mob and all, its plain to see in the fact that she’s stuck around”. 

Steve’s sentence hangs in the air. It adds fuel to the war inside of him that he thinks is about to be won. Steve stands from the chair, “she’s in the library if you decide to take my advice”. Steve then leaves quietly, shutting the door behind him. 

YOUR POV 

You had moped around in the library all day. Nobody ever came in, so it was the perfect place to escape. You had just finished reading a book. You got up from the sofa you were curled up on and trailed along the shelves until you found the spot you were looking for. 

When you turn around Bucky is standing behind you and you jump out of your skin. He looks sheepish, “I’m sorry, I thought you heard me come in”. 

You put a hand over your heart, “no, I didn’t”. 

You stand looking at each other for a few minutes until Bucky clears his throat, “so, about this morning-“. 

You cut him off by holding a hand up, “its fine Bucky, I get it. Its awkward trying to tell someone that the sex was great but that’s all it was, so you left a note instead. I just-I just want you to know that if that’s all it was to you then I can’t do it again. I’m not going to be your replacement for Adalee-“. 

He comes closer, hands up, “woah, what are you on about?”. 

You frown at him, “the note was pretty clear. It was short and to the point and practically screamed that last night was just sex and that’s fine if it was but-“. 

Bucky cuts you off before you can ramble again, “it wasn’t. It was more than that for me”. 

You study him, expecting to see the lie, but you’re shocked when you don’t, “what?”. 

Bucky lets out a frustrated noise, “I’ll admit that it was a moment of weakness and it wasn’t meant to happen, but that’s only because I’ve been trying to distance myself from you…my head is such a mess, and this isn’t something I’m used to doing. Y/N, I can’t seem to stay away from you. I think about you all the time and I’ve been telling myself that it didn’t mean anything, but as time went on I could feel you pulling down walls that I’ve had up for years. I don’t want to run from it anymore. I want you. I want you more than I’ve wanted anything. I feel this connection and these feelings for you and I’m done ignoring it. I want us…but only if you do”. 

Your head was having a hard time processing what Bucky had just admitted to you. You had spent the day fearing this was all one sided, but here he is now telling you everything you only imagined he would say. 

He looks like he’s holding his breath at your answer. So, you try and give him one, “Buck, I…”. Your brain and mouth don’t connect and, you lose the words. You see fear and doubt start to creep in on him, so you do the next best thing. You walk forward, grab his face in your hands and kiss him. 

It takes less than a second for his arms to wrap around your waist and bring your body flush against his. When you break from the kiss he looks down at you with a smirk, “is that a yes?”. 

You nod, still not trusting your words. Then Bucky’s face becomes serious, “you have to understand though that people will see you as a target to get to me. You could get hurt-“. 

You cut him off finding your words, “I don’t care”. 

Bucky frowns, “what?”. 

You smile, “I don’t care Bucky. I knew all this anyway, but its worth it. You’re worth it”. Bucky studies you for a moment before he lifts you over his shoulder. You squeal at the sudden movement, “Bucky! What are you doing?”. 

You hear his voice go low, “I’m taking you to my room for round 2”. 

The next morning was very different. Well, there was only one difference really. You still woke up tangled in sheets that weren’t yours as the events of the night before floods your mind. Except this time, when you turn around you find Bucky next to you. 

He’s still asleep, so you turn around gently, prop your head in your hand and watch him for a while. His face looks peaceful. No worries or cares. You watch his bare chest rising and falling softly as you hear his breathing match the movement. 

After a while you got out of bed and went to the toilet. When you came back out, Bucky was still sleeping, so you decided to carry on with your idea. You put on Bucky’s shirt that was huge on you and peeked out the door. You were glad it was early enough that nobody was walking around. 

You dart out of the door and down the stairs. You walk quickly to the kitchens and are thankful for the fact that Al is the only one in so early. You and Al had come to a mutual understanding about each other, he would even smile at you sometimes. 

You ignored each other in the kitchen as you cooked some breakfast. When you had gathered everything you wanted to take, ranging from toast and bacon to fruit, Al come over with a cart. He handed it to you, “take one of my carts. I’m assuming all that food ain’t just for you”. He gives you a knowing smile as he looks at what you’re wearing. 

You take the cart with a grateful smile as you load it up. You take the mini elevator up to the second floor and go straight to Bucky’s room. As you enter, Bucky is just starting to sit up. You see his face go from confusion to surprise and something that looked like happiness. 

He gives you a smile, “I was wondering where you were, I was worried for a second”. 

You place the cart by his side of the bed and then jump on him. You sit with your legs either side of him, “well, no need to worry because I’m back and I brought food”. 

He pulls you to him and starts nuzzling your neck, “mmm, you did bring food and it looks delicious in my shirt”. He nuzzles you again and you giggle starting to pull away from him. But before you can retreat completely he captures your lips with his. 

You respond instantly, and the kiss begins to deepen, but you pull away, “as much as I would love to…you need to eat. You said you’re super busy today, so you need to eat real food”. 

He takes your hands in his and kisses them, “thank you Doll, but before I do, I have to ask…are you sure this is what you want?”. 

You knew what he was on about the moment his face became serious again, “yes Buck. This is what I want. You are what I want, mob and all”. 

You both start eating as Bucky speaks again, “okay, well since this is official, I would like you to accompany me to a business party of sorts”. 

You munch on some toast, “sounds fun, do the other mob people bring their partners?”. 

Bucky nods as he reaches for more food, “yes, the ones that have partners and spouses. Some have partners and keep them a secret, but as much as I would like to do that I can’t since you also have a role in my organisation. I don’t have the option of keeping you separate”. 

You trace patterns on his chest with your fingers, “I can see you’re worrying about that, but its okay, I trust you and Steve and Sam. Plus, I knew what I was agreeing to when I accepted the role”. 

Bucky watches you for a few moments before nodding. You ask a question to take his mind away from that a bit, “so, when is it? And what exactly is it for?”. 

Bucky shrugs, “its in a few days and it’s a gathering that a business associate of mine, Darren Mathews, puts together for all his business partners as a thank you for business and an opportunity for more”. 

You nod and then look at Bucky in alarm, “I don’t have anything to wear. I’m assuming its all fancy. I mean I haven’t even stepped into a restaurant for years”. 

Bucky places a hand on either side of you and flips the both of you. You shriek at the unexpected movement. You’re now on your back as Bucky hovers above you, “you don’t have to worry about it. I’m going to get you a dress. Although, if it were really up to me I’d have you going in my shirt…”. 

He leans down for another kiss and let’s just say Bucky got to have both breakfasts that morning. 

War of Wolves Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @scuzmunkie @viperslunatic @loving-life-my-way @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @ranting-introvert @rinkashirikitateku @duhh-danielly @boundtomyfate 

[rhysismydaddy]

Living with a Spy - Feysand Headcannon

Synopsis: Feyre finds out her husband of four years is a spy for the CIA. It doesn’t go over well. 

________________________________________________________________

Feyre sat on the toilet, a towel pressed to her mouth to stifle her sobs, and let herself cry for the first time in three days. 

For three days, she’d been stoic. The beautiful, stoic, perfect wife most men would pray for. 

She knew it was driving Rhysand crazy. 

She also knew she didn’t care.

He’d lost the right to be mad or disappointed or upset with her a long time ago. 

She heard the sheets ruffle in their room. The room with their bed. The room she’d shared with him for almost four years. 

How stupid she’d been. To sleep next to someone she didn’t even know. 

Another sob escaped her.

“Baby,” he said softly from the other side of the door. “Please come out. I can hear you crying.”

She rolled her eyes, flicking him off, then wiped her tears and got up. When she opened the door, she made sure to avoid his eyes. She knew what she’d see if she looked in them-- despair and regret and love. So much love.

But it didn’t matter.

It didn’t change who he was... what he’d done. What he does.

She walked around him and crawled into bed, making sure to stay close to the edge. If he touched her, she was pretty sure she’d lose it. 

He sighed, opened and closed his mouth a couple times, then got into bed and turn the light out. 

“Feyre, please-”

She let out the most unbelievable snore she’d ever heard. 

It was silent, then a soft chuckle reached her ears. “I know you’re awake. You don’t even snore. You’re a terrible liar.”

Another tear spilled down her cheek. “Yes,” she whispered, body shaking with held in rage and sadness, “But you’re good enough for the both of us.”

It was the first thing she’d said to him in three days, and it seemed to cut him in half. 

She could tell he was running a hand over his face, contemplating how to get her to forgive him.

He’s wasting his time, she thought sadly.

___________________________________________________________

Eight hours later, she opened her eyes and knew the other side of the bed would be empty when she turned over.

He’d be downstairs by now, grabbing his thermos full of black coffee, and checking his email as he walked out the door. She knew everything about his day. About him. Or so she’d thought. 

So when she turned over to find him staring straight at her, she was understandable surprised. 

He looked equally as shocked as she screamed and fell out of the bed. 

His deep purple eyes were concerned as he peered over the side of the bed at her. “Are you afraid of me?” 

He sounded... heartbroken.

His voice, his eyes, the look on his face... it pushed her over the edge. She broke into sobs, unable to get off the floor. 

“Baby,” he murmured, climbing off the floor and kneeling next to her. 

The hand he laid on her shoulder, the comfort it gave her, disgusted her. 

“Don’t touch me!” she yelled, getting to her feet and starting to pace.

He rose and sat on the edge of their bed, then practically growled, “What can I do? Tell me what to do to make this better.”

She whirled on him and pointed at a finger at his devastatingly beautiful face. “Four years! Four years of marriage! Of lies!”

“No! Four years of-”

“You lied to me. Every day you left for work and came back and kissed me and made love to me and slept next to me and... you lied to me. Our marriage is a lie. I don’t know you.” It was breaking her heart. He was breaking her heart.

His head dropped. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” 

“No, Rhys, you don’t get off that easy. You shouldn’t have told me now. You should’ve told me six years ago when we met.”

“I couldn’t tell you. They’d come after you-”

She exploded. “Don’t pretend to have lied to me every day of our marriage to protect me. I’m a grown fucking woman. I can protect myself.”

“Not from the CIA.”

“You’re a spy! You’re a liar and a spy and a murder. I sleep next to someone whose hands are covered with blood. And I’m supposed to act like that’s okay? For four years, every morning when you’ve left, I thought--I knew--you were going to the university. You know why? Because that’s what you told me! And I believed you! Like an idiot!”

Until three days ago, when she’d gone to visit him at work and learned their was no one by the name of Rhysand Azara working today. 

He sprung to his feet and started pacing. If they kept this up much longer, they’d wear a hole in the floor. 

“You’re not an idiot, Feyre. It’s my job to lie to people. They told me to lie to you. They created my cover at the university, and it’s important it stays in tact. You can’t tell-”

“That’s the worst part!” she yelled, furious. “You’ve made me a liar now, too! I-”

She snapped her mouth shut and grabbed her stomach, then sprinted toward the bathroom and slammed the door. She pressed the lock and threw herself down barely in time to throw up into the toilet. 

He was banging on the other side of the door, which was stupid, since a spy like himself could probably pick the lock with ease.

“Let me in,” he said, faking a calm demeanor. 

She ignored him.

Flushing the toilet, she stood up on shaky legs and started the shower. Hopefully he’d give up and leave for “work” by the time she got out. 

Twenty minutes later, she cursed as she walked out of the bathroom and practically tripped over his long legs. 

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” She smacked the top of his head in annoyance as she walked past him, surprised when it made her feel a little better. 

“Feyre, I’m so sorry. Please. Forgive me. I wanted to tell you.” She looked at him, at the devastation in his eyes. 

“Then you should have.” 

Another wave of nausea rolled over her, and she grimaced.

“Seriously? The sight of me makes you sick now? That’s wonderful,” he said bitterly as he climbed off the ground and stalked to his closet, grabbing a sweatshirt. 

“What are you doing? You aren’t going to “work”?” she asked with bite, using air quotes to punctuate her point. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “No. I’m not going to “work.” I’m going to stay here until you don’t feel like vomiting every time you look at me.” 

She narrowed hers back. 

Feyre knew he had more to say, knew he wanted to argue more, but she turned and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. 

It was probably because her husband was a liar and life had no purpose, but she didn’t feel like eating anything. In fact, everything in her fridge made her gag. 

She started a pot of tea, figuring that would calm the nausea. 

By the time she was dipping her tea bag into her steaming mug, her husband was sitting across from her at their kitchen table. Staring at her. 

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she whispered, “That time you went to Colorado for a conference... where were you really?” 

He was silent. Then, “Prague.” 

She nodded, gracefully accepting that their entire life was a lie. “And when you got “mugged” coming home from work?”

His eyes closed. “Feyre.”

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

“I was taken hostage by the Chinese government, who suspected I was FBI.” 

She nodded again, forcing her eyes to stay closed until she didn’t have tears in them. “How stupid of them.”

He’d been captured and tortured and she’d thought he’d been robbed. 

“What’s your name?”

“What?” He sounded genuinely surprised at that.

“I’m assuming it’s a cover. That this-” she gestured to their house, to herself, to him, “is a cover. So what’s your real name?”

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, suddenly angry. “Don’t you dare tell me you believe that shit. You’re not a cover. I fell in love when I was on leave from the CIA. You know that. Don’t think for one second our marriage isn’t real.”

She shrugged.

“Feyre, baby, you know I love you. You know I do.”

“I did know that. But you don’t lie to the people you love.” She got up from the table. She didn’t know where she was going, but she couldn’t look at him any longer. 

“Feyre-”

“You knew!” she whirled around, unable to keep everything inside. “You knew what it would do to me to live with a liar. That’s why you didn’t tell me. Not to protect me, but because you knew I’d been lied to, deceived, before. You knew I’d leave you if you lied to me.” She whispered the last part, but he heard her perfectly.

He sprang from his seat, seemingly coming unraveled. Rhys ran a hand through his hair, looking panicked. 

“Please. Please don’t leave me. We can move. I’ll leave the CIA and we can go somewhere-”

“Rhys,” she whispered.

He stopped pacing and came to stand in front of her. 

She didn’t want to, but she made herself say, “I need some time. To think. Can you...”

His usually tan and beautiful face was as white as a sheet. “You want me to leave?” 

No, I want you to stay and hug me and tell me it was real. That you love me and you’re still the man I married. 

She nodded. 

His eyes shuttered, but he grabbed his sweatshirt and keys and left.

Feeling like a stranger in her own body, she walked back up the stairs, got in bed, and closed her eyes. 

An hour later, when it was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to sleep, she sat up. Then sprinted to the bathroom and knelt in front of the toilet again. 

She sat back on her heels, eyes narrowed. Then she shook her head. 

No no no no no no

She ran downstairs, grabbed her keys, and headed to the store. 

__________________________________________________________

It was well into the night when he came back. 

She heard him unlock the front door. Heard his near silent steps as he walked up to the stairs, up to their bedroom, up to the window.

“Feyre?” he asked, sticking his head out the window to find her sitting on the flat, secluded space of roof outside their window. 

As he climbed out to join her, she asked, “Do you remember? Six weeks ago?”

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously. 

She leveled a look at him. “Six weeks ago. The last time we were on the roof.”

He’d waited until the darkest part of the night, then brought her outside and made love to her on the roof, under the stars. It was ridiculous and romantic and...

“Of course I remember. But what does that-” 

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted in a rushed whispered.

He was silent. 

“I think it was the night on the roof,” she continued, ignoring his still stature. “Although, who knows, really. We have sex all the time. Sign of our super healthy relationship.” She laughed softly. 

Rhysand was frozen next to her--unmoving, unspeaking. 

“It’s funny, really. We tried for a year, and when shit hits the fan and I find out I’m married to a stranger, I find out I’m pregnant. Ridiculous.” Her life was a joke. 

“You’re pregnant,” he whispered.

“I’m pregnant.” 

“I’m going to be a father.”

She looked at him, her heart breaking into a million pieces at the look--the joy--on his face. “No.”

“Feyre-”

She shook her head. “Please don’t. Don’t make this any harder. Because if it’s any harder, I won’t make it.” She wiped a tear off her cheek, steeling herself for what she had to say. “I will not allow this baby to grow up with a father who lies and kills and manipulates people for a living. I’d rather... do it alone.”

Tears flowed out of his eyes, and he whispered, “Please don’t-”

“You have a choice, Rhysand. You can chose me, and this baby. Or you can chose your job, your career. This child will not have a father who lies to them every day of their life. This child-”

“I quit my job four hours ago,” he blurted, cutting her off. 

Every thought left her head. “Oh.” 

He nodded, smiling softly. “My boss threatened to neuter me, but I told him to take it up with you. I choose you, Feyre. Always. I don’t love my job, not the way I love you. I should’ve never even taken the position. I’m here. I’ll always be here. Unless you... unless you won’t let me be here.” His voice broke. 

“Rhys,” she whispered.

He nodded again. “I’m so sorry I lied to you. I didn’t tell you at first because I thought it didn’t matter, that it was the same as going to work. Then I didn’t tell you because I knew... I knew it would hurt you.”

“Rhys,” she repeated.

“But I want you to know,” he said with quiet resolve. “That if it’s what you really want, I’ll leave. I won’t force you to-”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she murmured. 

He paused.

“I want you to tell me everything. And I want you to never to lie to me again. About anything.” 

He nodded, another tear escaping those magnificent eyes. 

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know how I can do this without you, but I can’t live with-”

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise. And I’ll never lie to this child.” 

She leaned in and grabbed either side of his face. 

“If you lie to me again, Rhysand, I’ll get Nesta to kick your ass. No matter how much I love you.”

He cradled her face with both palms. “Okay.”

“And I’ll get Cassian to help,” she continued, smiling softly. 

“Nesta won’t need help, but okay.” He grinned back at her. 

“I love you, you stupid prick,” she murmured, sliding her hands in his hair. 

He pressed his lips to hers softly. “I love you, too, Feyre darling. You’re going to be a great mom.”

________________________________

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Baby Bat

Wing Chart

[Wing AU]

[UK Tour]

some Momward anyone? ;)

TW: Broken bones, vomit

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

“She’s gonna get pummeled into the ground…”

“I told her not to do it…”

“She thinks she’s showing off…”

The ridicule of the flock was soon cut off by introductions given by an eager cardinal. He flapped his bright red wings, gesturing with one arm to a feathered man on his left.

“On my right we have Zeke of the peregrine falcons!” He shouted. “And on my left we have Joan of the Honduran bats!”

Joan flicked her ears. Her nerves were running wild. She had never cockfought before, but she was so desperate to impress the others that she threw herself into the opportunity when it presented itself.

“Wings up, talons ready, FIGHT!”

Joan pumped her wings down and shot into the air. With such a large wingspan, she was able to get herself rather high, but peregrine falcons were known for their speed and it wasn’t long before Zeke caught up to her. He reared back and then slammed one of his wings into Joan’s stomach.

For a moment, Joan is falling. Fast.

She flapped her useless wings and managed to catch herself, but Zeke was already upon her again. She twisted upwards and flew away rather than fighting. 

The crowd below her was getting antsy. They started to hate her even more. She needed to fight back.

Whirling around, Joan’s attempted strike was countered with a heavy blow to her head.

Joan plummeted.

She fell at an incline, too dizzy to catch herself. When she hit the ground wing-first, there’s a horrible CRUNCH, but her body continued to go forward, ripping off skin and fur in the process. When she finally rolled to a halt, there’s a large patch of white fur missing, leaving an ugly bare spot. Blood dyes raw, pale flesh red, only adding to the eyesore.

What’s worse? She was sprawled out right in front of her flock.

Joan didn’t dare look at them. She tried to push herself up, tried to shake off the pain, but then a boot drove into her stomach and she collapsed onto her throbbing wing. Her spine arched and she couldn’t choke back the cry of pain that wormed out of her throat.

From above her, Zeke smirks as he rolls her over. He grabs onto her wounded wing and lifts her up before laughing.

“This was too easy.” He said.

“It looks like we have a winner!” Warbled the cardinal.

The crowd parted soon after, as watching a bat moan and groan on the street wasn’t that fun. Joan’s heavy wings kept her grounded no matter how hard she tried to stand up. Her flock weren’t in any hurry to help her.

“You did, uhh, great!” Maria said, which only made Joan feel worse.

“Don’t…lie to me,” The bat grunted. She pulled away and tried to walk on her own, but the pain in her wing was too severe. Her small body just couldn’t support itself anymore. Aragon swooped in before she could break her nose on the pavement when she fell forward.

“Easy,” The dragon chided lightly, “Your wing is broken, Joan. Don’t push yourself.”

Almost on cue, the bones shift beneath her skin. Joan’s stomach bubbled in warning.

“I-I think I’m gonna-”

She definitely was.

Nearby avians either snicker in amusement or scoff in disgust when the bat- just a bat. just a useless bat. just a stupid fucking bat- dropped down to her knees, throwing up all over the street. Joan cringed as some of her dinner splashed out onto her hands and knees, which makes her stomach roil like a nest full of restless snakes. She vomited again.

Aragon, not phased by the mess Joan was making, crouched down next to her and began to rub her back gently, but made sure to stay away from the injured area. She coiled one arm around Joan’s heaving stomach to support her in case she passed out, while also brushing her hair out of the way. Howard was making herself useful unfurling her huge pink wings and flaring them at anyone who stared for too long. The other simply stood around, not really caring.

“You’re okay, love, you’re okay,” Aragon murmured in that loving, motherly voice of hers. The one that made Joan’s heart leap every time she heard it. The one that Joan didn’t think she deserved. “You’re going to be okay. Just get it out. Then we’ll go home and get you all better, alright?”

Thank god broken wings weren’t something that required medical attention. Avians knew how to treat wounded wings, and just going home and being out of eyesight would make Joan feel a tiny bit better.

The journey back to the house was torturous. Joan insisted on walking on her own, but it came to a point where she was silently sobbing in agony. Her flock saw the way her shoulders shook as she staggered and struggled forward. Eventually, Aragon had to butt in, and she did so by scooping Joan up into her arms. The bat- the stupid, useless, good-for-nothing bat- squealed in alarm, but couldn’t do much in her exhausted, pained state. Her dewclaws latched onto Aragon’s shoulders and held tight.

Much to Joan’s dismay, she was taken to the queen’s house, but decided to keep her mouth shut as she’s carried into the bathroom and set on the rim of the tub. She winced when Aragon prodded her wing, but tried not to move.

“You busted it pretty badly, love,” Aragon said softly. “I’m more worried about that, though.” She nods at the bare patch. “Hold still, okay? I’m going to clean it.”

Joan struggled not to cry out in pain when an antiseptic-soaked rag was pressed to the wounded area. The sting morphed into clarity- something she told herself she deserved for being so pathetic and worthless. It gave her something to grasp onto.

“Shh, shh,” Aragon murmured.

Apparently, she hadn’t been trying hard enough to hold herself together because an unbidden whimper escaped her throat. She choked back another noise before it could come free.

“There. I’m done, darling. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. Could the dragon not see how terrible the bat she was taking care of was? How it was a waste of time? How she was a lost cause?

“Your fur might take awhile to grow back. You don’t have to play for the show tomorrow if you don’t want to. We all understand.”

“No, I’m…I’m fine.” Joan choked out.

Aragon frowned a little, but nodded.

“I’m going to put a splint on your wing. Just hold still for me, love.”

———

Joan didn’t take the painkillers she was given. Not that they would help. No, she wallowed in the pain until it became a deep, slicing-like sensation that pounded so viciously it had her running to the bathroom again in the middle of the night.

She hadn’t been able to sleep. She had passed out on the couch from the pain, however her dreams were tainted with the sound of bones crunching and ripping free from wings. It wasn’t her body that was being mauled, though. It was Jane, it was Howard, it was Anne, it was Aragon all being bent into grotesque positions because she hadn’t been able to protect them. When they called out to her, asked her why she didn’t help them, she could not answer.

Joan woke up in tears. If it was from the night terror or the agony radiating in her back, she didn’t know.

Sleep was impossible after that. If it wasn’t the pain, then it was the discomfort of the splint bound to her wing. If it wasn’t the splint, then it was the fear of seeing her mind create images of her dear flock dying brutally. If it wasn’t the fear, then it was the deep-seeded hatred she had for herself.

Eventually, she had enough of tossing and turning and putting pressure on her back. She went to get a drink of water, but now she was in the bathroom, coughing and wheezing and sputtering. Her body was wracked in shivers, but sweat rolled down her face. God, she felt miserable, but she must have looked even more pathetic now.

When she raised her head, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Howard at the doorway. Right, her bedroom was nearby. The worried look on her face made Joan’s stomach twist in guilt and she had to turn away to cough up more bile. When the flow of stomach acid stopped lurching up her throat, she set her head in her folded arms on the toilet seat.

“How long have you been like this, kiddo?” Howard asked, taking a step inside.

“Nnng…” Joan moaned, flushing the toilet before teetering backwards against the wall. Tears pricked in her eyes when she practically crushed her wing against her body and the plaster. Howard noticed and clucked sympathetically.

“Done?” Howard asked.

“I-I think.” Joan panted. She tried to stand up, but her legs were weak and Howard had to steady her.

“Easy, kid,” The dragon said, “Easy. I’ve got you. Let’s take this slow, okay? I won’t let you fall.”

Getting back over to the couch took a lot longer than it should have, but, eventually, Joan collapsed down into the soft cushions. She winces when her wing throbbed again.

“Did you take the painkillers? I thought they would last at least until morn…” Howard’s eyes widened when Joan shamefully shook her head. “You didn’t take them? At all?”

This time the bat- who needed to be shot down- nodded.

“Oh, honey,” Howard murmured. She moves closer and runs her fingers through Joan’s hair because she knew she liked that almost as much as when her ears or wings were stroked, but Howard knew better than to touch her wings right now. “Why? They were gonna make you feel better.”

Joan shrugged uselessly. She can’t get her stupid mouth open to answer or reply to relieve Howard’s concern.

“Sweetheart,” Howard opened a wing around Joan’s smaller body. “Is something wrong? Aside from your injury of course. You can tell me, you know?”

Suddenly, the dam Joan had spent so long trying to subdue feels as though it is about to burst. Her breath hitched and her eyes stung horribly and she felt more panic welling up. She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly losing control of herself like this, but Howard was looking at her so softly and the gentle touch around her is the sweetest thing she had ever felt and she had a sudden, awful, terrible urge to wrap her arms and wings around Howard- to be wrapped up, to be held.

“Joan? Hey, honey, are you okay?”

That does it.

Joan can’t even attempt to stop the tears that are pouring out, the hiccup that escaped her lips or her face from crumpling horrendously. All she can do is swallow down the sobs as best she can, hunch forward until she’s doubled over her knees, and shield her body with her wings to hide her face that is steadily flushing red from embarrassment.

“I…s-sorry, Katherine....I…”

It’s pathetic. She’s pathetic. She can’t even get the sentence out without choking on her rapidly hitching breaths. So she snaps her mouth shut- the last thing she wants is to start sobbing for real.

Minutes passed in silence as she struggled to swallow down her emotions to no avail, gasping for breath and fighting for composure. What made the situation worse is the pure, unadulterated shock she can feel radiating from Howard. And most likely the disgust- Howard is surely looking for a way to escape, Joan thinks, she wouldn’t want to be stuck with herself either. With a sniveling, pathetic excuse for a friend, a lady in waiting, an avian, a human being-

A gentle hand grabs her uninjured wing and slowly pulls it away from her face. Joan can hardly make out Howard’s worried, heartbroken expression through the blurriness of tears before she feels herself being tugged forwards, an arm wrapping around her back and another hand cupping the back of her head. They don’t stop pulling until Joan’s face is nestled snugly into Howard’s chest- forcing Joan’s brain to a stuttering stop. For a moment, she feels too startled to even cry. But then the warm, protective wings wrap her up and she’s whimpering all over again.

Never. Never in a million years did she ever think anything like this would happen- that her ex-queen would wrap her up so tenderly, holding on gently like she was an actual baby bat, precious and breakable.

It’s--

It’s too much. Too overwhelming, yet it's everything she’s ever dreamed of. Joan wanted to shy away from the touch, push Howard to the ground and yell at her and beat her into a bloody pulp with her wings and claws that should have been able to do lots of damage, make her hate Joan even more than she probably already does (like Joan deserved). At the same time, however, she wanted to hold on tightly and never let go, wanted to be cradled like this forever.

She settled for shakily returning the embrace with one wing, holding on with her weak dewclaws, while her trembling hands twisted themselves up in Howard’s nightshirt. Her ears fold back and she can’t stop her shoulders from tensing and shaking just as hard as her hands. Tears continued to leak out, but she stayed silent. She felt like she was going to shake apart in this sweet hold, especially when Howard began to speak ever so gently in her ear.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright. You’ll be okay, Joan.” Her voice was so soothing and velvety, and it sends shivers down Joan’s spine.

“I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

Joan felt truly ruined.

She’s wanted to hear those words for so long. She’s wanted to be held like this all her life. She can’t. It’s too much. And, before she can stop it, an ugly, pained sound a kicked puppy would make escapes her throat, somewhere in between a whimper and a sob. She felt Howard stiffen a little and expected her to pull away. To push Joan off of her, tell her what a nuisance she’s surely being, beat her over the head with her wings until her skull cracks open and her pathetic excuse for a life finally ends. 

But instead, she was squeezed tighter and her back was rubbed with more confidence. It breaks what little is left of her composure and the next moment, Joan is outright sobbing.

Her cries felt like they were being ripped out of her body, leaving her absolutely mortified with embarrassment. She can’t remember the last time she cried this hard and it most certainly had never been in the vicinity of another person, definitely not a queen. She felt terrible for desperately clutching Howard to her, for staining her clothes with tears and god know what else. For burdening her with this, when Joan was only suffering what she deserved, what she brought upon herself--but she can’t find the strength to stop.

Her shoulders jumped violently with every gasping sob and she tried to calm down, to make herself quiet so she won’t wake up the rest of the flock, but it’s so hard when she felt so raw. It doesn’t help that Howard was rocking her, shushing her so gently and practically cooing in her ear, making her feel cared for…and loved.

She cried for what felt like hours and, after a while, her breaths were no longer heaving, but stuttering. The tears were still flowing but it's slower now, too.

Exhaustion set deep into her muscles and she could only really lean against Howard because her wings have gone numb and they’re too heavy to move 

“Feeling a little better?” Howard asked softly, so softly.

Joan shrugged a little, snuggling closer because she did not want to be released. Not yet. The fear was still present, as was the dull pain and the raging hatred.

“I-I just…” She screwed her eyes shut. Oh god, the tears are coming again. “Kat, I hate myself so f-fucking much.” Her voice cracked horribly on the swear and her face turned impossibly red. “I-I don’t know why. B-but ever since we were reincarnated, I just- I can’t stand myself, Kat. I’m so useless. I can’t even work my wings properly, and don’t even get me started on how I fantasize about removing them, pulling them out, breaking them beyond repair-“ She gasped sharply, choking for a moment and jerking out of the embrace. “Oh my god, Kat, I’m such a freak. I’m so sick.”

Her hands flew to the crown of her head as she doubled over, pulling hard on her hair. Immediately, Howard jumped into action, easing her grip open and taking her hands in her own.

“Breathe, love, breathe. In and out. Here, follow me, okay?” Howard took in a deep, exaggerated breath, but the poor little bat in front of her struggled.

Joan shook her head, pulling her wings close around herself.

“I-I can’t.” She whimpered. “H-hold me again. Hold me, Kat, p-please.” Her words come out in pained gasps.

Howard doesn’t hesitate. She pulled Joan all the way into her lap, wrapping her back up in her wings. The poor bat- the useless useless useless little bat with wings too big for her emaciated, pathetic little body- was shaking so violently in her arms.

“Joan, I need you to try to breathe. Please, honey. You’re going to pass out if you don’t.”

Oh how she hoped she passed out. She hoped she suffocated and finally fucking died. For good.

But the pain from oxygen starvation became too much and Joan’s body forced her to take in a sharp breath. She didn’t want to do it again, but then Howard praised her and it sent her head spinning because the love she was being spoken with was all she ever wanted.

“That’s very good, baby, that’s so good.” Howard murmured and there’s a warm smile on her lips. “Can you do it again for me?”

Joan listened this time, only because she liked the tone she was being spoken to with.

“I’m sorry,” She croaked. Her throat strained when she spoke. Her lungs needed more air, but she just wanted to apologize. “I-I didn’t…”

“Shh,” Howard soothed, “We can talk later, okay? Or tomorrow morning. For now, just breathe. Sleep, if you need to. You must be exhausted.”

She was. She really, really was.

“P-promise you’ll be here when I wake up?” She stuttered weakly.

Howard kissed the top of her head before saying, “I promise, little bat.”

[nxrthmizu]

Daminette December Day 9: 'Soulmate AU'

@daminette-december2019

(More of the Minuit AU, but now we're back in present time. Master Fu had given it to Damian before he moved to Paris, and Damian and Marinette / Minuit and Ladybug have never met)

---

Honestly, what did he expect. 

Paris. The City of Love. 

---

Damian had long given up on finding his soulmate. Ever since young, his mother had enforced the idea that soulmates were useless and only a liability- And he had grown to think that he didn’t have a soulmate. Even if he did have one, what kind of soulmate would want him back?

He’d always ignored his soul mark. In fact, he had been ashamed of it. He’d always hidden it from his mother, not wanting to know what she’d think of it. 

The print on his ankle, where his soulmate was supposed to touch him the first time. A hand mark, where her hand clamps around his ankle. He honestly can’t picture a scenario where his soulmate would just lie down and grasp his ankle, which just made the entire thing even more ridiculous. 

Even when he was living with Bruce, he didn’t care about his mark, and since none of his siblings ever asked, he never bothered to mention it. 

He’d given up on all hope of a soulmate- But who knew that she was waiting in the City of Love for him. 

---

It was Alfred’s idea. 

An old friend of Alfred, a man named Fu, had came to visit the Wayne manor, and the moment Fu’s eyes landed on him, he could feel the amount of chaos radiating off the boy. 

While Damian appeared calm and composed on the outside, in the inside... He wasn’t that much calm and composed. More chaotic. His thoughts, whenever he let them free- Would rocket off the walls of his mind, echoing in doubts and all the memories in which he wasn’t good enough. There was always the ‘What if’, and Damian tried his very best to restrain his inner chaos. 

The moment Plagg set eyes on him, the god of destruction claimed his new kitten. Agreste was deemed unfit by Plagg himself, and Ladybug had only aided in taking the cat miraculous away and setting the cat god free. 

And now Fu was looking for a new holder. 

And Damian just happened to be that holder. 

And so, thanks to Alfred’s wonderful suggestion, Damian was shipped off to Paris.

---

‘Annoying’ would be the one word that Damian would use to describe Plagg. 

First of all, the tiny black thing wouldn’t stop calling him ‘Kid’. 

Second, the thing kept insisting for cheese. And Damian had to explain that ‘No, there isn’t any camembert on the plane, you stupid little-’ 

And there was also the problem of the fact that no matter how hard he tried, Damian couldn't force the ring off his finger. In all the hurry of shipping him to Paris to aid Ladybug, no one paused to think about the fact that perhaps, Damian didn't want to be the next Chat Noir. 

The moment he landed in Paris, he had dragged himself to the toilet to begin an intense conversation with Plagg. 

“Take it back.” Damian hissed. “I’ve told you, I don’t want to be the cat holder.” 

Plagg hissed right back. “Ladybug needs a partner!” 

“And why must I be the candidate?” Damian was really fed up at this point. 

“Because Agreste was an abusive cat and he was unfit! He was putting the lady in danger! She needs a competent cat!” 

Damian paused at this, gritting his teeth. 

“Fine.” 

---

He had imagined that he would meet his spotted partner on a calm night where he would convince her to ask Plagg to unclaim him. He did not, absolutely did not imagine that it would be a life-or-death situation. 

The Akuma bell rang, and he ran out of the school, glancing at the sky where the victim was laughing maniacally. Running back in, against the outflow of frantic students, he darted into a toilet stall, hurrying the god to tell him the magic words. 

I’m going to regret this, he thought as he uttered the words: “Plagg, claws out!” 

He ran out into the open, catching the surprised and somewhat offended glare of a blonde. Anger flashed across his mind as it occurred to him that the certain blonde was Agreste- The abusive Chat who wouldn’t take no from the spotted lady. According to Plagg, even though the lady had told him multiple times, Chat kept insisting that they were soul mates even though they weren’t, and he even tried to force a soulmate bond in between them. He bit back a growl at the boy, but continued on his track to where he could already spot the lone red superhero fending off the akuma. 

Pulling out the baton from his back, he slashed the akuma in the stomach, jumping over two rooftops as he did so, landing on his feet lightly. Ladybug didn’t spare him a second glance and continued to push the akuma back with swinging her yoyo back and forth, stopping the victim’s advance. He could see her eyes calculating the entire fight, and she was- Oh. She was eyeing the pouch on the victim- Which must be where the akuma was, Damian figured. 

Jumping forward, he slashed at the belt holding the pouch, grabbing it as he darted away, an impressed glance shining from the bluebell eyes belonging to the superhero. 

“Catch!” He yelled, tossing it to her as the akuma chased him angrily, watching with a questioning expression as she broke the object and caught the butterfly with her yoyo. 

But before she could utter the magic words, the akuma swiped at his legs angrily, causing him to lose his balance as he cried out in pain, slipping down the roof as he began to fall towards the ground head-first.

“No!” He heard her scream just as a hand caught his left ankle- Right where his mark was. Even under the leather material, he could feel the colours bloom where she’d touched him. Grunting a little, she pulled him back up, purifying the akuma after she did so. 

“You okay?” She asked, panting a little. He was quite impressed- He wasn’t light, but she still managed to drag him up from the roof edge all on her own. She wasn’t a girl to be messed with. 

He was quiet for a bit, because after the initial shock faded, he suddenly realised OH she was his soulmate. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly, contemplating on what to say next. 

She shot him a friendly smile. 

She didn’t know that they were soulmates yet. She would only realise when he touched her mark- 

He panicked internally, because where was her mark? What if he touched the wrong part and missed her mark?

“Well, I’ll get going now. My transformation is almost over. I’ll meet you tonight for patrol?” She didn’t give him time to answer, and he supposed she was in quite a hurry as she was on her last spot on her earrings. 

Tonight, then. 

---

Plagg was feeling very triumphant. 

“Ha! Would you look at that! She’s your soulmate!” 

He rolled his eyes, swatting the god aside as he headed for his first class- Well, it wasn’t supposed to be his first class, but the actual first class had been taken up by akuma fighting time. 

The teacher had shot him a friendly smile and asked him to introduce himself. 

“I’m Damian Fu, nice to meet you.” They had agreed that he went as Fu’s adopted son. 

“Marinette, as the class president, could you please take care of our new student?” 

‘Marinette’ nodded and gave him a small smile as he headed to the empty seat next to her at the back of the class. 

“Hey, did you hear about that new Cat that fought with Ladybug today?” He heard one of the students say. Glancing at the first row, he noticed that the blonde flinched upon the question. 

“Yeah, I wonder what’s his name.” Another student added. Huh, he hadn’t thought of that yet. 

“My name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” The dark-haired girl introduced herself. “It’s nice to meet you, Damian.” She smiled sweetly. 

“And you too.” He replied, already thinking about the night’s patrol. 

---

“Plagg, claws out!” 

Once he was on the rooftops, he realised there was a problem. Where would he find Ladybug? But it wouldn’t be that hard, right? She was running around in a red suit. Probably easy to spot. 

But the thing he never thought of was that she was sensible and she was wearing a black jacket and black tights above her suit. 

It took him more than an hour to find her. And when he did finally find her, she was resting at the top of the Eiffel Tower. 

“I looked for you for an hour.” He panted. 

“I waited for an hour.” She replied with a cocky smirk. “We’ll meet here everynight from now on?” 

“Sure.” He panted, still trying to catch his breath. 

“See you, then.” She smiled, already swinging off her yoyo to leave. 

“W-Wait!” 

He rushed towards her, touching the tip of one of her pigtails before it blossomed into a million colours. She swung off, because, well, physics- But he chuckled a little as she swung back, cheeks blushing and eyes shining. 

“I- Wha- I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.” She gasped, forcing the words out. “And all this time-” She stopped herself, flushed. “Well, I suppose since we’re soulmates- I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

He was surprised, honestly. The class president? 

“Damian Wayne.” 

[berjhawn]

In My Head - Ch 5 - Bittersweet

Warnings: arguing; fluff, slight angst

Pairings: Geralt X Reader x Bucky ; Bucky X Reader x Geralt ; Geralt x Reader ; Bucky X Reader

Summary: Girl dreams about boy, girl meets boy, chaos ensues.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this short little series. I love the witcher so much that i have bought the games and even the books so i can learn all the lore. please let me know what you think. I’ll be uploading a part a day until the end should be at most 10 parts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I couldn’t believe that I was actually here with Geralt. Even now holding tightly to his massively muscular form it felt like a dream. I couldn’t help the tears of relief that stung my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I breath him in, the scent of onions filling my nose making me chuckle.

“Do you smell like onions?” I ask as I pull away from him slightly, my arms still wrapped around him.

“Do I?” He asks a chuckle leaving his lips. “I think Jaskier might have mentioned it before.”

“With all the leather you wear, I was expecting you to smell like that.” I add playfully.

We stood there for a moment just holding each other and I could feel deep down that this was right. Like I was supposed to be here in his arms. I lean forward again and placing my head on his chest let out a sigh of contentment. His hand reaches up and I smile as I feel him run his fingers through my hair.

“I just have to ask you one thing…” I start pulling away again to meet his amber eyes. “What are you wearing? I mean did you lose a bet?” I joke as I pull away completely to look him up a down making him chuckle.

“It was Jaskier’s idea, he bought my protection for tonight.”

“Ah, has he been putting his sausage where it doesn’t belong?” I ask and he nods. “Don’t tell me you’re actually gonna make him pay?”

“I’m still thinking on it.” He replies looking down for a moment before his brow furrows. “I hate to ruin the mood… but why are you here, or more importantly, how did you get here?”

“Mood definitely ruined.” I reply taking a step back as I remember why I’m here.

“(Name),” Geralt presses.

“As much as I want to say that I am here for you, I’m afraid I’d only be partly telling you the truth.” I start my eyes looking back the way we came to see Thor and Wanda looking over at us. “When you were in Witcher training, did you ever hear about someone, who possibly shared a link with someone like we do?”

“I had heard of one such person,” Geralt starts his brow furrowing slightly. “But he’s been dead for years now.”

“Thank god,” I say quickly as I let out a sigh of relief.

“Why so curious?”

“You’ve heard me mention Hydra when you are visiting me in your dreams right?” I ask and he nods. “The mage I asked you about, apparently they shared a link with someone in Hydra and they were going to try to make their own Witchers. Naturally, I couldn’t let that happen. But knowing that the mage is dead is enough for me and my coworkers.”

“And how did you come here?” He asks and I fold my arms over my chest.

“A portal, one my friend was so kind enough to open.”

“When will you go back?” He asks his brow furrowing.

“I should go back now,” I answer honestly. “But…” licking my lips I reach up to run a hand through my hair. “Now that I’ve found you… I don’t know if I want to go back.”

“Oh?” He questions.

“I mean, I know I should. Especially since…” I pause as a picture of Bucky fills my mind. I couldn’t bring myself to speak the words. I couldn’t look Geralt in the eyes and say I had to go back because I cared for another man. I really needed to sort out these feelings of mine; but how do I that?

“The man…” Geralt starts, voicing my worries, “The one… the one I always see you with. Will you go back to him?”

“Geralt…” I pause not even sure what to say.

My mind was racing. I had forgotten for a moment that he visited me when he was sleeping. If he visited me like I visited him then he would have seen me with Bucky. I mean what do you say in a moment like this? I am about to reply when the herald calls out that the Queen has returned. Geralt turns to look toward where the queen was coming in, her armor all covered in blood splatter. I look past her to see Thor and Wanda looking over at me nervously and I give them a quick nod.

“Geralt,” I call softly. Not loud enough to draw attention, but loud enough to get his attention. He turns back to look at me and I furrow my brow. “I’ll be right back.”

I could see in his eyes he didn’t want me to go, but I had to. I go to walk past him when he gently grabs my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine.

“And if I ask you not to go?” He inquiries his voice low.

“I…” A surge of electricity washes over me, beginning at our fingertips flowing up my arm until I feel it hit my soul. “I would st-”

“You lie, you little shite!” I hear a male yell out and I turn from Geralt to see a big red headed man puffing his chest out to a smaller man. “You’ve never faced so much as a bad meal in your life, never mind a manticore.”

“I’ve had manticores thrice as fat and ugly as you perish under my steel!”

“Under your bullshit, more like. How many stings has it got then?”

“Two!”

“Hah! Go away and shite!”

As the men continue to argue I take the chance to collect myself and frowning I pull my hand from his.

“Geralt, I have to-”

“Enough. We have a renowned guest here tonight. Perhaps he can declare which esteemed lord is telling the truth.” The queen calls out and I stand there unsure of what to do.

“Neither.” Geralt answers.

“Are you calling me a liar, old man?” The red headed noble asks anger in his voice. I clench my fist as I try not to get offended on Geralt’s behalf.

“The Butcher of Blaviken bleats utter nonsense.” Another noble adds and I can feel the anger radiating from Geralt. He looks over to Jaskier and I follow his gaze to see the bard subtly shaking his head. Geralt clenches his jaw before he speaks.

“Perhaps the lords encountered… rare subspecies of manticore.” Geralt lies easing the tension in the room. The queen laughs heartily.

“Perhaps our esteemed guest would like to entertain us with how he slayed the elves at the edge of the world?” She urges causing a mighty roar to fill the hall.

“There was no slaying. I had my arse kicked by a ragged band of elves. I was about to have my throat cut when Filavandrel let me go.”

“But the song?” Everyone questions and Geralt smirks.

“At least when Filavandrel’s blade kissed my throat, I didn’t shit myself.” He adds and I snort as I try to hide a laugh. “Which is all I can hope for you, good lords. At your final breath, a shitless death. But I doubt it.” He finishes and I look down to the floor and smile. Then straightening my back, I take this chance to slowly move to the shadows away from Geralt.

The queen mentioned something about Geralt joining her at her table and I watched as he glanced back to find me gone and then reluctantly made his way up to the head table. I quickly make my way over to where Thor and Wanda were. Reaching them I feel Wanda’s hand touch my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She asks and I bite my lips to keep the tears that were stinging my eyes.

“I can’t think about that right now.” Clearing my throat, I continue, “I spoke to him and I asked him if he had heard of someone else sharing our connection and he said yes, but thankfully, that mage is dead. Hydra has no way of making a Witcher army.”

“I guess, we go home.” I say and they nod.

“Well, why not enjoy the party at least while we are here?” Thor offers a smiling filling his lips.

“Thor,”

“Listen to me (Name), you don’t want to go back with regrets.” Thor interrupts causing me to glance to where Geralt is. “Take this moment to spend as much time with him as possible.”

“What if,” I start my eyes moving from Geralt down to my hands. “What if I don’t wanna go back? What if I wanted to stay?”

“As much as I would love to tell you to follow your heart, and you must have seen him in your dreams for a reason,” Wanda prattles.

“Please tell me there’s an end to this suspense.”

“You have a life back in our world. You have friends and family that love you and want you to be happy, but could you be happy here? I mean minus your tall, pale, and brooding over there. Are you sure you won’t miss the hustle and bustle of our live back home? I know for a fact you’ll miss the indoor plumbing, TV, and music.”

She had me there. I wouldn’t be able to live without a hot shower and an actual toilet that flushed. Granted, I could always have Tony make me a solar powered device that I could store music, movies, and shows on. God why was my life so complicated.

“All that is true.” I start a sigh leaving my lips. “But for tonight. I just want to take Thor’s advice and enjoy this moment, while I have it.”

“Good, let’s get drunk. Shall we?” Thor asks and I chuckle as I nod.

“Not too drunk though, I don’t want to make any bad decisions.” I reply making them chuckle.

“So, what did he say when you told him that you saw him in your dreams?” Wanda asks and I smile sadly.

“That he saw me too.” I answer causing both of them to stare at me.

“You mean…” Wanda looks past me to where Geralt sat next to the queen still looking annoyed. “The link works both ways?”

“Yeah, I have to admit I was ecstatic when I found out; but I was also a little worried.”

“You do realize what this means, right?” Wanda inquires making me narrow my eyes at her.

“What?”

“That means that the mage would have seen our world. There might be something pertaining to mutants or super soldiers.”

“A Witcher is kind of like a mix of the two, just more, I don’t know, magic-y. If the mage is dead, then that means they can’t visit our world anymore, so why worry?” I ask making her look up at Thor for help explaining.

“What if they have some lore on who we are, or more importantly who he is?” She continues pointing to Thor.

“The princes earlier would have said something, or at least have acted scared at the sight of him.” I confirm making her let out a sigh of relief.

“Good point.”

“Calm down Wanda, enjoy yourself, everything will be fine.”

Will Continue - 

[gaarasgoddess]

Welcome to Suna - part 4

Welcome to Suna. Where the lights never die and the fun never stops. Sakura and Ino lie to their parents to spend a wild weekend in a forbidden city. Will they regret it? Or will they both find something worth coming for?Main pairing is GaaraxSakura and side InoxKankuro.[Listening to 1989 album by Taylor Swift.]

Chapter summary: Gaara is attentive during Sakura’s first ever hangover. Fluffy.

[Please read previous parts first. part 1 and part 2 and part 3.]

.x.

.

Sakura woke with her face pressed into her pillow, her hair unkempt and a warm arm casually stretched out over her back. She did not realise immediately that she was flat on her stomach as the pain in her head hit her first. It was a reminder of what she’d done the night before and how it was her first time drinking excessively. But the reminder was slow coming as she was still half asleep.

Sakura didn’t or couldn’t open her eyes - she didn’t even try but knew she would fail. Her eyelids were heavy and her body was exhausted. She felt like she’d run a marathon.

Did everyone feel like this after over indulging?

She remembered the drinks and the fingers inside her; the kisses and orgasms. But the face of her first time lover was hazy, along with the details of how far they’d gone. She focused on the pain in her body, moving her hips slightly to make sure the soreness was not coming from between her legs.

Thank-fully, it didn’t feel like she’d gone too far in her drunken state. But the feeling was still of having been touched and despite the pain, Sakura silently reveled the memories that were slowly coming back to her. She was still left with the residual feeling of his fingers inside her. Every inch of her body that he’d touched was humming in the aftermath, even hours later.

As she managed to move her head slightly, the body next to her shifted, the warm arm disappearing from her for a few seconds before fingers began trailing down her back gently. A warm kiss to her arm, up her shoulder, and finally on her neck. She moaned softly in both contentment and confusion.

He was next to her, Gaara.

Sakura remembered his face now. Beautiful and well-shaven; his attractiveness wasn’t like those boys she’d fawned over in magazines and on the internet. But he was alluring and handsome, despite this.

Gaara.

Sakura moaned again, pushing herself to roll away from Gaara’s ministrations but internally complaining when he removed his hand. His fingers had been warm and comforting. But she needed to see if he was still the same person she fell asleep next to. In his bed, it seemed.

Amused, light green eyes met hers as she blinked at him, trying to bring his face into focus.

“Morning, sleepy head.” Gaara leant forward and kissed her forehead gently.

“Hm.”

Gaara smirked and she realised his face was only inches from hers. But she didn’t panic and quite liked the way he was looking at her.

“I’d kiss you but morning breath is really bad. Don’t want to turn you off kissing me later,” he said when she frowned, and lifted a hand to brush at her hair. “You look beautiful in the morning. I kind of don’t care that you haven’t brushed your teeth..”

Sakura shook her head reflexively then regretted it when her vision swam. She groaned. It felt like everything she’d eaten and drunk in the last twenty-four hours was trying to come back up.

Gaara’s hand fell to her shoulder and he steadied her as she swayed, even laying down.

“If you need to throw up, I have an en suite.”

“Can’t move,” she muttered. If she did move, the world would spin.

Gaara kissed her forehead again. “Come on.” He climbed out of the bed and walked around it to her side before gently rolling her toward him and helping her to sit up.

Sakura closed her eyes out of necessity and let him help her. She wondered deliriously if he was going to hold her hair for her as she threw up - and why he didn’t seem to be hung over. But Gaara merely helped her to the bathroom and left with the promise of bringing back breakfast.

Alone and crouching next to the pristine, porcelain toilet, Sakura finally looked around the room. This bathroom was the size of her bedroom back home! There was room for a shower, bath/jacuzzi, a huge built in cupboard, vanity, second closet, above average toilet, second sink, and ample floor space for multiple people.

Where the hell am I?

Her memories from last night were still fuzzy but she remembered coming into Gaara’s house through a side entrance and a carpeted staircase and... maybe a portrait the size of a door...?

Ugh. She’d conveniently forgotten how rich it seemed Gaara’s parents were. She didn’t want to think about that - or them. Hopefully she was right with her assumption that he had an entire wing to himself and she would never have to meet the mother and father of the boy she wanted to lose her virginity to.

Sakura felt herself blush and sway at those thoughts. While she was glad he hadn’t taken advantage of her the night before, she still wanted to play this little adventure out. Never mind that Ino would want to know she’d been ‘broken in’ and that. She wanted something to brag about. And Gaara was a gorgeous, sweet and helpful way to making that happen.

She sighed. Her stomach was settling and Sakura didn’t feel like throwing up anymore. Was it usual to not throw up when you drunk this much? She didn’t know. She groaned and tried to stand up but didn’t get far before resigning herself to waiting a little more. Maybe Gaara wouldn’t be too long and would help her again.

When her vision was better, Sakura tried again and found herself slowly walking back into the bedroom. Still alone, she decided to investigate Gaara’s room. If the bathroom was the size of her bedroom, then this room was the size of five of her bedrooms. Or maybe six, she didn’t care.

The four poster bed she’d jumped into the night before was large enough for an orgy... she shook her head of that image and tried to force down her blush. She was going to leave Suna as a deviant for sure. Back in Konoha, she’d never have had that thought.

She admired Gaara’s walk-in-wardrobe, the armoire styled furniture, desk, and other embellishments. She had been in Naruto’s bedroom, back home, and his walls had been covered in ninja and anime posters; his ceiling lit up with glow in the dark stickers with the light out.

But Gaara’s room was immaculate, except for a crumpled shirt and her own hand bag. It was probably his parents doing, or a maid, but she felt uncomfortable now - Gaara was from a world she could never be good enough for. What was she doing with him? And what did he see in her? Surely it wasn’t just to get laid? The daughter of a rich man would satisfy just as much, right?

Feeling sorry for herself, Sakura threw herself back onto the bed but this time stared up at the canopy.

What am I doing here?

Morose thoughts continue until Gaara opened the door and Sakura turned her head to watch him walk in, closing the door. He hadn’t changed clothes or anything but he did look more put together than he was fifteen minutes ago.

He gave a questioning look at the sour expression on her face but said nothing.

“Hot, fried food. Bacon, egss, tomato, onion if you like it. Up you get,” he said, placing the tray of food next to the bed and tugged on her gently. “It’s the hangover cure.”

Smiling, Sakura sat up, reaching out for Gaara as she swayed again. He held her hand as she scooted over to the edge of the bed.

“Thanks,” she mumbled shyly and he grinned.

“You’re welcome, beautiful.”

She flushed and surveyed the food before digging in. It was delicious. She thought for a moment how it tasted fried by a chef but stopped herself from saying it out loud. Gaara picked at some of the food, but kept glancing at her from time to time as they ate in silence. She felt really uncomfortable about that.

The food was good enough to keep going and Sakura finished it off in no time.

She wiped at her mouth with a serviette and washed the food down with a glass of juice, feeling like she was living an opulent lifestyle. It was so strange. Everything was so delicious.

Sakura glanced at Gaara, wanting to break the silence. “It’s ..a nice house.”

“And it’s only the east wing,” he said. “You haven’t seen all of the estate, yet.”

Yet?

“Done?”

Sakura nodded and he stood - he’d sat down next to her - before pulling her up.

“Let’s get our mouths washed so I can continue kissing you again.”

She blushed and reflexively swatted his arm which only made him smirk wider.

When the tooth brush finally left her mouth, and the mouth wash was down the sink, and Sakura had cleaned up her face, and Gaara was also done, he growled.

“Finally.” He cupped the back of her head with his hand and pulled her to him.

The kiss started off soft but intensified when he started suckling and licking, his mouth slanted over hers, his head bobbing in time with his enthusiasm. Sakura gave back just as hard, encircling his head with her arms and tugging on his hair.

Gaara groaned into her mouth, pressing his hips into hers and backing her against the bathroom sink for support. She felt him harden in his pants as he started brushing his hands down her sides and along the underside of her breasts. It was coming to life so fast she was embarrassed!

He was excited and she felt light and happy at the feel of his body pressed against her even as their mouths attacked each other. She loved his kisses - the perfect balance between wet and dry. She loved his hands - so warm and sensual and still large and so masculine as they explored her body.

When he admitted defeat and finally pulled away, Gaara’s right hand started stroking her hair and his left flicked her nipple, eliciting a groan from her.

Gaara kissed her lips chastely even as he smirked into her mouth and his left hand began to arouse her breast. “So, what shall we do with ourselves now?”

.

[fayefairaway]

❛THE BIG CIRCUS ❜

— MARCH ‘59

True to his word, Gene had made good on promising to get Faye a good spot on a prime-time TV spot to help promote herself for the upcoming Oscars. With the ceremony just about one month out she’d landed a coveted spot on The Billy Martin Show, and would be featured as a main guest rather than as a bit appearance. For Faye, the transition from working in movies — where multiple takes were expected, and she was only repeating lines someone else had written — to being on camera (unscripted and with an audience) had always made her nervous. She did her best to mask that nervousness amongst those who occupied the dressing room she sat in — currently comprised of Errol, Nick, and a makeup artist who was finishing with her face — but could not quite eliminate the way she fidgeted with anxiety in her seat. 

“Wow —” Shirley remarked by way of introduction, opening up the door and entering the dressing room just as the makeup artist excused themselves, the smile on her face encouraging as she complimented: “that dress fits you like a glove!”

Preoccupied with perfecting the kohl liner on her upper eyelid that the stylist had only just finished, Faye remarked distractedly before taking a long drink from the gin and tonic a PA had brought her: “I lost four pounds.”

“I think you look skinny,” Errol commented from his seat in the corner of the small room, his tone implying that there was an air of dissatisfaction paired with his assessment of her. “And I’d switch to water — there’s an audience out there,” he reminded.

Turning from the mirror, Faye glared at her manager, and hissed: “then why don’t you go and find me some bread, so I can be bloated and sober?” With a dismissive hand waved at him by Faye, the manager opened his lips as if to say something more, but then thought better of it and stood up to walk out of the room. “I’ll be back when we’re ten minutes out,” he commented to Shirley, rather than to Faye. When the door shut behind him, Faye heaved a frustrated sigh and regarded herself critically in the mirror. She hadn’t been purposefully trying to lose weight — it had been an unexpected consequence in a series of unexpected consequences in recent days.

She had gone back to see her OBGYN for a check-in about a week and a half prior, and while there the doctor had inquired about expected things: her stress levels, her work load, her current medications, and more. Looking to soften the reality of her often long workdays, Faye had claimed that her days on set were “ten hours at the most,” and left out any mention of after-shooting obligations, such as other work meetings or photography-related engagements. Despite her white lie, Doctor Keane had nonetheless come down on her with an insistence that her work day be limited to a maximum of eight hours. Though he’d insisted that it was important for her to use the extra time to relax, the thought of making those sorts of arrangements with producers had brought her nothing but stress.

More stressful, though, had been the Doctor’s reaction to her current medication regiment. “The Nembutal and Benzedrine are problematic,” he’d explained, much to Faye’s surprise. “There can be some risk —”

“ — So I’ll stop taking them,” Faye had said, eager to avoid any and all complications to her pregnancy. “That’s no problem.”

“It’s not that simple,” the Doctor had said, dark brows furrowing, “how long have you been taking the medications?” Faye, still not quite grasping any sense of seriousness, was thoughtful for a moment before replying: “about seven years. I was with one doctor at my old studio, and switched to another when I started at the new one. But he prescribed the same amount.”

Though she’d not picked up on every detail given to her by the Doctor after she’d told him as much, she’d nonetheless come away from the appointment with the disturbing knowledge that the medication she’d been taking — or at least the Nembutal — had created a “physical dependence” that would cause problems should she go cold turkey. “I’ve never had a problem,” Faye had said, upset by the news, “...are you saying I’m like some kind of dope-fiend?” 

Despite her doctor’s insistence that she was not, and that the lack of awareness of the medication’s properties was common; she’d left the appointment feeling stupid, embarrassed, and angry. Doctor Keane had also provided her with written instructions to self-taper the Nembutal over the course of one month, while encouraging her to take a few days off of shooting to stop the the Benzedrine immediately. Against his advice and her better judgement, she’d impulsively flushed the contents of both pill bottles down the toilet, and resolved to herself that she’d be fine without it. She wouldn’t be dealing with this bullshit for a month, and especially not with the Oscars right around the corner. 

And she had been fine, for about a day. 

In the five or so days that had followed, she’d run through nearly the full gamut of side effects that she’d been warned of: she slept hardly at all despite feeling constantly exhausted, suffered with aches and cramps that seemed to go down to her bones, and vomited anything she attempted to eat or drink and then some. With the little energy she did have, she’d called the Doctor who had been prescribing her the medication and screamed at him over the phone for what bordered on a half hour, after which she promised to see him fired and hung up. 

But, despite Doctor Keane’s warnings, the drugs were out of her system without any serious side effect, save for the four pounds that Faye now also questioned as a result of Errol’s comment.

“I brought another dress,” Faye said as she scrutinized her appearance, before she looked between Shirley and Nick and asked: “do you think I should change?”  

“I think this is perfect,” Shirley insisted, “never mind what Errol says — he’s no expert on ladies’ appearances.” 

Faye was distracted from Shirley’s response by a knock at the door, the muffled voice of a PA behind it saying “fifteen minutes, Miss Fairaway,” before presumably walking away. 

“Fuck,” Faye exclaimed, reaching for a cigarette as she remarked, “I can’t shake these nerves — I’m going to mess something up.”