#of all my mental illness things this is the WORST one hands down the WORST thing

[inkedbybarnes]

anything

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.

i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷

dividers by @cafekitsune!

reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡

“can you please let me in, baby?"

that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.

“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”

your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.

“just because you're what? sick?”

you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.

“how did you open the door?”

bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”

you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”

“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”

“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”

“like what?"

“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”

you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.

“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”

with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.

“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”

you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.

you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.

“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”

you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.

bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.

“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”

“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”

“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”

this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"

"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."

you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.

“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”

“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.

“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”

“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”

“anything?”

he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."

( a lil bonus < 3 )

“what is that smell?”

sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.

the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.

sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.

“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"

"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."

“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”

their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.

"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."

"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.

bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."

"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"

bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."

clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."

"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"

"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."

"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."

bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #mcu #inkedbybarnes

[samandcolby-ownme]

Summary: anon request - "Hi can u do one like should've stayed home but with Sam please and can u make it so they end up fighting about leaving and not wanting to leave and so the car ride home is silent leaving Colby feeling awkward until they get home then they make up after a little bit more arguing please please pleas thank u."

Warning: This one shot will get dark at parts and contain the reader being targeted by the spirits and some actions include; being touched, pushed, choked, scratched, spoken to, and other things some readers might find a bit creepy. There will also be mentions of murder and such at the place of exploration and other bad things some readers may be triggered by and there will be a short SMUT scene at the end.

I also kinda changed around the ending a little bit, hope you don't mind!

Word count: 8.1K

"What's up guys. It's Sam and Colby."

You stand off to the side, watching as they do their intro, "Today." Sam presses his hands together and leans in, "We are at the Agatha Asylum, or better known as the worst place to be sent if you were already having a bad day."

"It's said that people who had, or thought to have had any kind of mental illness were sent here for-" Colby puts air quotes, "-help.. and they were punished by being chained to walls, stuck in cages, beaten, and most even faced death."

"We are here today to see if we can get some answers as to why the person in charge, John Agatha, would do something like this." Sam glances over at you, "We also have with us a very special guest, y/n."

You walk over, standing in between Sam and Colby and hold your hand up, "I don't know why I'm here. I hate asylums."

"You volunteered to handcuff yourself to the wall, remember?" Colby jokes and looks at you. You raise your eyebrows, "The fuck I did."

"Anyway." Sam tries not to laugh, "We are currently waiting on the owner of this asylum to get here so we can get a tour and get a feel for what we will be dealing with.." Sam looks over at the road, "I think that's them now."

A car pulls up and parks, stepping out is a man and women.

"Are you Mark and Cindy?" Colby asks walking over and the man nods, "Yes, are you Sam and Colby?" Sam holds his hand up, "I'm Sam, this is my girlfriend y/n and that's Colby."

You all say hello and they jump right into it, "So.." Cindy starts out, "This is Agatha Asylum." She motions towards the building behind the fence, "This is to keep anyone out, since we're trying to get it ready to present to the public, we have it blocked off so people don't get in without us knowing. Or we try to at least."

"Have people gotten in?" Colby asks and Mark nod, "Oh yeah. We eventually set up security cameras around the perimeter. The day we noticed a broken window and spray paint lids, actually."

"What kind of things happened here exactly?" Sam asks handing the camera to Colby.

Cindy blows air, "Oh gosh, anything from restraining the patients inhumanly to keeping them locked in cages that were maybe, if they were lucky, a little bigger than themselves."

You raise your eyebrows, "What the hell?"

Mark nods, "most of the women who came in were attacked by the staff if you know what I mean so I'm sure the women are angry. I mean, hell I would be too if I was stuck here."

"Have you guys had any thing happen to you?" Colby asks, "Like personally or maybe to someone you know that has come here."

Mark nods, "Yeah, I've had my tools messed with, moved. Cindy has been pushed down the steps, and one of my guys who are working with me on getting this ready, was pushed from his ladder."

"Pushed off a lad- oh shit." Sam shakes his head, "Is there anything we need to know before going in there? Like maybe who to try and get in contact with or what not to ask?"

"John Agatha. He's the one who ran this place. Many people have tried to contact him but they never got any real answers as to why." Cindy says, "Just make your intentions known, I know some of the spirits in there can get pretty mean, so just keep reminding them that you mean no harm."

"Has anyone stayed a full night here?" You ask and they laugh, "No."

"No?" Colby asks raising his eyebrows, "Looks like we have a challenge on our hands, guys." He looks over at you and Sam and Sam shakes his head, "I'm already shitting my pants, dude."

"You all will by the time it gets dark. It's a pretty active place during the day, don't get me wrong, but not only me, but from other groups that came through as well, said it's gets worse at night." Mark sighs, "So. Who's ready for the tour?"

"You guys have fun, I'm going home." Colby pretends to walk away before turning back around, "No, let's go before I really do change my mind."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"So this hallway leads you to where most of the women were held.." Cindy points to the right and then to the left, "Men were held that way."

"Is there any specific areas as to where the most activity happens?" Sam asks laying his hand on your back as he steps around you, "Where were the cages kept exactly?"

"This whole place, honestly. You're bound to get activity anywhere in here and there were at least two cages per room."

"Per room?" You raise your eyebrows, "How many were kept in a room at one time?"

"Two but some held up to four, depending on many were here and came in and what not." Mark says looking around. He stares down the hallway and Sam turns the camera, "Did you see something?"

"A shadow moved across then end of that hallway there." He points, "No taller than you." He motions to Colby and Colby shrugs, "Sorry. I'm just that fast."

He starts pretending to Sonic run in place. You laugh and shake your head, "You can't be serious at all can you?" He shakes his head, "Not when I'm scared shitless, no."

Mark and Cindy laugh and start walking down the hall way. They explain each room briefly, basically what it was used for until you finally reach an old wooden door that's laying on the floor.

"This is where they kept, what they called, the worst of the worst." Mark lifts the door, revealing a steep staircase, "Watch your step as you come down."

"This is a really odd basement entrance." Sam says handing the camera to Colby, "What the hell."

Mark and Cindy go down first, followed by Sam then you. He helps you down, coaching you through the steps until you reach the bottom.

"What you're not going to help me?" Colby asks looking over his shoulder at Sam. All of you start baby talking to Colby coaching him down the steps and he stands there with his lips pressed together, "Should have never said anything."

Sam takes the camera, making sure Colby is good before turning around, "What is up with freaking jail cells in the basements of these places?"

"Literally." You mumble as you wrap your arms around yourself, "It's so cold down here. Did they have any sort of heat at the time of this place being open?"

Mark shakes his head, "They had a fireplace over there but as you can see it got filled from the outside in so who knows when that happened."

There's a loud thud from upstairs and you jump, "the fuck?"

Colby points, "That sounded like the door lifted up and dropped back down." Sam nods, "Yeah yeah yeah."

"Very well could have been. Doors opening on their own is very common around here." Cindy says, "Especially the third floor, that's where lots of the killings happened."

"Why the third floor?" Colby asks, "Why not down here?"

"The patients ended up dying all over the place, but if they were ordered to be put out by John, they would drag them up the stairs, kill them then dump their bodies out of the back window, into what was said to be a big wagon and then taken about half a mile away and they would just burn them and then just cover the hole with dirt."

"That answers my question about what they do with the bodies." Sam cringes, "I can't even imagine that."

"The hauntings and activity started a year or two after the patients first started to die. So if you can, try to contact.. oh shit. Was was his name?" Cindy looks at Mark and he shakes his head, "Oh, you mean Warren Summers?"

She nods, "Yes! He was reported to be the first to die, they ruled his death an accident but we all know it wasn't."

"Well definitely try to contact him, find out some answers." Colby nods and mark motions, "Alright, I need to get out of here, this spot makes me feel sick."

"Whoa really?" Sam looks at Colby, "Do you feel okay?" Colby nods and Sam looks at you, "Do you feel alright?"

You nod your head, "I mean, I feel like there's pressure on my chest, but it's not like, oh my god I can't breathe, kinda pressure."

"Let's get out of here and we'll just start in the main lobby." Sam says as he walks you over to the stairs. You go up first, followed by Sam and he turns around, "Come on, Colby." His voice is high pitched, "You can do it!"

Colby glares up at him from mid stairs and shakes his head as he laughs, "Thanks buddy. I needed that."

Mark and Cindy make their way up and she points to you, "Are you sure they're the ones not together?"

You sigh and shrug, "Sometimes I feel like I'm in a competition." You laugh and look over at Colby who does the, I'm watching you, motion.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Alright, guys. We have the REM pod here, and we're going to start out easy tonight by starting in the lobby." Sam walks over to the desk, setting the pod down, "It was said that there was a receptionist here who just so happened to be John's wife, Mabel, so she had to known everything you'd think."

"Didn't mark say that she disappeared randomly one day and no one really looked for her?" You ask looking at Sam, and he nods, "Yeah yeah yeah, maybe she didn't know what was going on and when she started to find out he silenced her?"

"John Agatha was a very wealthy man at the time of his death, so it very well could be or he offed her because she knew he had money?" Colby shrugs, "I mean, there's really only one way to find out."

Colby leans forward, switching on the pod and testing it a few times before stepping back, "Ladies first." He smirks towards you and you roll your eyes playfully, "Okay. Hello, my name is y/n. I mean no harm, I'm just here to ask you a few questions if that's okay."

The pod lights up and you straight up slightly, "If it's okay that I ask, can you touch that little light for me again?"

It lights up and you look between Sam and Colby, "Okay." You look back, "Thank you. Am I speaking to the wife of John Agatha? Mabel. If so touch that light for me again."

A few seconds go by before the light goes off, "Thank you, Mabel."

Sam hands the camera to Colby, "Hello, Mabel, I'm Sam. I come with peace and the possibility of finding out what happened here. I'd like to ask you something too if that's okay."

The pod lights up and Sam takes a deep breath, "Did your husband.. end your life?"

Right after the pod lights up, it stops and there's a loud crash from slightly far away.

You all jump, yelling out cuss words. You lean around Sam the look down the hallway, "What the hell was that?"

"It sounded like something big fell, like you know those big metal carts the food trays are served on? It sounded like one of those and everything in it just falling out." Colby moves forward, "Should we go check it out?"

The rem pod lights up three times in a row and you all look back at it before looking at each other.

"My name is Colby, I mean no harm to you or anyone else here. Was that a warning? Should we not go look?" Colby asks and it lights up one time quickly, "Make that go off for me if that was a yes."

Instantly turns on.

"Fuck, okay." Colby turns to Sam, "What do we do?"

Sam shakes his head, "If we're being told not to go there, we shouldn't."

"That hasn't stopped us before." Colby chuckles slightly, "Y/n."

You're zoned out on the dark hallway where the sound came from, you know that Colby has the camera on you, but you can't acknowledge it.

You feel Sam's hand on you, pulling you back as your body is trying to go forward, "Hey, hey. Y/n. Look at me." Sam steps in front of you, breaking your stare and you shake your head slightly.

He looks up at Colby and back to you, "What just happened? Talk to me." Sam lays his hands on your cheeks and keeps your head straight, "Hey."

"I felt something calling me towards where the sound came from." You lay your hand on Sam's bicep, "It was weird."

"What the fuck." Sam whispers as he looks back up at Colby and he shrugs, "Okay, we'll just go to the left wing, give whatever that is, time to do whatever it needs to do."

Sam pulls you with him, as you still felt drawn.

"So something just took over y/n pretty much." Colby explains, "Y/n, what happened?" He points the camera on you and you laugh slightly, "Um, I don't really know.. like you know how when you're so tired you just zone out?"

They nod and you sigh, "It was like that, but I swear there was a figure standing there, watching us and I was just having some sort of stare down with him."

"You started walking towards it, then. Like what happened with that?" Colby follows up, "Like did it say anything?"

You shake your head, "I knew you had the camera on me, and I knew Sam was pulling me back, but no. Nothing was said, it just stood there watching us and I just felt like I needed to go there."

"John Agatha?" Sam whispers, "Could it- do you think it was him?" You shrug, "Maybe? I don't know, it was the same figure Mark saw I think.. he was really no taller than Colby."

"It had to be, maybe he's trying to tell us to get out or maybe.. with a sliver of luck, he wants to explain himself." Colby shakes his head, "I don't know, let's just avoid that area until we cover this side."

Colby grabs the pod, switching it off as he turns back towards you and Sam, "Are you okay like do you feel alright?"

You nod, even though you feel like you could puke, "Yeah, yeah I'm good."

Sam rubs your arm, "You sure?"

You nod again, "Yes, Sam. I'm sure."

He could tell something was off, but he trusted you. He knew you'd stop if you really couldn't handle it.

"Where to next?" You ask as you take his hand into yours. Sam squeezes your hand and points, "I figured we could go into the day room, that's where Paul Yellow allegedly killed his roommate."

"These two men specifically had beef with each other.." Colby starts out as he hands the camera to Sam who lets go of your hand to take it, "..it was said that they would always be stealing from each other and would always be trying to get one another in trouble, but no one would admit to it, so the staff basically let them handle it themselves and that's when Paul came into the day room with a hammer that he somehow found, and bludgeoned Frank to death."

"Yeah in front of everyone but the staff were basically the only, " sam turns the camera around to him, putting at quotes, "Sane ones here, so they covered it up basically by saying that Frank fell and that was that."

"Wasn't Paul taken by the staff and tortured?" You ask as you look over at Sam. He nods, "Pretty much, yes."

As Sam and Colby explain what you guys were going to do next, you walked over to the window, looking out into the old courtyard.

"Come over here."

You turn around, walking over to Sam, "What?" He looks at you confused, "What?" You look between him and Colby, "Didn't you just tell me to come over here?"

Sam looks up at Colby and back down to you, "No I was getting the EMF ready."

You motion towards the window, "I swear to god, you said, come over here, when I was standing at the window."

Colby's eyes go wide, "He didn't say that." He shakes his head, "Oh fuck."

"So if you didn't sa-"

The sound of, what you think, is a metal trash can sliding across the floor makes you stop talking. It's quick, but you all hear it.

"Something just got drug or pushed across the floor." Sam whispers, "Fuck, fuck, okay. Let's get this thing going.." he turns on the EMF and you all step back.

"I'm y/n. I come in peace, I just want to ask a few questions. Paul Yellow, did you tell me to come over here?" You bite down on your cheek, waiting for the device to give you an answer.

"Were you over by the window with me?" You ask and it lights up green, "was it Paul?"

It lights up red.

"Are we talking to Frank?" Colby asks and it lights up green, "Did Paul kill you?"

Lights up red.

"Was it someone else?" Sam asks trying to keep the camera still and he looks over at you when it lights up green.

"Who else co-" you stop, "Was it one of the staff, Frank?"

Instant green.

"One of the staff did it then blamed Paul?" Colby looks shocked and he jumps slightly as it lights up green, "Holy shit, dude."

"I wonder if they've had anyone figure this out." Sam asks and he turns around, "Did you hear that?" You lean around to look, listening for the sound. Sam looks back, "It sounded like someone was walking and dragging their hand along the wall."

The sound Sam explained happened again and you look up at him, "That?" Sam nods, "Exactly that."

"Something is following us." Colby says quietly, "It has to be."

The EMF lights up green and you all look at each other, "Is it John Agatha?" You glance back at the EMF, "All you need to do is-"

It lights up green and you sigh, "Thank you." A thump against the wall makes you jump, "I don't think he likes being told what to do." You joke which makes Colby laugh, Sam just shakes his head.

"You good, bro?" Colby pushes his arm and looks at him. Sam smiles slightly, "Yeah, no I'm good."

You find yourself being pulled into that stare again, this time it's in the corner of the day room, but nothing is there.

"Colby. Colby." Sam says as he grabs you by the waist. You try to pull away from him, but he wraps his arm around you, "Y/n. Snap out of it, come on."

You lean back into him, "There's something over there."

"You aren't going over there alone." He fights back as he switches his flash light on, revealing just the ripped wallpaper, "See. Nothing."

"There was." You turn around, "he was watching us."

"Who? John?" Colby asks and the EMF lights up green, "Maybe we should try the-" the loud crashing sound makes him stop talking instantly.

"You don't think people got in here do you?" Sam tightens his grip on your waist, "We tweeted about coming here.. so like.."

"They have cameras all around the perimeter they said, and I'm sure they would have told us if they saw something." Sam says as he pulls his phone out, "Let me call Mark, see if he can tell me if there was anything outside."

As Sam calls mark, you close your eyes, resting your head back on his shoulder. Colby walks up, squeezing your arm, "You still with us?"

You open your eyes, nodding, "Yeah I just got really dizzy."

Sam looks down at you and puts the phone on speaker, "There was nothing outside?"

"Not since you went back inside." Mark says on the other end of the phone, "If you do decide to leave just make sure you lock the gate and we can get the key tomorrow."

"Alright, yeah. We'll let you know." Sam says and they end the call, "So it's just us in here." He looks down at you, "Are you okay?"

You nod and stand up, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You're not dizzy anymore?" He brushes hair from your face and you shake your head, "No I'm good."

"I'm thinking we move from here and we go to the third floor." Colby walks over and Sam stops you from following him, "We can leave if this is too much."

"Sam. I'm fine. I promise."

"I don't like the way you just zone out and try to walk away. That's not like you, that isn't you." His eyes scan over your face and you weren't sure if it was the place effecting you, but you just wanted to keep going, "Something is drawing us to that hallway."

"What do you mean?" Sam shakes his head, "Y/n, I don't want you out of my sight, this place is too big and too dark for you to just go off away from us."

"Then put me on a leash or something, because I'm not done here."

You've never spoken to Sam like that. Ever. So when you said it, you were both surprised, "I'm.. sorry, I don't know where that came from."

"My point exactly." Sam chews on his lip, trying to tell himself over and over again that this place is a lot more powerful than they thought.

"What's going on? You guys okay?"

"Yes." You say the same time Sam says, "No."

Colby looks between the two of you then back to Sam. Sam sighs, "This place obviously has a hold over you, y/n. So everything is not okay."

"What-" Colby starts but you cut him off, looking directly at Sam, "Sam. This is what we do. you can't expect me to just back out every time something hap-"

Sam cuts you off, "Yours being pulled by what we can only assume is a dark entity. How do you expect me to act? Just let you walk off into the sunset with it? No. No thanks."

"Guys, come on.. just take a deep breath. There's absolutely no need to argue." Colby tries to settle the situation but it only seemed to fire up the ghosts because it sounds like a table is lifted then dropped back down.

Sam instantly grabs you, pulling you to him, "You're staying close."

You don't put up any more of a fight, knowing that Sam would drag you out himself if he had to, "Fine."

You knew he was right. As soon as you seen the figure in the hallway, something switched and it was like you needed to follow it.

And you didn't know why.

"Why don't we just go there?" Colby says as you guys leave the day room, "Where the sound happened. If it gets bad we can just leave, we always have that option."

You knew Colby wanted to stay, too, but he was also worried about Sam because he was worried about you, "What do you want to do, Sam?"

Sam thinks for a moment before sighing, "If you zone out one more time and try to walk away from us, we're leaving."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

The investigation went on to be better than you guys thought. Nothing happened to you. Nothing happened to them, you thought that maybe your small argument with Sam helped, but you'd soon come to find out that was not true at all.

"So as you guys could see, there hasn't really been much activity going on, probably for the last hour or two." Colby says and motions towards the spirit box, "We brought this to the third floor, hoping to see if we can figure out what exactly happened to some of the patients."

Sam sets the camera down on the one table, angling it towards you guys and the box, "Okay, we'll sit this right here and.." Sam stands up and turns around, "Did you touch me?"

You shake your head, "We've been over here."

"My whole body like shifted and it felt like someone's hand on my side." He lays his hand right where he felt it, "like right here exactly." Colby walks over and Sam demonstrates on him what he felt.

"fucking hell that's creepy." Colby shakes his head, "You know when we were walking up the stairs, it felt like someone else was behind us."

"I thought I heard someone whistle or whisper, I don't know.. it was like a quiet high pitched sound, but I couldn't make out if it was a word or not." You look around, "This floor honestly makes me nervous, and those creepy steps didn't help."

"Those stairs the whole way up I just kept thinking about how people were actually getting dragged up and sown." Sam shakes his head, "let's just.. get this thing going."

Sam was off, and you picked up on it quickly. It was almost like what took over you, took over Sam.

"Sam?" You step towards him, "Sam... Colby.. colby."

He stares at the floor and Colby walks up to him, "Sam, dude. Hey."

You shake him slightly and he looks back up, "Let's get this thing going."

You look at Colby and back to Sam, "You already said that." He looks at you confused, "Huh?" He laughs nervously, "No I didn't."

Colby nods, "You did, man. You zoned out after, looking at the floor."

Sam looks at you, "Did it come after me now?"

You shrug, "I was thinking that, because isn't that what I did?" You look at Colby and he nods, "yes but the only thing is he didn't try to walk off."

Sam switches the box on, "What do you want with us?"

"... I want ... to know.."

"You want to know what?" Colby asks loudly, "did you take over y/n and Sam?"

"... Miss.. it ..."

"You miss what?" You ask, "Do you miss being alive?"

" ... alive ..."

"You are not welcome to touch us. You cannot control us." Sam says, "What do you want us to see?"

"... the... truth .. in here .."

"Were you murdered here?" Colby asks and it sounds like something bouncing down the steps, "Was that you making that noise?"

"... must get ... out..."

"Are you telling us to get out? Or do you want to get out?" Sam presses his fingers to his lips, "Can you tell us who we're talking to?"

"... he's in.. here .."

"Who? Who is in here?" You ask staring at the box, "Can you tell us who is here with us?"

" ... John .. murder .."

"John and murder?" Colby looks at you guys, "Did John murder you? Were you murdered by John Agatha?"

"... liar .. he lies ..."

"Did John lie about your death?" You ask and step closer to Sam, "What did he do to you?"

"... tried to run.."

"Did you try and escape? Did he punish you for that?" Colby asks and jumps next to you when the door to the one room slams shut, "Who is here with us? Reveal your name to us."

"... John .. is mad..."

"Is he mad that we're here trying to find out what he did?" You ask and Sam looks at you, "I think we should stop."

You felt the need to keep going, "Can he come in here with us?"

"Y/n." Colby looks at you then to Sam, jumping as heavy footsteps come down the hallway, "Sam's right." Colby reaches to switch off the spirit box, but you stop him, "Just wait."

Sam nods at him, chewing on his lip as the footsteps start again.

"John Agatha. If you're here, tell us why you killed those people." You glance towards the door, only to snap your head back to the box,

"... they needed to die ..."

"No they didn't. They were sick." You argue and Sam pulls you back, "That's enough." You push away from him, "Sam. We're getting answers."

"No, you're arguing with something that we're unsure of. You don't know the power of this thing. " Sam runs a hand through his hair, "I think we're done. I don't like this-"

"Colby do you want to leave?" You look at Colby and he holds his hands up, "I think I'm with Sam on this one."

You roll your eyes, "Of course you do."

"Y/n. What the hell has gotten into you?" Sam looks at you shocked, "You have never acted this way during one of these and that's why we're done." He grabs your wrist, holding onto you, "We are done here."

"... no .."

Sam shakes his head and turns off the box, "I'm not doing this. We can talk about this at home."

You turn around, finding Colby no where in the room, "Colby?" You call out, "Sam. Colby is gone." Sam's heart starts to race, "Fuck, yo Colby?"

No answer.

"Fuck. Fuck. Come on." He hands you the camera, and turns on his flashlight, yelling for Colby as you make your way to the stairs.

"Careful, careful." Sam makes sure you make it down okay before stopping at the bottom, "You don't think he went to the basement did you?"

"Or where the sound came from? That's where I was feeling drawn to." You look around, sighing, "Fuck. Fuck. Colby?!"

You hear a loud thump come from where the first crash happened, "We have to." You look at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, yeah. I know." He interlocks his fingers with yours and pulls you with him.

You both yell out for Colby, looking for any kind of sign, "Colby? Come on this isn't funny." Your voice kinda breaks as your fear builds up faster and faster.

"Colby. Come on man, we're leaving." Sam yells out and you stop when you see a metal cart laying on its side, old trays spilling out from the door that is open.

"He was right, that's what that sound was earlier when we started." Sam shines the flashlight on it and looks up, "Colby?"

"Wait." You stop Sam, "Isn't John's office over here?"

His eyes go wide, "Fuck, yeah it is." He turns towards the walkway, "Colby!?"

You perk up, "Wait. I think.." you whisper, "Yell out to him again."

"Colby?!"

"This way." You pull Sam down the hall, half preparing yourself for when Colby jumps out and scares you both, or at least you're hoping that's what he's doing.

"Colby? Please." You beg, hoping you can find him.

"If we just left when I said.."

You stop, cutting Sam off, "No. we aren't playing the blame game because right now our friend is lost and we have no idea where he is."

"Where who is?" Colby walks up, and you Sam let out a scream.

"Where the fuck did you go?" Sam yells, "You just up and left us dude. Why?"

"You guys were arguing and I thought I heard someone in the hallway, so I came out to see and then I was halfway down the steps. I thought I saw people, like teenagers run to the left and my first instinct was to just go." Colby explains, "I don't know dude. Really, I was running and then I was like wait, I'll get lost so I turned around and now we're here."

"You could have been hurt, Colby." You push his shoulder and he just shrugs.

"Sorry man." Sam lays a hand on his shoulder, "last I knew you were right behind us."

He nods, "it's fucking crazy. This place is a maze, and I don't mean physically either."

"Let's just.. go get the stuff and head out to the car." Sam sighs, pointing the camera to Colby, "We found him. He says there were people here but we aren't sure about anything, and I mean that about this whole entire place."

"I don't even know how to describe it other than what y/n said. Like that tired feeling and then I wasn't where I remember I was." Colby explains and you nod, "Yeah like you can tell what you're doing but you aren't focused on what you're doing."

"Alright well I think that's it for-" Sam stops talking and looks behind him, "There was just.. three knocks." He whips around looking at you guys when it happens again, "that.. that.."

"What the hell is that?" Colby whispers and you're pushed towards the way the office is, "Do not touch me. Do not touch any of us." You hold your hand up, "Fuck."

"Y/n. We need to go." Colby steps towards you and you shake your head, "we can't leave."

"We aren't arguing again, y/n." Sam walks towards you and when he goes to grab your hand, he's pushed back.

Colby snaps his head towards the hall, "Someone just said don't touch her." He looks at Sam, "I swear to god dude. A clear as day whisper like right behind me."

You feel something grab your hair and lift it off of your shoulder. You jump and brush a hand over, "Something just played with my hair."

"We're leaving."

As you go to collect the equipment, that's when things take a turn for the weird.

"So, maybe Colby was right. We heard things..." Sam says as he tries to control his breathing, "We aren't sure what it was exactly, right now we're just ducked down behind this desk thing."

"That's what I heard earlier, but you'd think if it was actual people they'd make a lot more noise than just footsteps, right?" Colby whispers leaning in towards you and Sam. Sam's grips on your hand tightens as the foot steps grow closer.

They stop abruptly and Colby stands up, "There's no one here." Sam pulls your arm, "Let's just make a run for it."

You guys book into the door, breathing heavy as Colby closes it with a slam. Sam pulls you away from the building, "you okay?"

You nod, "Yeah, yeah are you?" He nods and pulls you into him, hugging you tightly.

"That was fucking crazy." Colby says walking around you guys, "I've never experienced anything like that. Like we were affected in a way we can't really explain in depth."

"This doesn't feel finished, though." You pull away from Sam and he stares at you, "What?"

You look between him and Colby, "Exactly what I said."

And you meant that. You wanted to come back here, get more answers about this asylum. You knew more happened here than what people have said.

"You're going to really stand here, and tell me that you want to go back in there." Sam scoffs, "Even after what you had happen? What I had happen? Christ, y/n, Colby went missing for god knows how long."

He puts his hands on his head and spins around slowly, trying to comprehend as to why you'd want to.

"Because there's more in there, more stuff that people don't know and I want to be the one to find out exactly what it is." You point to the building and drop your hand, "If you don't want to then I'll come back myself."

"The fuck you will." Sam shakes his head, "Y/n. You could have been the one lost. You could have been the one lost in there, alone.. and I don't-" his voice cracks and he clears his throat, "You're not coming back here and I mean that."

"Why don't we -"

"Stay out of this, Colby." You and Sam say looking over at him.

He holds his hands up and walks over to the car while you and Sam still argue.

"You didn't know what you were doing, y/n. Okay? You could have easily got lost." Sam looks at you and you shrug, "But I didn't."

He stares at you a few moments before shaking his head, "The only reason you want to come back here is because whatever is on the other side of that door is making you want to come back."

You clench your jaw, knowing that he's right but since you're fighting, you don't want to let him win easy.

"That place changed you." Sam says lowly, "We have never, ever fought like this, we've never fought at all. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Never said it didn't, Sam." You mumble as you walk towards the car, getting into the back. You glance over, seeing Sam bend down slightly before kicking the rocks on the ground and walking over to get in the passenger seat of the car.

"Home?" Colby asks starting the car.

You and Sam both mumble a low, "Mhm." Colby takes a deep breath and starts to drive out of the gate, "I have to lock up. Don't kill each other." He gets out, jogging up to shut the gate.

Sam glances back at you and you look at him. He sighs, "I'm still mad, but I love you."

You try not to smile, "I love you."

Colby gets back into the car, "Did you guys makeup yet?" You both refuse to answer and he laughs sarcastically to himself, "Oh this is going to be such a wonderful quiet ride home."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"We have like half an hour left, do you want to stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Colby looks at Sam and he nods, "Yeah, that works." He looks back at you, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah." You say lowly with a slight nod.

"Are we finally speaking to each other?" Colby acts surprised, "Wow. It's about time."

You roll your eyes and Sam scoffs, "I'm mad, that doesn't mean I don't care about her still."

You smile slightly, looking away from him so he doesn't see it. You get out of the car and go to walk in but Colby stops you, "We weren't us back there. Don't hold it over his head."

"Tell that to him." You mumble and he nods, "I plan to, trust me. I just got to you first." You laugh as you walk in to the store and Colby walks up to Sam, telling him the same thing he told you.

As you're standing there, looking at the snacks, you feel hands slides around your waist and pull you back, "You know.."

"What do I know?" You ask as your nails gently graze over his hands, "Even though you pissed me off.." his voice goes quiet, "The way you argued with the ghost was such a turn on."

You smirk and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Is that your way of saying you're sorry?" He bites his bottom lip as he looks at you, "I'll say it when we get home."

He winks at you and leans in to kiss you. You slide your fingers in his hair, humming against his lips slightly.

Colby walks up, "Now that's what I like to see."

You and Sam pull away and look at him. He has a big cheesy smirk on his face and you can't help but laugh, "What would we do without him?"

Colby buts in, "Oh i don't know, probably give each other the silent treatment until days from now."

Sam chuckles and sighs, "That wasn't any of us back there." You look up at him, "Yeah.. that was bad."

Colby nods, "I've never seen you act the way you did, y/n. Honestly it was kinda badass. Arguing with a potential demon."

Sam nods, looking down at you. You look up at him, "I learned from the best."

You grab your snacks and head out to the car, getting into the back as they get up front, "So now that this is no longer a quiet ride home, and I am no longer feeling awkward, can we please talk about what happened?"

"Mhm. Yeah sure." Sam mumbles as he stares down at his phone. Colby looks over at him before he starts driving, "What are you doing?"

You phone vibrates and you see a message from Sam, "Colby don't look at his phone. I beg you."

"Why can be so-" he reads over the message that was sent from Sam's phone, you've had me low key turned on this entire night, when we get home I'm going to show you just how sorry I am.

"Well, okay." Colby sits forward, "That awkward part is back."

You laugh, replying to Sam, just how are you going to do that?

Colby clears his throat, "Can we.." he laughs, "Can you stop sexting each other for one second so we can do the outro please?"

You sigh, resting your phone down on the seat next to you, "anything for princess Colby." He lays his hand under his chin, "As it should be."

You and Sam both laugh and he gets the camera rolling, "We are currently on our way home. Tonight was.." Sam sighs and looks at Colby, "I don't even know how to explain it."

"A big mess." You laugh and Colby sighs, "It was definitely something like that. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were .. taken over basically."

"Yeah, yeah no. That part was absolutely fucked up. I luckily didn't have it happen like y/n or Colby did, but it was still a surreal feeling to have people telling you that you zoned out with absolutely no recollection of it at all." Sam points his thumb back to you, "And then you got Mrs I like to argue with ghosts back here, but that's a story we'll post on our other channel, maybe, who knows, but we are done for tonight, like I said, it was a whirlwind of events and we are so excited for you guys to see what we experienced tonight at the Agatha Asylum."

"Drop a like if Mrs I like to argue with ghosts should be made into a sweatshirt." Colby gives a thumbs up and Sam yells, "Ayyyy yes. Y/n." He points the camera to you, "How would you like to have your own collection."

"That would be pretty sick." You smile and nod, "I actually like that a lot."

Sam points the camera to himself, "Well have to work on it. See you guys in the next one."

Sam cuts the camera off, "Mrs I like to argue with ghosts." He laughs and looks back at you, "I'm getting you a hoodie that says that."

You smile and nod, "I'll wear it everyday."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Have fun. I'll be down here editing away from all the noise." Colby says as he grabs his laptop off the counter.

Without any hesitation, Sam grabs your hand and up the stairs you go, laughing with him as you try to keep up.

You run into the room you share, falling on the bed with him on top of you, "You drive me insane, but always in the best way." His lips press to yours as his hand pulls your head close to him.

You drag his sweatshirt up his back, telling him you want it off. He leans up, slipping it off in one perfect motion and you pull him back down to kiss you.

He grinds himself against you, "I'm sorry for yelling at you." You moan slightly, shaking your head, "We weren't us." You cup his face, "This is us."

He smiles and kisses you again. You quickly grow into a heated make out, clawing the rest of each other clothes off and slipping under the blankets.

"If I ever yell at you like that again, just sacrifice me to the demons, babe." He chuckles slightly, brushing hair from your face before sliding his hand down to pull you closer.

"I'd be coming with you. We're inseparable." You nudge your nose against his and he nods, "Damn right we are."

He rolls on top of you, rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy, "You were so.." he lets out a low moan as he slips his cock into you, "..fucking hot back there.."

He pushes his hips to meet yours, "You always amaze me."

You run your hand through his hair, biting down on your lip as he starts to thrust, "Fuck.." you whimper and look up at him, "I'd do anything to protect you."

"I'd die for you." He stares at you for a few seconds, still thrusting deep and slow, "I mean that wholeheartedly. You mean the most to me and I'd do anything to keep you safe."

You smile and lay a hand on his cheek, "I love you."

He kisses your lips, whispering a low, "I love you."

He leans up a little bit, "Now roll over so I can punish you for yelling at me." He winks and gives you a cocky smirk before pulling out. You smirk as your stomach does an excited flip.

You roll over onto your stomach and Sam's body is immediately on yours, his cock back in to where it was before, "I wanted to shut you up in anyway I could."

You moan as he thrusts slow, "Why didn't you?"

"Would have had to cut a lot of the footage out." Sam says lowly in your ear, "Plus I don't really want Colby seeing how pretty you look while you're gagging on my dick."

Your eyes roll back as he pushes all the way in, "Because you my love, are fucking gorgeous."

You grip the sheets, moaning as his hand slides around to your throat, squeezing as he whispers, "Or how pretty you look while I'm in between those legs.."

"S-Sam." You squeeze his cock with your walls, "Fuck, I-I'm so close."

"Go ahead, baby." Sam groans lowly, "Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer either." He hooks his thumb over your bottom jaw and you immediately suck.

He moans lowly, pounding into you, "That's my girl."

You moan around his thumb, trying to move your hips but you can't go anywhere. Your moans are growing louder as you reach your point, squeezing him as you claw at the sheets.

"Come on, baby." He pleads, "Cum for me."

You whimper and moan his name over and over again, letting your head fall back as you cum, "Fuck fuck fuck."

Sam suddenly pulls out, his cum spilling on your back, "Fuck, babe." you let your head fall forward, resting on the bed as your breathing is heavy.

"You okay?" Sam asks getting up to get you a towel. You look back at him, "Oh yeah. I'm so much better."

He smiles and shakes his head, "You know, I wonder how much of us arguing was actually caught on camera."

"Probably all of it, Sam. And if I'm being honest, it'll probably turn me on again." You roll over once he wipes you off and smirk up at him.

"You too, huh?" He smiles as he bites his bottom lip as you nod, "Uh huh. Very much." He pulls you up so you're standing in front of him, "I really don't want to yell at you again, but if it's something that'll get you going then.." he leans in, kissing you, "then we might just have to work something out."

You suddenly hear Colby yelling, "Oh shit. No fucking way!"

You quickly throw on clothes and run down, "What? What? What!?" Sam asks going over, you hand still in his, "Bro what the fuck is that?"

"That my friend is what was controlling us tonight." Colby turns the laptop towards you and Sam and you gasp, "That's exactly what I saw."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#sam Golbach #sam golbach x you #sam golbach dirty one shots #sam and colby #sam and colby smut #colby brock #sam and colby one shots #dirty one shot #one shot smut #smut #sam Golbach x reader #adventures with sam and colby #anon request #sam golbach one shots #sam golbach and colby brock #sam Golbach smut #sam and colby smut one shots #smut one shots #smut writer #xplr #xplr sam golbach #xplr club

[miasmaghoul]

Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether/dew #aether x dew #aethdew #dewther #hurt/comfort #dont mind me self soothing via ghouls lmao lmao #not rereading before i post so if you see mistakes #no you dont

[mysillytdsideblog]

My headcanons for mike & co

Vito

Co-host w/ Mike from ages 14-16

Mentally 18-19 ish

System big brother

Handles a lot of the family issues

The one who steps up fr

Sexual Protector Alter

Trauma Holder, but doesnt have a full picture of their trauma

Sexualizes self for attention

Just a cool guy if u get to know him

Wishes he was more built irl lol

He was the one dating their first girlfriend

She didnt know about their DID, both Mike and Vito would rather keep that private

Wants a normal life

Also held down their first job (semi-canon)

He gives a shit but can be emotionally reserved

He doesn’t hate Mal, he just finds him frustrating

A bit of a troublemaker but not out of wanting bad for the system, it’s just the way he is

Creeped out by Mal, thats why he doesn’t like him

Secretly holds grudges but doesn’t tell them unless he’s picking a fight

Kinda a pothead

Chester

Mentally 60s-70s

No specific trauma memories, but he was split from trauma

Has never been the host but he switches in quite often

One of the first alters to have been discovered by their psych

At first the psych thought they were faking just cause of how theatrical Chester was, and how much it annoyed Mal

The psych thought they were faking to get out of juvie

Not to help, Mal said it was a “voice in his head” and would talk to him out loud, not caring who heard

He’s not an introject, but they don’t know why he’s old

He just is who he is

They don’t know why he has a scar over his eye, they presume there’s a trauma reason for it but nobody has any memory of something bad happening to their eye

He feels like he’s a grandfather to Mike, but the feeling’s not reciprocated

Not yet at least

Mike learns to love him

He gets annoyed by Chester still but he finds him more endearing

He likes his hot beverages and pastries

And yelling at the tv

He finds commenting on everything so entertaining

He’s co-con 80% of the time

He finds fronting to be physically exhausting, like it makes him physically feel his age

Has chronic pain in his hips and joints, his psych says it’s phantom pain

He loves his psych, he could go on for hours

He loves little kitty cats! There has never been a cat he couldn’t pet

He wishes he was more welcome when visiting nursing homes, he feels lonely but they don’t like his “portrayal” of an old man

He had gotten kicked out before

Actually, he gets kicked out of places quite often

He has health anxiety and constantly thinks he’s going to fall ill and die

His doctor is so fed up

He believes so many wives tales and basically you can tell him anything and he will believe you (unless he’s in a mood, then he’s just going to shout at you)

Mal

Ambigious early childhood to age 13 host

Mentally shifts between 13 to 17

Persecutor/Protector

Mainly a physical protector, kind of the mind’s back up plan for when things get rough and he needs to protect himself or take action

Holds most of the memory of the physical abuse

Split directly for that reason

He was one of the first

Hates his parents and tries to cause problems as a revenge for all the abuse he endured

Sadistic for this reason

He knew from a very young age that nobody was coming to save him, and they never did

Telling all the trauma he knew about in a court ordered psychiatric evaluation was the main reason he got diagnosed, but he was hoping it was going to put his parents in prison

It didnt

He was originally going to be diagnosed with ASPD before they scrapped that for just a DID diagnosis, mainly because his symptoms were too mixed and inconsistent due to the other alters existing

He still agrees ASPD fits him though and after TDAS he does more specific treatments for it in therapy

They do get diagnosed with ODD though

Basically everyone but Svetlana shows symptoms for it

Mal has it the worst because he has so much pent up hatred from everyone who hurt or failed him

And he only gets the bare minimum when he takes it into his own hands, but its better than nothing

Really clashed with Zoey at first but he was the one to make her understand them more, in his own roundabout way

Actually became close friends with Zoey even if they have their conflicts

Mike

Same age as body

Kinda bigender tbh but he’s not ready for that

Thinks he should be the one to call all the shots because he thinks hes the original

Hes not, there is none

Doesn’t have a lot of childhood memories

Nobody tells him about their trauma

Besides Mal when he’s trying to prove a point

He hates Mal because Mal threatens his sense of control

He overcompensates, being a system scares him so if he’s in charge he will be able to make sure everything’s ok

Just finally coming out of denial, still half in it

He hates being a system

Rude to his alters!!!

After All Stars, he sees his psych again who scolds him

And teaches him to accept his disorder

He does better

He compromises more, he learns that his alters are people too, he adapts to his multiplicity and eventually is the key to achieving functionality between all of them

He struggles to accept Mal, because of his persecutory nature, but he learns why Mal does what he does and with a little work from them both they are able to compromise

Mal has to grow and learn too don’t get me wrong

Svetlana

Same age as body

Transbian

Doesn’t mind being a system tbh

She likes the company

Hosts for short periods but only for upcoming competitions really because its hard for her to pretend to be a singlet

She doesn’t like hiding who she is, she’s way more open about her DID than the others are

She wishes she has more girl friends to talk with but they all know her as mike or mal :(

Total sporty girl she is multi talented in soooo many sports

Gymnastics is her fav obv

Why she has an accent? Who knows? Possibly an introject or maybe shes just like that but as far back as they remember she was there

They are all confused

Has good childhood memories, trauma free

She definitely loved recess and fronted a lot during the school years

Loves making friends, shes very social and kind!!

She’s also the most understanding and gives the best advice

Very emotional and it can be quite theatrical, on par with chester

She’s the one who gets along the most with their parents

Picky eater

She likes to eat clean and hates that the other alters eat meat because she finds it soooo gross

Has her own separate drawer in their dresser for her clothes

Bird lover and has owned pet birds before

Manitoba

Introject, half indiana jones-half steve irwin

Not a fusion he was just made like that

30s-40s

The most recent split

Has a fleshed out part of the interworld including NPCs (like his wife) and spends most of his time there (semi-canon)

He doesn’t prefer to front, he just found total drama fun to compete in

Dreams of traveling the world

Really longs for his innerworld to be real

Tries to keep everyone in line

Wishes they would be less trouble

He doesn’t side with anyone, which makes Mike very angry but he can also see a side to Mal that Mike can’t

He’s the most logical and level headed one

Loves collecting things especially memorabilia from places he’s been

He knows so many animal facts and just general knowledge

It makes Mike feel stupid cause he doesn’t know all that but its in his brain, it confused him how that works still

#total drama #td mal #td mike #td svetlana #total drama island #td manitoba #total drama all stars #total drama mike #total drama revenge of the island #td chester #mikes system hcs #mike system hcs #mike td #mike & co #mike total drama

[blegh-110]

I get the worst cramps, and I think if Y/n got horrible cramps too, Flightless!Tan would be the BEST at taking care of her

not me on my period right now and having cramps as well :((( this will be totally self-indulgent btw

so reader knows when she gonna get her period in a number of ways. one, when she starts breaking out. and she is totally freaking out because she is getting that anxious feeling in her stomach from when her parents would notice this break out and comment on it not very nicely. shes afraid that tangerine will see the red spots and pimples on her face and not think of her as his "pretty girl" anymore :((( and because of this, she starts hiding away from him and trying to stay away from him until it starts to go away. so that means longer showers, sleeping in and staying in bed longer, resisting sitting in his lap and receiving cheek kisses. which does not end up going well because shes soon missing his touch.

second, when her boobs start getting sore and achy :((( she just lounges around the house in pain and all pouty, knowing whats coming in a day or two.

three, when she starts craving a bunch of food and eating whatever. and she always feels like crap after.

at first, tangerine just thinks shes gone a little back into her shell and his simply trying to distance herself because she feels like it. but one morning when he tries getting her out of bed after letting her sleep in for a little too long, he gently tries pulling the blanket of her body but stop when she starts whining and eyes start filling with tears.

"cmon, we dont wanna waste the day again, do we?" tangerine tries pulling at the blanket again but fully stops and drops his hands when she starts crying and tugging at the comforter like its her lifeline. at this, tangerine sits on her bed with a concerned look on his face.

"you have to tell me whats wrong. v' let you sleep in for more than two hours now. are you feeling sick?" tangerine tilts his head to the side to get a better look at her, gently wiping away her tears. he feels relieved when you shake your head.

"then what is it? just tell me and ill do everything i can to fix it."

at his words and calm, low voice. she leans herself into him, hiding her face in his neck to spare her the embarrassment she feels. she closes her eyes when she feels his arms wrap around her, itd been a few days since she felt it.

"got m'period." she whispers so quietly it takes tangerine a second to figure out what she says, it doesn't help that her face is shoved into the crook of his neck.

"well thats okay." he says, but is actually panicking because he hasnt gotten any feminine products for her. he mentally kicks himself for not thinking of this.

"got your sheets all dirty and gross."

"well we do have this thing called a washer and dryer, my love. it kind of cleans what needs to be cleaned," tangerine teases while rubbing comforting circles on her back, "your sheets will be just fine."

after a while, he is finally able to pull you out of bed.

"now, you go do your little morning routine, and im gonna head to the store and get you some stuff, got it?" you nod your head as he walks you to the bathroom, knowing that the first thing you like to do when you get out of bed is brush your teeth.

"okay, now is there a specific brand you prefer?"

you tell him quietly, feeling awkward because you had never had to tell someone this before. but a part of you is relieved that tangerine is not disgusted with you, but instead determined to get through this with you.

"alright, anything else you would like?"

"id like some chocolate, if its okay with you." you stare down at your feet, finding your painted toes very interesting all of a sudden.

"that more than okay with me, what else?"

tangerine writes down all the others stuff you want, and with that, he is out the door and in his car. ready to take away your pain and discomfort.

#tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine imagine #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train imagine #aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #tangerine blurb #flightless bird thoughts<3 #aaron taylor johnson

[emlovslennon]

omgg last night I dreamed about supeeer cute soft dom george being very affectionate and giving making love to reader making her forget all her insecurities whispering in her ear a lot of worship, it's my first request and don't speak English very well but I'm here hehe love ya!

GUYS IM ALIVE HOLY FUCK BALLS !!! Anyway HEHEHHEHE evil laughter back to my mischievousness (mental illness). Also I LOVE YOU TOO

-

Era: 1965 cuz i feel like it

Audible moan.

-

You had been feeling extremely insecure ever since you got back from the opening of the the Beatles new movie, “Help!” You saw how in the newspapers they were saying incredibly cruel things about you, especially about how tight your black dress was when you wore it to the premiere. It was, “Name the Beatles wife with the worst taste?” Or “That dress certainly doesn’t look flattering on her!” Like it was some joke. You felt tears brim your eyes just thinking about it. You’d constantly look in the mirror and pinch at your stomach and thighs, you just couldn’t understand why you couldn’t be as beautiful as Jane or Maureen or Cynthia.

“Love, I’m back! Love? What’s wrong?” George said, he had just gotten back from a meeting about an upcoming album, so he unfortunately couldn’t take you along since it was a private meeting, not a public one. You were laying on your shared bed crying, with a newspaper at your side. The one that completely wrecked your self esteem. George caught on and picked up, in complete anger, he ripped the newspaper up and threw it in the trash.

“Absolute bloody rubbish! I hate those damn newspapers, y/n, come ‘ere love.” He said, quite angry, but gentle once he called your name. He couldn’t believe someone could say that about his wife. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. How could anyone not agree? They must be blind.

“Love, don’t listen to those bloody bastards, you are the most beautiful and lovely woman I ever laid eyes and have ever met. If they don’t believe that, then they must not have eyes.” He whispers in your ear, playing with your hair. Your tears at this point subsided and you looked up at him, he gave you a grin and kissed your forehead. You know this probably wasn’t the best timing, but you just couldn’t resist when he looks at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

“George, could you maybe show me how beautiful I am?” You say quietly, George winks at you in a joking manner and wiggles his eyebrows which make you giggle. George slowly positioned you to get you to lay on your back while he slowly got on top of you.

“I mean it when I say you look stunning in anything.” He whispers, playing with the hem of your black night gown, it was short and only went down to almost the end of your inner thighs. He looked at you for permission and you nodded, as he slowly lifted up your night gown, leaving completely exposed. You usually didn’t bother with under garments when you were going to sleep, you just didn’t feel the need for it.

“You amaze me every time, y’know that?” He praised, as his hands went to your breasts as he pulled you into a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless. George lifted himself up to take off his black long sleeve shirt and the pair of black pants he wore with it, as he went back down to kiss your neck, he hand slowly wandered down to your core, lightly rubbing causing you to whimper. George grinned at the sound, George loved nothing more than when you made noises for him, he doesn’t even really care when it comes to him getting off it’s just as long as you do he’s good.

“Can I?” He asks, his fingers nearing and circling your hole, you nod frantically as he giggles at your reaction, he slowly inserts two fingers into you. You bite your lip and throw your head back into the pillows with the intrusion. But you couldn’t lie, his fingers do wonders. He slowly thrusts them in and out as he watches you whimper and moan, he usually never goes fast unless you tell him to, he’s just never really been that kind of person. Whereas someone like John is the complete opposite.

“F-faster, George!” You moan out, causing George to kiss and suck on your neck harder than he did before as he went faster, your juices starting to seep down to the sheets as the noises coming from your core begin to echo through out the room. You felt the tightness and heat in your belly about to burst and you knew that only meant one thing.

“George-I’m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you felt as if you were sitting stars as your orgasm hit. George never wanted to admit it, but he absolutely adored when you orgasm your a shaking and moaning mess for him, you look absolutely wrecked just from his fingers.

“Are you ready? Do you need a minute?” He asks, one thing to note about George, is that he is huge on consent, he would never, ever, do something that you didn’t like or something that he thought could hurt you. It would break him into a million pieces if that happened.

“Yes, please!” You say shakily, George nods as he kissed your forehead, slowly lining himself up and entering you.

“You’re always so good for me, always. No one could ever compare.” He whispers lovingly, kissing your earlobe as he slowly thrusts in and out of you.

“Your noises are to die for, you are to die for, i can’t get enough of you.” George loved praising you during sex, he always took pride in doing so.

“G-George, please.” You whisper, George looks up at you, with a questioning face.

“Please, faster! Please!” You moaned out, George gave you a smile and kissed your cheek as he went faster, but not too fast, just slightly faster than the pace he was going. You moan out as he brings his fingers down to your clit and rubs circles round it, making your legs shake. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and creeping up on you like it was the grim reaper.

“George! Im gonna cum, please!” You cried out, all the worry, sadness, and insecurities you were experiencing early had completely disappeared. They were nowhere to be found. George always managed to make your worries and fears go away, it’s like he was magic. But to be fair, he pretty much was.

“Aw, come on pretty girl, cum on me, go on.” George groaned, feeling his own orgasm creep up on him, and before you know it, it wasn’t before too long both of you came together. You were shaking and moaning for quite a bit even after he pulled out and kissed your face all over. George laid on his side and brought the covers over both of you.

“Did that make you feel any better?” George asked, his hand holding yours, you look up at him with a smile.

“What was I upset about again?”

-

THIS WAS KINDA CHEESY BUT WOOOOAH I LOVED IT

#classic rock #classic rock imagines #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #the beatles #the beatles x reader #60s #george harrison x reader #george harrison smut

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter II : Prometheus

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Blood and gore; Mentions of drug and alcohol abuse; Description of injury; Angst; Possessive behavior

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 6.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER II : PROMETHEUS

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us?

-Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

As the days turned to weeks turned to months since that moment in the dark with the Mandalorian, there had been a steadily rising thrum of tumultuous, frenzied energy coiling within you. A ball of hissing, ravenous snakes ready to strike at any moment. Desire turned to want turned to a demand that you were ill equipped to deal with – emotionally and mentally.

You’d had many things in your life that you’d wanted but had not been able to have, and yet that did not mean that you’d ever been good at not getting them. Impulse control, a staying hand, were not things the Maker had blessed you with. 

You’d met an old Ugnaught female with a penchant for loving spotchka and Sabacc a little too much. More than she’d ever enjoyed keeping steady work or following the rules or anything else really. You and she had some things in common when it came to that pesky little issue of impulse control. After a brief acquaintanceship, she’d put you on to a group that met sometimes on Nevarro to… support each other… or better yet, to sit around and discuss your issues and vices together in some pseudo imitation of self improvement – the art of staying one’s hand, or whatever you wanted to call it – and if it was not with much success, it was with intention, which you thought was, in the end, just as significant. She said she found the meetings understanding or companionable or something you pretended to tell yourself you didn’t care about. 

And sometimes you went. 

If for nothing else, to feel as if there were at least a few people in the entire galaxy who knew your name, who knew you were alive, who knew you were alone. You sat there amongst the old and weathered humans and the other ragtag team of varying organics and even the occasional droid, and listened to their stories and their losses and their fear during the reign of the Empire – their struggle, their fight, their apathy now, to survive, to stay afloat in the bleak imperial aftermath. 

One such survivor with a nasty love for Spice, needled you the worst. His face was haggard, tired, and there was something so forlorn about him, something that sent a sudden flash of fear through you. Is that what I will be one day? Is that what I already am? I am a person, you think wearily, aren’t I? His voice was tough and ragged, as if he’d gone out into the lava fields and swallowed a chunk of ashen rock to fill his belly, savaging his throat in the process, grating your ears and your nerves.

“Nothing really feels better than when I’m drinking a bottle of spotchka, Spice humming through my veins, watching the sunset. My worries, my fears… they don’t weigh as heavily on my shoulders. And what else is there to do? This is easy. I am good at this. It is a simple thing, even if I must forsake all the rest. And I am tired. I want peace.”

You could understand this. 

What else had there been to do under the subjugation of a darker and more powerful force than you could have ever been? You had been young and alone and terrified. In possession of a power beyond your understanding. You had been enslaved, trapped, abused, and then, for a moment, on a precipice. One which you’d taken a leap off of at the first chance. Now though, you were tired, and you too, wanted peace. Even if you weren’t entirely sure if you still believed in the concept. Once, it had seemed easy to lay down and take it, do as you were told. Until it wasn’t, or… until there had been the opportunity for something different. When the Sith lords were crumbling into obscurity and failure one by one, until only you and your master remained. A singular darkness in the galaxy. A lone chance, a step too far, to run had been all you’d needed. A flash of beskar in your mind – screaming, the snuffing of a silver flame –  you blink the nightmare, memory, away, be honest with yourself, eyes pressed together tightly, spiky lashes crinkling between your lids.

And you, girl? What about you? What do you have to tell?

Me? Nothing. Nothing to tell – nothing you’d not burn me for.

Or the truth: it was discovered that I could wield the Force when I was a young child. I was hunted, my parents were slaughtered, and I was stolen. Turned and enfolded into their cult. I never had a chance. I never had a choice. I am trying to find my choices again. 

The Jedi, the Sith, the Empire, they all fell a long time ago. I need to let the past die, but I will not die with it. So, you do not share that which would get you killed. You could very well be taken for an Imperial remnant and hunted, executed. No matter that you’d been just as powerless, despite everything, just as tortured, just as subjugated as anyone else, in all the ways that really counted. Despite everything – sometimes this great power counted for very little.

They had wanted to make you a God, but a God muzzled, a God restrained. 

God struck, God swept, God nonsensical. 

Your dreams are always strange and violent now – nightmares of a terrible past coalescing with hopes of a better future. How to reconcile that hideous thing you had been once before with the better thing you were trying to be now? Too difficult to conceptualize. No matter how many times you listened to your strange group of fellow survivors and vice-havers – a funny thing for what would they say, do, to you, if they knew that unlike their spotchka or Spice addictions, your predilection was of a darker nature – to kill, to maim, to destroy?

You leave Nevarro for a time, after that realization. That no matter how much you might ingratiate yourself, no matter the connections you may pretend to make, there is still that, there is still the truth of you. 

The second time you meet him, you are where you should not be. 

You’d come to Corellia. Filled with a sick and twisted sort of glee that you could roll around in the worst underbelly of the galaxy and survive, hold your own. It was an exercise in restraint and brawn and arrogance, too, perhaps. The crime syndicates running untethered, spice trade, and the harsh reality of industrial life made for a cesspool of the worst sort of cretins. 

In some ways, it was exciting for you, and you knew you were looking for something. Something to whet your appetite, quench your thirst, fill the void. 

After all, it had been two months, what felt like millenia, since that dark storage alcove where he’d imprinted himself in you. Weeks of having the ghost of him haunt you, the memory of his rough voice whispering phantom-like in your ear, seeing him in your dreams, your nightmares. Desperate interludes in whatever cold and lonely bed you’d claimed for the night, your fingers rubbing frantically at your slippery, swollen clit, trying to chase that feeling he’d pulled out of you and failing. Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mandalorian. And then, one late night, when you’re on the trail of one such lead towards self destruction, masqueraded as a good time, there, around the corner, in the distance – like a wound of beskar looming in the night – it’s your Mandalorian. 

You pause your skulking, stepping back to wrap yourself in the shadows, away from prying eyes. You take him in. Fucking tall and broad, outlined in pale flickering silver. He’s arguing with a young Corellian, sticking his finger in the male's face threateningly, other hand hovering menacingly over his blaster, and you can’t help but snicker. Surly beast, that he is. There is a large part of you that does not want him to see you, who had hoped you’d never again come across him, and then a quieter, but infinitely harder part of you to ignore…

The helmet snaps towards you suddenly, as if sensing your attention, cocks to the side –  very much like some predatory animal casting sights on its next meal – his next bounty. You don’t need further warning, you spin on your heel and start in the opposite direction. Heart knocking on the walls of your chest to be let out, let me out, let me out, I want to go with him, cunt going tight and wet, ridiculous, desperate.

A chant that sings: again, again, again, chase me again. Catch me again. I don't know you, but I missed you anyway. I remember you, and I want you. 

That dark, red thread snaps taut again, humming with the song of your fates. You already know how this is going to end. How you want it to end.

You always know how everything is going to end. 

You pick up your pace, trying to confuse him with your turnarounds, sliding through the alleys and archways and scurrying around corners quickly, and then on one particularly slippery turn, there he is. An impenetrable wall of beskar that you’re slamming into, jarring your brain within your skull, shaking your heart in the cage of your ribs, jostling an impish little giggle out of you. 

A pause to catch your breath, he’d cut around and surprised you somehow, “Mandalorian.”

“Brat.” You laugh, his voice is still the same. The depth of it, not a figment of your imagination. 

“Fancy meeting you here. On holiday?” You croon, dragging a single, provoking finger across his chest plate, stepping closer to him, pressing up on your tiptoes to grin up at him. You listen to his huff of vexation through the modulator. Oh, don’t pretend, shiny. I know you love this too. 

“What are you doing here? Corellia isn’t safe.” Stern, stern tone. If you’d let him huff and puff at you, you’re sure he would. 

You roll your eyes at him, as if anything on this planet could do any real harm to the likes of you. “Oh, don’t I know it. I’ve caused the greatest trouble while I’ve been here. It’s been terrible fun.”

He shakes his head down at you disapprovingly, one hand propped on his hip like he’s gearing up to chastise you, readying that menacing finger to shake at you too. You shimmy up against him some more, pressing your breasts up against his chest plate, and you listen to a whisper soft groan vibrate through that impenetrable mask. Not so impenetrable as to keep you out, though, so it seems. You tuck the tips of both hands into the top edge of his breast plate to pull your own face up towards his, and even then, he still has to crook his neck down to look at you. He doesn’t buckle, not even a little bit, under the weight of you trying to hang off of him. You feel one of his hands come up to cup the sharp edge of your elbow, and even through the thick fabric of your dark tunic and the leather of his gloves, his touch feels like fire, like the Force. Stronger than anything else in the whole universe. For some reason, you can feel that deep well of power within you stir at the sight of him, at his touch, like a swirling pool of magma, waiting to rise up and spill out unencumbered. You feel on edge, stretched thin and held together only by frayed seams. 

“Did you miss me, Mandalorian?” He tugs you slightly further into the shadow of the building’s side looking up and around the two of you for one moment, oh, yes, yes, yes, again, again, making sure your surroundings are clear. 

“You like to be chased,” he says back.

“I like to be caught.” 

“By me.”

“By you.” Truth.

“Only me.” It seems he’s finally learned to flirt.

You step up onto his big boot with the tip of one small foot, really trying to climb him in earnest now, bringing yourself up even closer to him, and he wraps his other hand around your waist beneath your cloak, the tips of his long fingers splayed over the top swell of your ass to press your pelvis into his. You bury your nose into the folds of his cape around his throat, breathing in the warm, masculine scent of him, hooking an arm around the back of his neck. You want to kiss him.

“Last time, you said, maybe next time. Is that now?” You breathe into that dark space beneath his helmet’s edge.

You listen to his soft groan, the two of you pulling each other in even closer, trying to meld yourselves to each other, liquid metal’s mixing, beskar melted and writhing amidst fire and flame, and as you’re about to beg him to find another dark alcove for the two of you, you sense them at the same time that his helmet snaps up and to the side, right as they’re descending upon the shadows where you’re hidden, too late to block their blaster fire as they open upon the two of you without any sort of protection to shield yourselves with. Your reaction time is delayed blocking their attack, distracted by him, by his touch, and too long since you’ve openly and freely wielded your power, and he spins, suddenly, huge frame hunching over your smaller one to protect you from the onslaught, to shield you. You hear the bolts of plasma make contact with the beskar over his back, and then his harsh, pained groan as they meet the unprotected places between the gaps in his armor. You spot the Corellian he was arguing with before, over his shoulder. 

A savage growl rips from his throat as his knees buckle, and you wrap one arm around his strong waist, trying to hold him up as he struggles to remain upright. He’s been hit badly in the side, you feel the hot seep of his blood spill. You raise your other hand over his shoulder then, a furious seeping coil starting to move through your body. 

“You’re hit,” you whisper up at him. One of his hands claws at your shoulder, he’s so heavy, while the other braces against the wall behind you, trying to remain upright. 

“My blaster,” he snarls, “Take my blaster. Run.”

“It’s alright,” you say calmly, even though you feel anything but. You can feel his life force literally seeping out of him, and you’re hit, square in the face, with the realization of how truly strong he is. He is so potent, so alive, that his presence in the Force is almost a physical thing despite his lack of powers. The Force lives through us all, and he is powerful, all in his own right, purely for the vitality of him. 

He is strong and good, and that seeping coil turns into a ravenous howl.

There is a group of five organics of varying species surrounding the two of you, frozen by that lifted hand of yours. It closes into a fist, and three of them fall instantly dead, minds pulverized under the force of your power. The edges of your vision go slightly dark. 

“It’s going to be alright,” you say gently to him again. His hand on your shoulder is twisting painfully into your clothes, your joint straining beneath his strength, and he shakes you sharply, trying to push you away. “Fucking go. Why aren’t you moving?” One of his knees buckles, his voice wavers. He’s bleeding out so fast. You grip him beneath his elbows and start to slowly help him lower to the ground. One of his knees suddenly gives out, cracking harshly against the hard ground beneath. “What are you doing?” There’s a flavor of desperation infusing his tone. As if he’s worried for you. As if he is worried for you. “There are too many of them, and I’m–” His voice cuts off with a choked snarl of agony. He’s hurt, he’s hurt. You need to move quickly, or he’s going to die. 

“It’ll be alright, Mandalorian. Wait here. I’ll be right back for you.” He says something more, something growled that sounds suspiciously like, fucking hate it when you say Mandalorian like that, can’t kriffing do as you’re told, but your attention is no longer on him. You step in front of him, blocking the sight of his fallen form from the two remaining, soon to be dead, males. You cast a wide net of the Force around the four of you. Besides the three dead bodies, there is nothing else awake and lurking in the shadows for about a two kilometer radius. Lovely. 

The Corellian is obviously the leader. You look towards the other first, a big, ugly Trandoshan, and as you set your sights on him, you release him from his paralysis, giving him a moment to get his bearings and reach for his blaster. He scrambles to pull it from its holster and fires directly at you. And at your once again raised hand, the beam of plasma freezes mid air in a thrumming, angry screech of red magma. You listen to the Trandoshan’s horrified gasp, watch his eyes go wide and terrified through your splayed fingers, “You’re–”

“Yes. I am.” You send the blaster beam back in his direction with a slight flick of your wrist, piercing him directly through the throat, and leaving a wide, smoking hole of charred flesh clean through its ugly neck. The body falls to the damp street with a harsh thud.

“And you?” You turn toward the Corellian. “Were you his bounty?” His eyes are frenzied, manic, terrified, “Ah, Sith got your tongue?” The acrid scent of urine permeates the air, and you let out a barking little chirp of a laugh. You can feel the Mandalorian fading behind you, struggling to stay alert. No time to play with your food. There is a part of you, small or large, you can’t tell now, in the haze of the Force overwhelming you after not having used it like this in so long, that is worried that this is a step in the wrong direction. You haven’t killed in a long time – not since that last one. No – don’t think of it. Not now. Not with him here. And perhaps, this is a step in the wrong direction, a step backwards, but there’s really no choice. They’ve hurt him. 

You have no choice other than this. 

You reach for your lightsaber strapped into a holster low on your thigh, an inconspicuous place where you can hide it in the dark folds of your clothes. You’ve not wielded one since your escape, since that last time. Your heart beats painfully in your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s more of a blood hungry sort of excitement or out of fear for him, lying wounded behind you. 

-

“No… I’m just kidding.” A girlish little giggle, “I’m not a Sith anymore. Don’t worry. If I were still that, I’d draw this out. Make you suffer for a very, very long time for hurting him.” You pull something from your person then, and the night is filled with the crackling hissing sound of an igniting lightsaber. He’s never seen one in person before – only heard of them in stories. The dark street illuminated with the bright light of a violet colored plasma cross guard that sputters and wavers furiously, unstable, like the sound of metal being clawed to shreds. Despite the protection of his helmet, Din squeezes his eyes shut for an instant, afraid that the bright light would blind him, sear his retinas from their sockets. 

You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. Din has no power, but if he did, he is certain that he would be able to feel your presence in the Force as surely as he feels the blaster hole in his flank. Even powerless, he’s sure he can feel the humming waves of your strength brushing up against his armor clad form. 

“She’s never been wet before.” Your voice is inexplicably lovely, soft and lilting. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about you, after those hypnotizing eyes that had terrified him for the intensity of feeling they conveyed, the two warring colors, one lighter than the other, one cast in perpetual darkness and the other so vibrantly bright it almost glows. The way they’d enthralled him, forced him to go after you that night on Nevarro, if only so that he could look into them one more time. “You’ll be my first blood with this – I made her just recently…” You say casually, lifting the lightsaber up to appreciate it between the two of them. The Corellian is frozen still, and Din assumes that you’re holding him so. You’d killed all the rest without so much as a blink. You’d stopped the fucking blaster bolt mid air. Din has never witnessed such a thing in his entire life. He thinks, for a brief moment, that perhaps, he should be frightened, or worried. He’s bleeding out, he’s dying, prone on the ground and vulnerable, and this girl is of a capacity he’s never encountered thus far in all his travels through the galaxy. 

But he is not.

For some reason, the Mandalorian is not afraid. 

“Pretty, no?” You croon at the Corellian, and if Din was of a sound mind, and not currently delirious from blood loss, he’s sure he’d not have felt that twinge of ridiculous jealousy twist through his gut at hearing you give that soft voice to another male. You twirl the blade so fast he scarcely catches it, then lets your wrist fall, the angry buzzing tip of plasma touches the ground so it screeches and hisses. You seem to deflate for a second, arms hanging limply at your sides, and shake your head at him. “You hurt him,” you say so softly he has to strain to hear through the haze of blood loss. He’s fading. He does not want to leave you alone. “You shouldn’t have done that.” 

You should not have to face this alone.

Another lightning fast twist of your wrist, the violet beam an arc of pure light through the night’s dark air, and then: “He’s mine.”

You slice the Corellian diagonally from hip to shoulder. Din does not think the creature even has a moment to realize what’s been done to him before the two halves of its body are sliding clean and wet against each other and crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud. 

When you turn back to look down upon him, your eyes are filled with so much fear and hurt and desolation, and Din must close his own eyes to shutter himself away from the terrible sight of your pain. He never wants to see that look in you again. 

You seem to be a complicated amalgamation of a woman. At once strange and mercurial and violent. Wholly unreachable, unknowable. And then at the next moment: frightened, tender, soft. With a vulnerability that brings every protective, fighting instinct out in Din. Everything that makes him a Mandalorian. Everything that he holds so dearly within his Creed, you call to, after only one meeting in the dark. To protect you, to care for you, to venerate you. And the shroud of loneliness, the air of other that surrounds you, as if you’d never known the soft touch of a caring hand, the loving embrace of a mother – calls to the very same things within Din’s own soul. The same things he’d never had but always wanted. They were the same, and yet, so vastly different. Existing on two separate ends of the galaxy's spectrum. Creatures meant to be enemies, perhaps, to kill each other. And yet here he found himself, prostrate and bleeding on the ground as you defended his life. Entirely at you mercy.

And now you’ve saved him.

His eyes flutter shut once again, consciousness winking away. 

-

He’s as heavy as a star blasted bantha, and you feel that your bones will surely crack and crumble to dust beneath the weight of him leaning over your shoulder while you try to get him coherent enough to move his legs and walk. While at the same time, as inconspicuously as possible, trying to use the Force to support him on his other side, a tendril of power applying pressure to the ragged, bleeding hole in his side without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And then, also, of course, with the added strain of tugging the two separate halves of his bounty behind you, wrapped in some discarded tarp you’d found because even bleeding out and two paces away from dropping dead he’d still had the wherewithal for a muttered, don’t leave my bounty. If you roll your eyes at him any harder they’d surely fall right out of your skull. 

You are a small human, and he is a big, big man. Who is currently providing absolutely no help. 

“Kriffing come on, Mandalorian. You’ve got to help me out here. You’re heavier than a fucking rancor covered in all this metal.”

You see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye, trying to stir himself into coherence, “How did you do that?” He slurs.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you whine, drawing out the vowel at the end and ignoring his question. 

You hear a small huff of air pass through the modulator, “You’re just too– too small.” His words are too slow, his voice too weak. You try and propel the two of you forwards faster. 

“Psshh, don’t provoke me, or I’ll drop you.”

“How’d you– you do that? T– Too small…” A pained, savage snarl as he stumbles. You exert more of the Force to prop him up. Fuck it, if someone notices the two of you, you’ll just kill them. What’s one more after you’d just gone and done away with five in one fell swoop after months and months of nothing – of peace?

You’re sure your mind, and that disgustingly soft heart that’s been trying to force its way to life inside of your chest recently, will make you pay for this later. 

“I’m a wizard,” you deadpan. You’re sweating beneath your heavy layers, slightly dizzy from exerting so much power so quickly. You’re beginning to think that going completely cold bantha steak and cutting yourself off from the Force had been a mistake. You feel wrung out and stretched thin and weak. 

“No– not, little one,” he stutters.

“That’s it. I’m dropping you.” But you clutch your arm tighter around his waist, pressing your cheek up against the space between his shoulder pauldron and the edge of his chest plate. You can feel the sweltering heat from his skin steaming through the heavy material of his underweave. 

“Are not.” You can hear the wet gasps of his panting breath under the helmet, and the sleeve of the arm you have wrapped around his waist feels soaked through with his blood. You don’t know how he’s still conscious and making the best attempt he can to walk after all this. 

“Maker, what do you eat, beskar for breakfast also? Just tell me where your damn ship is before more of those mudscuffers find us.”

“Landing bay seven,” And you thread your fingers through the hand of the arm he’s got slung over your shoulders, tightly. You have to move faster. You have to make him be okay. But despite your anxiety and desire to rush, the two of you make your way slowly through the Corellian alleyways. Him, struggling to remain upright, you, trying desperately to not make your invisible strength entirely obvious. 

And you fail to notice the slithery little Twi’lek, watching the two of you from the shadows, completely unaware that she will await your return to Corellia for a long, long time to come. 

-

Dragging his heavy ass in through the open hatch of his, believe it or not,  piece of shit pre Imperial gun ship, with a grumbled, nice hunk of junk, that all he’d been able to counter with was a defensive hiss, as your arms were about to snap off under his weight, feels like a singular sort of victory after what the two of you had just gone through. His feet stumbling over one another, he’s just on this side of consciousness when you finally make it within the safety of his ship. He melts into a crashing heap of beskar on the durasteel floor, and you finally let go of the disgusting weight of the dead Corellian, as you move quickly to shut yourselves inside, engaging the security system and motion sensors, lest someone else decide to catch the two of you unawares. Spinning quickly back towards him to start ripping the beskar plates off his chest to get to his injury. You quickly realize that the armor is held together by complex magnetics hidden beneath each piece and swiftly disengage those over his chest and abdomen. He’s got on a thickly woven underweave beneath the underplates, and you make quick work of unfastening the closures on that, as well, but when you’ve reached the last layer of his clothing, a thin, dark undershirt, you pause. The material is warm and soft and worn, something you’re sure he must don all the time and meticulously maintain and care for, like all the other pieces of the intricate uniform of his Creed. A Creed which you’re not certain you’d be breaking by looking upon the uncovered skin of his chest and abdomen. But he’s dying, you think, and you have to save him, and you can feel the physical and intangible manifestations of that slow crawl towards death in the spill of his hot blood on your hands, slowly drooling onto the metal floor, as well as the slow seep of his life force out into the ether. He’s dying, and you have to save him. 

You push the last layer, keeping him covered from your eyes, up his chest. The blaster wound is a ragged mess of blood and charred flesh, to his right flank. The trajectory positioned high in the upper quadrant of his abdomen so that you’re fairly certain it must have nicked his liver. You probe gently at the wound inside with a tendril of the Force, and your panic ricochets up to a shrill crescendo within you – yes, he’s hit badly, a laceration to the uppermost corner of the organ. You move to stand quickly, sweating and stumbling in your panic towards the compartments along the walls of the hull, ripping open drawers and cabinets until you come across his med kit. There are bacta injections, hard to come by, but of course he’s well supplied – you can only imagine the collection of injuries he must have gathered throughout his travels, and patches inside, and you return to kneel at his side, knees cracking painfully against the cold, hard floor as you fall next to him. Hands shaking, vision slightly blurry, you pop the cap off of the syringe, and try and take deep steadying breaths as you pull down the neck of his shirt to get at the uppermost part of his shoulder. When you press the aggressive looking needle into his skin he jerks, and the sound of the helmet rolling against the floor has your eyes shooting up to his face, “It’s okay,” you try and soothe. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to fix this.” You press down on the plunger slowly, watching the bacta slowly make its way from the glass barrel into his arm. He gives a low groan of pain as the thick substance enters his muscle. Please, please, work. Please, you have to be okay. You pause for a second once the injection is done, watching the shallow, quick hiccups of his breath, the rapid dip of his abdomen, as if he’s struggling to continue the act, in pain. Fuck. You rip open one of the bacta patches and carefully place it over the gaping wound, reaching for two more after that to make sure the entire large circumference of the hole in his side is covered, and then go still. His breathing is still rapid and shallow, almost gasping, and you take in, for the first time, the entire vision of his naked chest and abdomen. Thick, strong waist, tapering down into slim hips, smeared in the dark vermillion of his blood, you watch the shifting of his abdominal muscles beneath his smooth, golden brown skin. You’d pushed his shirt high up on his chest, but you grip the edge to pull it down a little lower, making sure he’s only as uncovered as necessary. You’re not entirely sure how quickly the bacta should work – why isn’t he waking up, why isn’t he saying anything, why isn’t his breathing normalizing?

“Mandalorian,” you whisper, and the helmet shifts the tiniest bit towards the sound of your voice, the fingers of his left hand twitch and curl inwards. You place your other hand low on his belly, the edge of his shirt still gripped in your hand and scoot closer to him, your bent knees pressed into his hip. “Please–” you whisper and you realize your cheeks are wet, tears making a slow stream down your face. Your voice breaks, “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you know that this is your fault. You distracted him, led him on that ridiculous chase. He’d have captured his bounty and been safely on his way if it weren’t for you. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” Not again, please, I can’t have done this again. You let your head hang forward, your torso bending slightly so that your forehead is pressed into his hip as you let your desperate and pathetically terrified tears fall. This is your fault. One more terrible thing come at your hands.

If you could only – don’t even think it, you do not possess the capacity for that sort of goodness – but the hopeless thought worms its way into your mind anyway, if you could only heal him with the Force. But you’d never possessed that sort of ability, only the strongest of Force users could wield their power for healing, and despite the fact that you can still feel the deep well of your power churning in your veins right now, after your brutal display on the streets of Corellia, you know that such a thing is beyond your capability. Such an act only possible to those with great aptitude for light wielding or those dark siders who were willing to pay a great and terrible price, that of stealing vitality from another being to enact such a power.

And you hate yourself more in this moment than all the others. You wish desperately, painfully that you could be a different sort of person, a different sort of monster. That you could be good. That you possessed the ability to do good with this Force that roils through your veins, and that should have helped you, but had only ever truly hurt you. 

What is the point of this great power within you, you think, if you cannot wield it in this most necessary of moments? In this instance when, more than any other, you wish you had the strength of the Force to heal him. With your head still pressed to his hip and your hands still on his chest and belly you open your eyes to watch your tears roll over his tan skin. I’m sorry, you think again, I wish you had never come across me. You watch the slow journey of your tears as they slide across his hip and drip silently down onto the floor of the hull, mixing with the dark crimson of his spilled blood. 

You’ve never been one for much faith in any sort of higher power, too many times in your life when you’d wished for something greater than you to come and save you gone unanswered, but you pray to the Maker in this moment that the Mandalorian survive this, please, please, he is good, please, let him survive this. Your eyes flutter closed, you feel the sweep of your lashes against his warm skin, and you pray to the Force and the Maker and any other entity out there in the vast, unending galaxy that a creature such as this, one who is strong and valiant and good, not be felled by an association with the likes of you. And as you think, please, just this one thing, just this one time, I’ll never ask for anything else ever again if you only save him now, you feel that space deep within you, where the very nectar of the Force lives in your soul, shift and churn, and it is as if one of the very building blocks of the core material that makes you what you are, slides out of that place and slots itself into him. Plugging away at the gaping, life threatening wound and mending his torn flesh and healing that which had been savaged. You feel the very fibers of him stitch themselves back together at that outpouring of yourself into his own body, and he has a piece of you now, even if he is unaware, even if, perhaps, he would not want it, you’ve given yourself to him in a way you’ve not ever done with anyone else before. Slotted yourself within him and plugged his wound away to heal him. 

You feel your body sag into his, all strength suddenly leaving you, but you force your muscles into movement and push yourself up off of him so that you can look up at his helmet covered face. His breathing suddenly stutters, and you freeze, your heart screaming in panic, but then he takes one long, deep breath, the wings of his rib cage flaring wide, and the rhythm returns to a slow, measured cadence. You take in the expanse of his strong abdomen, muscled, but also slightly soft around his belly button, the tantalizing trail of hair that disappears into his trousers. There are old scars and rough patches of poorly mended skin scattered across him, but his skin is also still soft and smooth and warm. His body is a weapon all on its own, battle hardened and made strong and resilient out of a necessity for survival, and beautiful. Above all else, he is beautiful. His long limbs are splayed wide on the durasteel floor. His cape is tangled around his throat and shoulders, and you move to pull the trapped folds from around his neck, giving him more freedom to breathe deeply. You tug the fabric down to spread out at his side so that you can lay on top of it. Your head is spinning now, your heart beating so fast you feel the rebounding rush of your blood in your eardrums. You’ve overexerted yourself, drawn too much power too quickly. Head spinning, vision going slightly dark at the edges, you feel a sharp, piercing pain behind your left eye, and your arms give out as you let yourself curl into a ball at his side, tucked into the crook of his underarm beneath his splayed limb. Right before you lose consciousness, you remember to pull his shirt down the rest of the way. He should be covered when he awakens, you don’t want him to worry that you’d violated him in any way, looked at his face or seen more of him than was absolutely necessary. He should feel reassured. You do not want him to be worried or afraid. 

When consciousness finally winks away, like a singular dying star in the vastness of space, your fingers are still twisted in his shirt over his belly.

Chapter III

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[juliettedunn]

Luz’s Softness in Thanks to Them

We all knew Luz was going to have an angst arc in Thanks to Them. Her angst had been building long before then, and King’s Tide was the final straw.

Angst is popular in characters like Amity and Hunter, who act cold and mean as a result of deep pain on the inside. If they cry, it’s in secret, hidden away from anyone who might see through their confident persona. The “bad but sad boy” / “I act like I don’t care but I secretly do” type, to quote Luz.

That’s not what Luz does. Luz cries multiple times in  front of others in Thanks to Them, and even has an emotional outburst in front of her teacher in classmates.

It’s the classroom scene that has a lot of people saying Luz is being “cringey,” and that they have to cover their eyes from “second-hand embarrassment.” I’ve seen post after post mocking that scene, saying Luz needs to “sit down and shut up” and that she has a “y/n complex.”

Whether a vulnerable person gets sympathy or ridicule from others is based on mysterious standards of what are acceptable and unacceptable ways to act when we are at our worst. And what is acceptable for some isn’t acceptable for others (white favoritism, especially in the fandom’s response to Hunter’s over-the-top emotional displays vs Luz). 

Luz’s outburst in the classroom was highly impulsive and not something many would do, but Luz doesn’t know how to ask for help, not when she feels too guilty to confide in her friends and family.

Luz is at best passively suicidal in TTT. It’s actually one of the first times she DOESN’T see herself as the main character, she sees herself as the selfish villain, the “evil Lucy” rather than the good witch Azura. Her self esteem is at an all time low, to where she doesn’t think she truly deserves love.

It’d be so easy to lock herself away, bottle those feelings inside and turn cold. Many thought this was the direction her character was headed in. And Luz does indeed isolate and keep her inner feelings secret.

But she remains soft and tender-hearted, constantly cheering on her friends and supporting Hunter through his hardships even when she herself is at her worst. She even lets her silliness peek through, calling a possum a “little angel.”

Despite her low self esteem, she very clearly WANTS someone to help her and intervene. She wouldn’t have had the classroom outburst if she didn’t think there was some worth in making her feelings clear, some hope that someone might respond to her and perhaps tell her something different. Which makes it even more heartbreaking when the class gives her a weirded out look and then ignores her.

If someone behaves this way in real life, it should be taken as a serious warning sign, not as a “Oh my god that’s so cringe” moment. 

You can see multiple times in the episode Luz fighting her depression, like when she goes to cuddle with Camila. When she asks Camila to let her stay in her bed, it struck me how amazing she really is for being able to do that.

Luz feels she doesn’t deserve to live, yet she still desperately wants to. She wants to hold on so much that she manages to seek comfort, despite her guilt telling her she shouldn’t be receiving it.

When I was her age and in her mental state, I didn’t have the ability to do something like that. Seeking help when you’re in that kind of state is one of the hardest things to do, and Luz does it multiple times.

For people to call her a cringey embarrassment for having an outburst is in very poor taste, and a bad sign for how we view signs of mental illness in real life.

Not everyone who angsts will be like Hunter and Amity, becoming aggressive and/or cold towards others. Not everyone can hide behind thick skin. Some become softer and more sensitive, cry more easily. The latter is in fact the healthier and often more difficult option. 

Some expected a cold, withdrawn cynic, hiding away her emotions. Instead we got a messy, tender-hearted girl desperately seeking help in impulsive outbursts.

The fandom is finally starting to focus on her angst and trauma, but let’s not forget the strength that lies in her unfaltering softness as well.

Luz is a loving, kind, strong, beautiful disaster, and she deserves better from this fandom.

#luz noceda #the owl house season 3 #toh #thanks to them #the owl house #julietteanalyzes

[littlemisspascal]

2023 & Me

Been thinking a lot these past few days about everything that's happened with me in 2023. Hard to believe it's coming to end--time seriously does fly 😮

There's been some heavy losses this year. Several family members passed away to illnesses and old age, including my grandfather who I had a strained relationship with to say the least. I also had a shocking family drama bomb dropped on me earlier this month that has had a huge ripple effect I'm still navigating, but fingers crossed things will find a way of working out for the best.

I had some severe mental health depression episodes throughout the year, made me reevaluate priorities and also doubt pretty much every choice I've ever made in life, but I do truly believe I'm entering 2024 in a positive mindset so that's something to be happy about :) I'mma try this crazy concept called self-love and not think the worst about me, myself, and I.

My writing took a hit this year. Word count wise, kudos wise, engagement wise--but I also made progress on several wips and even finished a few which is a big accomplishment for a snail writer like me 😊 I want to enter 2024 not feeling guilty for being self-indulgent or trying new kinds of writing styles. I also want to shake off the belief a low note count equals it was a bad fic/waste of time -- I don't believe that for anyone else, yet my brain always uses it as a weapon of insecurity against myself and enough is enough brain 😠 no more I say!

On a more positive note, I was fortunate enough to attend several conventions this year and improve my cosplay skills (2024 Ahsoka is gonna be my best look yet I just know it 😁). I got to meet total sweethearts Jon Bernthal and Charlie Cox, Steve Burns my childhood hero, the dear Jodi Benson, the gorgeous Rosario Dawson and beautiful Ming-Na Wen, and of course I can't ever forget Andrew Garfield 😱💗 And most importantly of all I did each these cons with my sister and made some lifelong memories! (Also bought a heckin lot of stickers. A heckin lot 🥰)

And then of course the crown jewel of 2023 1000% hands down was attending the United States Formula 1 Grand Prix. Good lord y'all it was one of the best weekends of my entire life! If you had asked me a couple years ago if I'd care about a sport--any sport--I'd have laughed in your face but there's just something so addictive and captivating about the world of F1 and its cast of characters. And having the luck of getting Alex Albon and Daniel Ricciardo's autographs on my dumb lil frog bucket hat was just *muffled screaming* I literally was a shaking mess lemme tell ya--just ask @beecastle and @undercoverpena who were there with me on my phone every step of the way 💜 thanks for putting up with my addiction y'all! Much much love to you both!!

AND THE FRIGGIN FACT SOMEONE GOT A PHOTO OF ME AND DANNY TOGETHER 🥺😭😭 NEVER BE OVER IT NOPE

There are so many people on here that made 2023 a bright and kind and fun one for me---@oonajaeadira @something-tofightfor @wheresarizona @trinkets01 @kyberblade @sofasoap @grogusmum @writeforfandoms @psychedelic-ink @kteague @prolix-yuy @wildemaven @the-blind-assassin-12 @practicalghost @gnpwdrnwhiskey @bishtrouille @nothoughtsjustmeds @kirsteng42 @miraclesabound @radiowallet @harriedandharassed @hopeamarsu and dozens dozens dozens more!

Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented on my blog + sent me messages! I appreciate and love you all so much more than words can ever express 💜💗💙🧡

2024---let's bring it on! 🥳

#i have spoken

[geeky-politics-46]

Sacrifices - Part 1

Pairing: Doctor Stephen Strange x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Stephen gave up the time stone to save you & your son, but how can you possibly go on without him?

Warnings: Heavy angst & some smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - language, reference to injuries, death, mental illness, complicated feelings about cheating, general sadness, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

This piece may go through some small edits over time as I work on part 2. Some slight canon divergence. Based on a request from @magnificentfurybluebird. Not necessarily my best work, but I'm happy with it.

GIF by wetiredofthis

When the spacecraft landed at the compound, thanks to Carol, you all scrambled to see who or what it was. You prayed to every God you knew that Stephen was somehow, someway, on board. That he had come back to you. Knowing that Tony and Peter had been with him when that creature, that thing took him.

Your heart shattered even further when you saw Tony near death stumble out. No one else followed except for Nebula. You knew deep down Stephen wouldn't be there. You already knew he was gone. 

Nat and Steve were the ones who stayed outside with you as you sobbed and wailed. One hand on your pregnant belly, the other over your chest clutching at the cassum where your heart had once been. Nat rocking you back and forth, trying to calm you down and slow your breathing. Steve simply trying to keep you upright and holding your hair when your sobbing inevitably turned to dry heaving.

You don't remember how you got back inside. The next thing you remember was Tony having a little breakdown of his own. Understandably. You were swaddled in blankets staring blankly at the table. They had hooked both you and Tony up to IV drips. His anger didn't even phase you. Perhaps because it felt like an outlet for your own. 

You vaguely remember Tony saying that Stephen gave up the time stone when Thanos threatened your life and the life of your unborn child. Stephen's son. You had only found out you were having a little boy a few days before Bruce crashed through the Sanctum's ceiling. It went from being the best week of your life to being the worst week of your life.

He said that Thanos threatened to find and torture you in front of him if Stephen didn't surrender the stone. That for the first time during the fight, he saw fear on Stephen's face. He knew Thanos would keep his word. So he did what he had to to save you and your son. Not knowing or not caring that Thanos' snap may as well have blipped you, too. Tony said that the last words Stephen said were, "There was no other way."

You were sure part of your soul turned to ash at the same time Stephen did. Even though you were safely ensconced in the Wakandan palace, you still felt it as if you had seen it with your own eyes. It was like someone had reached into your chest and pulled out your heart. You had stayed near catatonic on the trip back to regroup at the compound with all of the heroes who remained. 

Since then, Nat had not let you out of her sight. Bruce and Steve were never far behind. Rhodey constantly brought you food and water, even though you refused to touch most of it. Pepper did what she could, but since Tony was in such bad shape, you couldn't blame her for focusing on him. Even Nebula and Rocket took turns sitting with you in those first few weeks.

You felt like a mental patient under constant observation for fear you would hurt yourself. Maybe that's what you were. Maybe that's why they didn't want to leave Tony and Thor alone for long either. Tony still had a long recovery ahead, and Thor already appeared to be spiraling into deep depression. 

For a long time, you refused to speak to Wong directly. It hurt too much. The first words you spoke to him were to tell him that you couldn't go back to the Sanctum. He understood what you couldn't say out loud, so he let you keep your distance. Telling you that all you had to evet so was call and he would be there. Guarding over the Sanctum and the home you and Stephen had been building together. Promising to leave everything untouched unless you said otherwise. 

For the next few months, the world around you felt like it was on fast forward. Perhaps it was just that you were moving in slow motion. You ate only when someone forced you to. Walked around the outside of the compound, but you had no interest in leaving the grounds. Preferring to spend most of your time curled up in bed, in the generic blank walled bedroom they gave you at the compound. You took care of yourself just enough to make sure your son would be born healthy, and he was. 

A thick head of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that matched Stephen's. You nearly gave him up for adoption because how could you care for and love this perfect little being when it hurt so badly to even just look at him? You couldn't though. You could never give up your one remaining tether to your husband. To Stephen. Instead, you sunk every ounce of energy you had into caring for him. 

Your perfect little Vincent. The only silver lining you could find in a world without the man you loved. The reason you made yourself keep going. His sweet little smile was what kept you alive.

One by one, the remaining Avengers and Guardians started to leave. Rhodey had to help keep the US government and military functioning. Ayo literally had a whole country to run. Carol, Nebula, and Rocket were busy trying to keep other planets from falling apart. Pepper and Tony pretty much dropped off the grid during Tony's recovery. Val took over the responsibilities of New Asgard as Thor continued his own struggles, taking his solace in food and alcohol. Bruce left to try and find a way to peacefully coexist with the big green guy. Wong fell into the role of Sorcerer Supreme, putting the Kamar-Taj and the rest of the mystical arts power structure back into a working order.

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Eventually it was basically just Nat, Steve, you, and little Vincent. Nat was absolutely smitten with your little man. Stealing him away any chance she got, and encouraging you to focus on yourself. That it would be better for both you and Vincent, who she had taken to calling Vinny, if you found ways to take care of yourself too. Both mentally and physically. 

To pacify her, you agreed. Starting small with things you always used to love. Taking nice long baths or showers. Indulging in body care and fragrances that didn't smell like a mix of baby powder and lavender. You started reading books again that didn't have pictures or a rhyme scheme to them. Quickly working through everything in the compound. 

Soon your favorite thing to do was to have Steve take you into the city to visit your favorite little used bookstore, which was luckily still there. You went with Nat a couple times too, but going with Steve always felt better. Something about the white noise of his bike mixed with the wind whipping past you or the soothing sounds of 40's music in his car. Showing him you favorite books and ones that you thought he needed to read. He was content to just quietly wander through the shelves with you, 

Nat was always trying to get you further out of your shell. Like you were her own little pet project. Trying to get you to go to lunch after or go shopping for clothes. She even pitched going lingerie shopping one day. You practically ran back to the compound on foot after that. You were nowhere near ready for that. To be or be seen as a sexual or sensual being again. To move on. Your heart still belonged to and longed for Stephen. Even after it had been years. You still wore your wedding rings for Christ sake.

At night, you still even dreamed of him. Almost every night, Stephen would find you. You didn't know where you were, but the landscape was barren and cold until Stephen would use his magic to cast an image of one of your favorite places. The park near the Sanctum or even the rooftop of the old building. The two of you reminiscing about the times you snuck up there to get away from everything, listening to the sounds of the city. A moment of fleeting happiness in those dreams only to wake up to the cold reality that he was gone and that you had to go on without him. You hated your own mind for torturing you with such vivid dreams.

That was another reason you liked being with Steve on your outings. He didn't treat you like just a mom, but he never pressured you to try to move on. He certainly hadn't either, despite what he told everyone else. You could see it in his eyes. You both simply chose to exist in that moment. No talk of the future or the past. Eventually, you two did start staying out together longer. Expanding your adventures to include things like walks in the park, museums, an occasional movie, and meals. 

It was even with Steve that you decided it was time to pick up some of your stuff from the Sanctum. You didn't get much. Some of the things you had bought for Vincent before he was born, some of your clothes and toiletries, and a few photos of you and Stephen that you wanted Vincent to have. You wanted him to know his father, even if you weren't ready to talk about him much. Other than say how much Stephen would have adored him.

By the time you left, you were shaking like a leaf, even though you ran out of tears to cry a long time ago. After piling everything into the trunk of his car, Steve assumed you would want to go right home. Instead, you wanted to get drunk, telling him to go to the little Mexican restaurant you two frequented. Taking your normal table in the corner of the patio. It was a great spot for people watching.

Luckily, Steve talked you into stopping after two margaritas and a shot of tequila. Also making sure you ate plenty to absorb the alcohol. You were actually feeling better by the time you went to leave. Still telling Steve to take the long way back to the compound. 

"Can I take you somewhere I really like to go? When I just want quiet or want to think?" 

"Sure, Steve. Quiet sounds nice. I love Vincent so much, but he reminds me so much of Stephen. I don't know that I'm quite ready for that. I'll just shoot Nat a text saying she's in charge of bedtime." 

You ended up parked out in the most beautiful field at the edge of an apple orchard. As soon as you got out of the car, the sweet scent of the ripening fruit enveloped you. Paired with the remaining heat from the sun sitting low on the horizon and the cool breeze slowly moving in, it felt perfect. It was breathtaking. 

Your breath hitched a little when Steve's hands found his way to your hips as he helped you climb up on the hood of the sports car. Finding yourself extra self-concious when you turned to get comfy and inevitably ended up with your ass in his face. Noticing the blush you both wore when he went around to the other side and effortlessly pulled himself up next to you. 

He quickly folded up his leather jacket to place under your head. Holding it in place until you were laid back and settled before following you and laying down beside you. His strong arm pressed against you, the warmth of his body radiating off of him. The scent from his jacket, the leather mixed with his cologne, filling your nostrils. Suddenly, you felt drunker on Steve than even the tequila had made you feel.

He noticed you shiver and the goosebumps forming on your arms. Without even thinking, he put one arm around you and pulled you so your head was resting on his shoulder. Moving his jacket so it draped over the two of you like a blanket. You fought the urge to bury your nose into his neck.

Had he always smelled so intoxicating? 

Suddenly, you were feeling things you hadn't felt in literal years. Your body felt nearly electric. Even on those nights when you couldn't sleep and tried to sate an itch that you wanted to deny still existed, or when you dreamed of the passion filled nights you spent with Stephen, it didn't feel like this. It didn't feel like hunger. Like you were starving only to be plopped down in front of a big juicy Thanksgiving feast. It was too much and nowhere near enough.

You felt Steve's heart start to race as his enhanced sense of smell began to pick up what was surely the scent of your growing arousal. As the sun sank lower in the sky and the sound of crickets grew louder, the tension between you continued to grow thicker.  In a moment of bravery, you let your hand come to rest on Steve's abdomen. He let his hand that was wrapped around you start drawing shapes on your hip. 

You both knew you had reached the point of no return when his movements caused the shirt you were wearing to rise, and his fingers finally made contact with your bare skin. Your head tilted upward against his jaw as a needy moan feel from your lips as they pressed gently against his neck. Your teasing breath illiciting a hungry growl from the captain.

Time seemed to slow as he tilted his head down and gazed into your eyes. Seeming to seek confirmation that this wasn't in his head or that you weren't just drunk beyond all reason. The haze of lust in your eyes pushed him to place his lips softly over yours. It was comforting and sweet, and oh so different from the way Stephen used to kiss you. 

That was the reason why you deepened the kiss. Letting your tongue lick across Steve's lips until he reflexively thrust his tongue into your mouth. For the first time since Stephen left, you weren't thinking about how his touch or his kiss used to feel. How much you missed everything about him. You were relishing in the unfamiliar. You stopped thinking and let yourself be taken.

Pulling Steve's large form on top of yours and spreading your legs so he could slot his hips between them. Arching your body up into his at the way his weight felt on top of you. It felt so good. You couldn't stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his legs and dragging your fingernails down his back until you got to his ass. Digging your fingers into his flesh and pulling his pelvis to grind against you.

The feel of his bulge grinding against you making you hungrier for him. You quickly reached up and moved to pull your shirt off. Finally getting your first good look at Steve's face after throwing your shirt to the side. Strands of his dark blonde hair falling forward into his now clouded blue eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen. 

"God, you look so beautiful. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about this. I like being with you. Are you sure you want this? I don't want to pressure you." 

It was sweet, and you were very happy that Steve cared about your feelings and your wants. You liked being with him, too. Right now, though, you didn't want to think. You just wanted to feel. You desperately wanted to feel something good. If that good feeling was having Captain America pound you stupid on the hood of his car, then so be it. You would deal with the consequences afterward.

You quickly began unbuttoning his shirt as you spoke. Looking into his pretty blue eyes only for a moment before focusing again in the expanse of his bare chest coming into view. All smooth skin and a few freckles against thick muscle. 

"Just don't talk, Steve, just touch me, please. I just need you to touch me and kiss me. Okay? Right now, I just need you to take off your pants. Talk later."

He hesitated for a minute, then gave in. Nodding quickly and whispering, "Okay. Okay." Moving to unbutton and unzip his own jeans before moving over to yours as you pushed his shirt back off of his strong shoulders. Dragging your nails back down his newly bare chest before reaching back and bracing yourself on the cool metal of the car hood to help him lift your hips so he could shimmy your own pants down. 

The heat of Steve's gaze ratcheting up even more now that you were down to just your bra and panties. You didn't feel self-conscious or focus on the flaws you always saw in the mirror. For the first time since Stephen, you felt beautiful in someone else's eyes. Steve was seeing you bor just as a mother. Not just as a friend, but as a woman.

Steve descended back on you with the same hunger you showed him. Quickly tearing apart the rest of your clothing and exposing your most intimate places. His eyes darkened and a deep groan came from his chest. Before either of you could speak you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him down to kiss you. Both of you letting yourself succumb to your desires. 

Your hands slowly moved to his hips, catching both his jeans and his boxer briefs and pushing them down in one go. Finally feeling Steve completely bare against you. Skin on skin. The weight of his big thick cock sliding against your wet cunt making you needy. 

You needed to feel him inside you. Needed to feel that delicious stretch. His fingers toying with your nipples already had you starting to tingle. It had been so long, and you didn't realize how much you missed being touched and kissed. How much you missed the feeling of being well fucked.

That's exactly what Steve Rogers made sure you were that night. Not stopping until he had made you cum at least 3 times before you went home to the compound. Of course you were so sensitive that he had you cumming with his first full thrust into you. 

By the time the sun was starting to rise, you and Steve had been at it for hours before finally succumbing to a few hours of sleep in each other's arms. Your alarm, thankfully, making sure you still woke up before Vincent. Until you figured out whether this was a one-time thing you didn't want to get him involved. As far as he needed to know, Uncle Steve was still just Uncle Steve. 

However, by the time the next evening rolled around, after showing Vincent all the photos and things you had picked up from the Sanctum, you hated yourself for what you had done. Even if he was gone, you still felt like you betrayed Stephen. So why did you want to do it again if you felt so terrible? Why was it all you could think of that night when you tried to sleep? Or what you found yourself daydreaming about it the shower?

You still loved Stephen with all of your heart and would give anything to have him back, but Steve had reawakened a part of you thought had died with Stephen. Up until that day, you had never even fantasized about anyone else. Just Stephen. It had been years since the blip. You had been pregnant when you lost Stephen. Now you had a dark-haired little toddler running around. He adored his Auntie Nat and Uncle Steve. He was happy even if he didn't have his real father. 

You wanted him to have a fully rounded life, and now that he was almost 5, it wouldn't hurt for him to have a father figure. To see his mother happy and loved. There would never be another Stephen, but maybe you could be happy with Steve. Stephen would want you to be happy, right? Maybe you could be a little family unit together. Even though your whole heart could never belong to Steve, you could give him part of it. Maybe that was all you could ask for.

You found yourself confiding in Nat. Needing to share the guilt you felt and hear everything you were thinking said out loud. Of course, you would take into account whatever advice she had to offer, but it was more that you desperately needed to share the thoughts that were eating at you. 

After spilling everything, you noticed her face was unchanged. Your brows furrowed as you saw the mischievous glint in her eyes and her biting at her bottom lip to keep from smiling. As you figured out exactly why she was holding back a grin, you buried your face in your hands. 

"Ugh… Steve already told you we slept together, didn't he?"

A snort came from the redhead, well half redhead half blonde. Already confirming your suspicions. 

"I caught him sneaking out of your bedroom the other day, and you know how terrible he is at lying. It wasn't exactly hard to connect the dots." 

Her smile faded when she saw the tears forming in your eyes. She came over to where you were sitting and pulled you into a tight hug. Starting to rock you back and forth when she heard your soft cries.

"I know how much you still love Stephen, and so does Steve. He's not expecting you to just forget about him. He knows how important he was to you. Stephen knew how much you loved him, and he would want you to feel love even without him. For yourself just as much as for Vincent. He wouldn't have sacrificed himself if he didn't. We all lost people, and we are all still hurting, but you deserve good things in your life. You deserve to feel happy and even find love again. Whether or not that is with Steve is between the two of you. You can't keep punishing yourself for what happened. None of us can. Maybe we all just need to finally move on. " 

You both sat in silence, holding each other close. Thanking the powers that be that even after losing the love of your life, you had found a best friend to help keep you sane. Both of you slowly sinking to the edge of sleep, drifting between the present world and the dreamworld where Stephen still visited you. Only for you to be snapped awake by the sound of knocking and a vaguely familiar voice. 

You cracked one eye open and found the security camera for the front door to be the cause of the disturbance. What you saw made your heart jump into your throat. Sticking his face right up into the camera was a man you knew only from his picture, the one that was displayed on the same board as Stephen's after the snap. It was the face of Scott Lang, who had supposedly been blipped 5 years ago along with the others. 

Without looking away from the screen you shook Nat awake. Sure that if you looked away from the screen he would disappear, either as a figment of your own imagination or a hallucination. You couldn't even form words to communicate properly until Nat realized what you were seeing. 

"Oh my god! Is that… Scott?"

"Nat, is that live? That's not video, right? How is that real?"

She bolted up from the couch and over to the monitors. Double checking the feed to make sure it was, in fact, live and that everything checked out. Making sure she followed all safety protocols before opening the door.

"I have no idea, but go get Steve, and you may want to put some coffee on. If this is real, it's gonna be a long night."

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Vincent loved having Scott there, and Scott was great with him. Showing him all sorts of card tricks and close-up magic. He was almost more goofy, big brother than anything. Even as the rest of the group started to trickle back into the compound, brought back together by Scott's time heist plan, Scott was still the cool one. With the exception of Rocket, because even close-up magic can't beat talking raccoon. 

You listened from the dining area at your son and his new friends gathered in the living room. All eyes on the toddler as he colored. Various coloring books and crayons scattered on the table being used by Scott, Rocket, Bruce, and Nebula. You and Steve were busy setting out plates and silverware while Nat and Clint had begun retrieving enough take out food to feed an army. Thor was asleep on the couch.

"Mommy says my daddy could do magic. He's not here to show me though, he disappeared with lots of other people. Maybe you and my uncle Wong could teach me how to do magic, and I can bring them all back? Then mommy won't be sad anymore." 

You could see Scott glance at you over Vincent's shoulder. Trying not to draw attention to the fact that he knew you were listening. The tears quickly blurred your vision before you moved to wipe them away. Scott didn't want to overstep his boundaries, not having known you or Vincent very long, but he knew he needed to say something to comfort the boy. He continued before Scott could say anything.

"I know mommy has me and Auntie Nat and Uncle Steve. She says her and Uncle Steve are special friends now, and sometimes he stays with her at night, but I know she still misses Daddy. Sometimes at night I hear her crying and it makes me sad that she's sad. I want to help make her feel better. Plus, I wanna meet Daddy. He sounds really cool." 

Well now that your son had outed you and Steve to all of the other Avengers in the room. You felt very much on display, like an exposed raw nerve. No one wanting to make eye contact with you except Steve and Nat. All feeling a little guilty at having left you knowing now that you still cried yourself to sleep most nights, at least the ones you weren't taking solace in Captain America's arms.

From the living room once more, you catch Scott trying to communicate silently with you. After some eyebrow wiggles and hand gestures, you figured out he wants to tell Vincent about the time heist plan. You assume not everything as Vincent is only 4, but just the fact that they have a plan to try. You figure what the hell, he's bound to notice all the commotion starting around the compoundanyways. 

Maybe it would be best to tell him, especially since it had already been decided the two of you would go to the Sanctum while the heist and ensuing fight was happening. It would be the safest place physically for you to be. Even if mentally, you weren't so sure. If it worked and Stephen did come back, you would have a lot less to explain. If it didn't work though, would your son's heart be broken just like yours? You weren't sure you could handle that.

After a few more seconds of thinking, you give Scott a little nod. Giving him the go-ahead to share the plan with Vincent. Who is he gonna tell anyway? 

"Can you keep a secret? It's an Avengers only secret. So if I tell you it means you're an official Avenger, okay? We have a plan to try and bring everyone back, but we need someone to make sure your mom stays safe while we do. So maybe we can put you in charge of protecting your mom for us? Nat says she's always getting into trouble, and we have to make sure to keep her safe for your dad. Plus, I wanna meet your dad too. He does sound cool. If he's anything like you, then he'll be really cool." 

"I've met him. Not that cool. Right Banner? Now, what's this you were saying about your mom and uncle Steve?" 

Tony Stark was always one to make an entrance, Rhodey not far behind him, and ultimately you were happy to have his sarcasm change the energy in the room back to a more playful one. Tony tilted his sunglasses down and gave your son a little 6 show him he was teasing. The same look he always gave Steve when he was giving him shit, which he had managed to do oh so quickly. Your son's giggle breaking the tense air around you as Tony clutched his chest and exaggeratedly gasped at the scandalous reveal.

You had to laugh at the way Steve rolled his eyes. You knew he wasn't one to kiss and tell, let alone when you were still another man's wife. Even if that other man had been blipped years ago by a mad titan. You weren't officially a thing, but you weren't not a thing either. Truthfully, you both had yet to figure out exactly what you were for each other.

You were surprised when you felt a hand on your shoulder and looked ovet to see Clint. A shell of who he had been. Deep black circles under his eyes, a mohawk, and a plethora of new tattoos. Having lost his wife and his kids you knew he had struggled to make it this far. He offered you a tight lipped half smile. A smile that said I know your pain, and in the case you knew that he really did know.

"I know it's not exactly the same, but speaking as someone who also lost a spouse you still seem to handling it much better than me. I know everyone lost people, but you really got a raw deal. You're doing a great job, mom."

You hadn't realized Nebula had left the living room until she chimed in as well. Her monotone voice doing nothing to hide her feelings as she spoke. 

"He is right. You are a good mother. Even if his father is dead. He is happy and loved. That's all I ever wanted… to be loved." 

You knew she meant it nicer than it sounded. She was just very blunt. You wanted to say something back to her. To tell her that she is loved. You wanted to hug her, but knew that probably wasn't the best thing. Instead settling for reaching out to put your hand on hers as she went to grab a plate. Her breath hitching and her body jumping lightly at even that friendly gesture.  

You squeezed her hand in yours and gave her a little smile and a nod whispering a silent thank you. Letting go before she had the chance to return the nod, not wanting to pressure her into responding further. Your smile growing when a soft "You are welcome" fell from her lips. Excusing yourself so you could go get Vincent as well as wake up Thor, and she could start plating her food. 

After everyone got their food and the plotting of how and where to find all the infinity stones began, you and Vincent began planning for your own adventure. Packing all that you would need for an extended stay at the Sanctum. Making sure you had everything important accounted for. The time heist and potential following battle could go any number of ways, you and Vincent had to be prepared for anything. No matter what happened.

So you packed your belongings and started the process of moving yourselves back to the place that for years had been your home. The Sanctum Sanctorum. Now, it just felt haunted and empty. Moving yourself and Vincent into new bedrooms and not daring to even open the door to the master bedroom you and Stephen once shared. 

Vincent was enjoying helping build the time machine however he could. Even just carrying tools or supervising. The time passed quicker than you would have hoped, and before long, the big day was staring down at you. Wong had made sure you were all settled in by then.

You and Steve had spent what, if all went according to plan, would be your final night together. He promised you that they would succeed, whatever it took. They would set the world right. That they would do it for you and for Vincent. 

It would be your job to throw the switches and start the time machine that would scatter the Avengers throughout time and across all corners of the universe. Then Wong would take you and Vincent to the Sanctum before leaving to gather the forces of the Kamar-Taj and the other Sanctums. 

One by one all of them gave Vincent a high five, a fist bump, or a hug as they climbed up onto the platform. Nat was the last one up, other than Bruce who checked all the settings one last time. 

You noticed an odd look in her eyes as she hugged you so tight you could hardly breathe. From the corner of your eye, you saw her slip two sealed envelopes into Vincent's Captain America backpack. Kneeling down at eye level and making him promise to keep you safe. Telling him how proud she was of him before kissing the top of his head and joining the others.

After Steve finished his signature Captain America speech, you told Vincent to go stand back on the other side of the room with Wong. To make sure if anything went wrong, he would be protected. Starting your countdown once he was at a safe distance. 

"Three… two… one… God speed."

As soon as the shockwave had cleared and all of them had disappeared, you checked the machine's settings against the paper Bruce and Scott had given you. Making sure everything looked stable and the platform was ready for their return. Starting the countdown clock ticking. It should only be five minutes in your time before they all returned.

Wong had already opened the portal to the Sanctum and sent Vincent through as you looked around at the Avengers compound one more time. On some level you knew that it was the last time you would see it. You didn't know what was coming next, but you knew there was no turning back now. 

And so you stepped through the gold glimmering portal into the grand foyer of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Once again your home. For better or for worse. Giving Wong a hug and a thank you before sending him off to ready the other sorcerers for battle. 

For now, your job was just to take care of your son. The only job you had really cared about for the last five years. Taking his small hand in yours and leading him into the dining room. While the others searched for the stones that could bring your husband back, dinner was the top priority on your list. For Vincent, you had to keep up a semblance of normalcy, even if every fiber in your body felt like it wanted to go hide under the bed.

All you could do was wait and hope…

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Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 8)

tw: like nasty living conditions implied

vote on da poll below ill start writing after 20 votes, next chapter will b focusing on monty

part 9

You can't do it. You can't say no to Yves without going through mental hoops. So you sigh as you let him conquer your room.

You had posters of your favorite artists, but they were all lost in the clutter long ago. It reemerged dusty and damaged, but Yves repaired it the best he could. It looks decent enough to hang.

You watched him cover his mouth in contemplation as he looked around the room, trying to figure out the best place to hang it.

Yves has done more for you than everyone else combined in your life. He cleaned, he cooked, he took care of your sickness, he cleaned you, he fed you, and now he's decorating your room to make it more habitable. All of this and you never said a word, neither protest nor request. You just let him do his thing.

From what you read in the group chat, he also replenished your section of the fridge with groceries.

Your housemate took a picture of the things he bought, all of them were labelled with your name. His handwriting is black marker ink undoubtedly beautiful.

Your housemate did warn him that you're not one for cooking, the perishables could potentially go to waste. He replied that he will be visiting over for the next few days to make your meals. One of them even broke the landlord's rules and gave him a spare key to the front door.

Eventually, Yves found the perfect places to position your posters' forever home. Who knew just the strategic placement of some piece of laminated paper would elevate a room? It looks much better and oddly bigger now... well maybe the latter due to his cleanup.

He clasped his hands and admired his work. As he should.

After that, he turned to you. Which made you jolt out of surprise.

"It's been an hour and a half. Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

You checked the time. He's right, it's now half past eleven. You're not hungry anymore, so you told him that you're full. He nodded and left your room again.

Your housemates blew up the group chat due to another wild Yves sighting around the house. Is this how it's going to be from now on?

This time, you received a picture of him portioning the leftover congee in disposable containers. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his lean forearms. You're surprised to see that they were riddled in old scars. It was captioned: "He's freezing the rest"

You squinted and it looks like he's weighing them on an electronic scale. There's a marker pen in this picture.

You sent a message to the group chat asking if he's using his own items.

"I think so??? Idk i have never seen these containers b4" "well theyre not stained yellow yet, he has gotta have these brand new" "yea n hes using rich people sharpies, like none of us here can afford it, all of us get offbrands"

You wonder if he managed to fit them into his handbag.

Yves came back into your room, explaining that the congee will last up to 3 months in the freezer. He also walked you through the steps on how to reheat them by yourself, using the microwave or otherwise. Yves told you not to worry if you couldn't remember what to do, he wrote it down and attached it to the containers- or you could call him instead.

You nodded and waited to see what he would do. Yves seem to be doing the same thing to you for the next few seconds. Eventually though, he deem that you didn't need anything from him at the moment.

"I have to retrieve something from my car." He informed you, walking towards his bag and fishing out his keys. He checked the contents of his thermos cup, it's empty. The metal straw clanked around the walls as he picked it up and carried it with him.

You paid no mind to your housemates' frantic messages enquiring about his departure. You're too tired to care anymore, and you're too tired to know if you actually wanted him here or gone. It's nice to have company for once, but it's from a questionable source.

So you tucked yourself under your blanket and curled up into a ball. Hiding your head under your pillow so you wouldn't need to see Yves when he comes in.

You heard footsteps. And sure enough, Yves is now breathing the same diseased air as you.

But this time, he says nothing. Yves flicked the switch to your lights off and set whatever he has down on your desk.

There was a long period of silence accompanied by the soft sounds of typing. A dim glow from his computer screen illuminated his face and reflected on his reading glasses. He's logging in all the events, the observations and other pieces of data he collected from you today.

Yet you're not awake to see any of it. Blissfully sleeping and snoring away as Yves kept you company throughout the night.

__

You woke up the next morning feeling much better. But still not as healthy as usual. You should be fit enough to go to the university today.

Yves is gone and so are his belongings. However, you found a handwritten note addressed to you on your night stand.

"Your breakfast is in the fridge. Look for a mason jar with your name. It is ready to eat. -Yves"

You stretched and yawned, crumpling the paper and shooting it into the trash can.

You peeled the blanket off yourself and set your feet down onto the floor. That was when you realized he left something on the foot of your bed.

Another note resting on top of a set of neatly folded clothes and a bottle of sunscreen.

"The weather today will be reaching 90⁰F/32.2⁰C, take care of yourself and avoid the sun. -Yves"

The clothes he picked for you were the ones you forgot you had. It was breathable and cooling, but in your daily, personal style. He must have found it yesterday when he did your laundry.

You carried it in your arms and walked to your door to see yet another note- this time it was a folded A4 sized paper, attached to your bag, which looked noticeably lighter and... newer.

"I do not recommend leaving yet. But if you do, I packed an umbrella for you. Please wash your water bottle regularly, it is growing mold. Your bag was full of unnecessary paper scraps, wrappers, food crumbs, and other garbage. I had to hand wash it as I found a dried house lizard pressed between a dictionary and a magazine. Some of the notes and textbooks you carry were not even required for this semester or the next, hence I kept it away on your shelf. Your bag had holes at the bottom and was already falling apart at the seams. I sewed the best I could, but replacing and upgrading is the better option. Be mindful of your belongings.-Yves"

Your face became bright red after reading the last line. You never asked him to do this for you! Why is he judging? He chose to stick around! You don't like being told you're pathetic, directly or indirectly!

Did he really have to underline the word "mold" more than thrice? And why did he switch to red ink for that one word?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Exiting your room to pay a visit to the bathroom.

You were taken aback by the cleanliness. It looked like how it was in the listing, shiny and grime free. The shampoo and soap bottles were arranged neatly with no trace of dark sludge coating it.

There is another note stuck to the mirror.

This time, there were crude drawings depicting penises urinating on your name, no doubt vandalized by your housemates. You went ahead to read what Yves had to say.

"To (name), I replaced your toothbrush as that too, was growing mold. Pay attention to your hygiene or else you will be prone to sickness.- Yves"

There were hearts drawn all around his name, no doubt the culprit was your housemate who took a liking to him.

After taking a shower and changing into your new set of clothes, you left the bathroom to eat breakfast in the kitchen.

You opened the now pristine fridge and sure enough, there is a mason jar with a sticker of your name on its side.

You rotated it to see that he has written something else:

"Banana chia pudding: Chia seeds, almond milk, banana slices, vanilla extract, maple syrup, granola. Gluten-free and lactose-free. Do not heat, eat as is."

You're not sure how to feel about the taste, texture and temperature. It is "sick people" food after all. Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you don't. But you are definitely grateful that you have a free meal from Yves.

One of your housemates entered the kitchen, she greeted you as she began preparing her own meal.

You asked her what time Yves left.

"Beats me. His car was already gone when I woke up at 4am to take a piss. He did leave us a note though."

You asked her what she meant by that.

She shoved her hand in her pant pocket and handed a crumpled piece of paper to you.

"I will visit at 6pm, please take care of (name) for me. -Yves"

You asked where did she find this note.

"Next to the light switch in the living room" She cracked open an egg on her skillet.

You looked at the wall clock. It says 12:03pm

You have around 6 hours left before Yves comes back. There is nothing much to do in your house because the Internet runs at a snail's pace and there is no air conditioning. So you would be boiling in your room.

You think you're well enough to move around and you definitely do not want to spend time with your housemates.

You don't have to go to the university, since your exams are over and so are your classes for the semester. But all the study spots, including the library, have air conditioning.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere concept #yandere x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc yves #oc montgomery

[allwaswell16]

Part 2 of a fic rec of spooky One Direction fics as requested in this ask. You can find part one here! If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

💀 Shadow Dances by @itsmotivatingcara

(M, 101k, FBI/Medium) Harry Styles was brought into the FBI for not only his skills, but his ability to mitigate the influx of spirits surrounding the elusive and obnoxiously infuriating sharp-tongued medium he’d been assigned to. Louis gets under his skin, he’s impulsive and a risk to the team according to Harry.

💀 Demon and Immortal (series) by delsicle / @eeveedel

(E, 90k, demon) Harry is a demon and Louis is his eternal mate.

💀 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Suddenly he has someone who listens to him and cares about what he thinks. Someone who really sees him. But their happily ever after is forever marred by an incident at a party during Labor Day weekend, and Louis is left with a choice to make.

💀 Mind of Stone by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(M, 41k, mythology) Louis gingerly moves around the statues, trying not to look at their faces. The room is quiet, probably a basement from the low ceiling. He mentally curses when he doesn’t see a door leading outside.

💀 Across The Lines by @creamcoffeelou

(E, 28k, haunted house) With a camera in hand, Louis sets off on the road trip of his life to explore the most famous haunted houses of the UK. Things don't exactly go to plan.

💀 Where the World has Come Together by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 26k, magic) For the crime of elven blood running through his veins, Louis Tomlinson spends his days protecting the human kingdom he’s been cast out of.

💀 If You Ever Did Believe by patdkitten

(E, 25k, haunted) While doing research for his newest book, he winds up in a quiet little village with a whole lot of ghost stories and rumours waiting to be discovered and a single man who happens to have just as many stories and rumours that follow him as well.

💀 In the Strangest of Ways by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(NR, 17k, ghost) When he is hired to research the origins of a mysterious music sheet, he soon finds he’s not the only one at the manor; a dark presence keeps following him around. The more time he spends at the historic site, the clearer it becomes that something tragic happened here.

💀 it's time to find your wings again by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 12k, magic) The first reports are dismissed, as tall tales or folklore. As mental illness, poor Bathilda, she’d gone loopy. As people simply getting scared in the dark woods and seeing things, making things up.

💀 Veni, Vidi, Amavi by @fallinglikethis

(E, 10k, ghost) Harry remembers why he stayed now, why he’s always had that feeling of waiting. He was holding out for Louis, his soulmate. He was keeping his promise.

💀 All The Songs That You Sing In The Dark by pukeandcry

(M, 10k, zombies) What happened was that first people got sick. What happened after that was that they died. But the worst thing was what happened after that. After they died, they came back.

💀 We'll Never Be Lonely in the Dark by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 6k, psychic) Detective Louis Tomlinson keeps getting blocked when he tries to use his psychic gift to locate a missing child.

💀 Somethin' Old and Red by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

(NR, 5k, vampire) He’d pour a splash into a wine glass —his favourite little joke was telling humans he loved a nice glass of red every now and again— then sat down in his living room and listened to music while he drank.

💀 Then Came The Rain by whoknows

(M, 4k, magic) His vision swims, brain trying to focus, trying to stop seeing double. The rain might begin to wash the blood away, but there’ll be no cleansing of his soul.

💀 Rapture by @allwaswell16

(E, 3k, vampire) It was New Year's Eve in Victorian London, and a lonely vampire could no longer resist the stunning lamplighter he watched night after night.

💀 Needle by @nouies

(NR, 666 words, magic) “You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”

💀 Foreshadowing by @neondiamond

(NR, 666 words, horror) Alone at home on a rainy Friday night, Harry reads a story that resembles his own life a bit too closely…

💀 head all full of stuffin' by Lhhome / @lhhomefics

(T, 666 words, scarecrow) “I don’t!” That’s what Louis had said on live television a little over a month ago when asked whether he thinks scarecrows are sentient creatures. He is severely regretting that right at this moment.

—Rare Pairs—

💀 come take my pulse by nicheinhischest

(M, 38k, Zayn/Niall) Zayn sighs and tells him tiredly, “Y'know, you say eerily cheerful things for someone who bashed a zombie’s face in with a golf club today."

💀 Love's First Bite by skipper / @skipperxao3

(E, 6k, Zayn/Louis) For Zayn, love was never a part of life’s equation, not when you’re considered a lowly vampire while working in the Vampire’s royalty club, Love’s First Bite. 

#ficrec #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #1dsource #1dficvillage #hltracks #ficsfor4am

[blindmagdalena]

Hi, Amy! How are you?

You know, I've been having a lot of thoughts about Homelander's relationship with both Ashley and the rest of the Seven, and wanted to share them, if that's okay :)

Although at first glance it really seems that Homelander just hates his team, I think that it's a bit more complicated than that.

Sure he likes to bully them, intimidate them and generally just play mind games with the team. He's a sadist for sure. However, I also think that he rationalizes his mistreatment of them as "toughening them up".

I've had a lot of teachers (and one terrible boss) who had this mentallity. They use the people bellow them as pounching bags, an outlet for their own frustrations because they know they won't face any repercussions, but they don't see it as an abuse of power. They think that this mistreatment helps to build character and it's necessary.

In a way, they think "they are doing us a favor", and in my mind that's exactly how Homelander sees his relationship with the Seven. "Oh, they re weak and pathetic and so bellow me, but it's okay, I'll make them better" basically.

It's also a form of revenge, because Homelander went through abuse as well while he was in the lab. So, now he believes that pain and humiliation is something everyone should go through because it will make them stronger. This helps him justify his own suffering too. Because if pain isn't necessary to become better, why did he have to go through that?

I think (weirdly enough) that this is particularly true when it comes to his relationship with women.

In his mind, Alex's death was not just a way to intimidate Starlight. It was a loss she needed to experience to "understand the situation she was in". That's why during the interview he held her hand and even said that he missed her, acting like everything was fine between them. Because what he did was for Starlight's benefit so she doesn't have a right to hate him for it.

His issues distinguishing reality from fiction (as in marketing and PR stunts, branding, etc) also played a role in that, but that's beside the point.

AND ASHLEY!!?? I have so many thoughts about how he actually is, deep down, VERY fond of Ashley but feels the need to terrorize her bc she won't be a useful paw if he goes soft on her. Even if she's just using her, you don't hang over the most sucessful company of the world to someone you hate.

Yes, everything he does is horrible and ill-intended, but he doesn't realize it!

He thinks he can hurt people and still have an emotional connection to them, because abuse is just an intrinsical part of any relationship. That's what Jonah Vogelbaum and Vought taught him, and that's why he's always so dumbfounded when people turn on him.

(Poor thing, he really needs to be commited at this point 😩).

aahh wow, so many good points! i agree that Homelander absolutely ascribes to 'tough love,' like pushing Ryan off the roof. that is undoubtedly exactly how he was taught to fly, too. you've nailed his warped perspective on how he goes about teaching people lessons.

though a good deal of his bullying, especially in regards to A-Train and Deep, seems like him lashing out against them for not being his dream team. he's at his worst with them when he feels small and insecure. he treats them as extensions of himself and his image, and when they fail to live up to that, it infuriates him.

i don't know if i entirely agree with the latent fondness beneath his bullying of Ashley: if he is fond of her, i don't think he's aware of it at all. to me, it seems much more like she's his designated adult. a frazzled babysitter. someone he has terrified into being loyal and responsible for all the company related nuances he doesn't understand. it makes so much sense to me when you take into account what Starr said about Homelander having the emotional intelligence of a 14-year-old. she's his stand-in for Stan Edgar.

he's pretty openly doting when he has fondness for someone. Black Noir is a very good example of this.

that said, fondness is different from attachment. i do think he's both attached to and reliant on every member of his team. a teenager who lashes out at their friends and family is still very much reliant on those same people.

i like what you said about him viewing abuse as an intrinsic part of relationships, and something that shouldn't cause people to turn on him. it's fucked up and tragic, and his perspective definitely IS very skewed, but he shows us several times that he's actually pretty soft when it comes to his loved ones.

when Ryan has a panic attack, he doesn't scold him or tell him to get over it. he removes him from the situation, gives him space, and then empathizes with him. obviously he's much softer with his son bc he's actively looking to change the way he was raised through his son.

ultimately to me, Homelander's sadism doesn't come across as quite as meticulous or well thought out as he'd like people to believe. he's a wounded, frustrated child taking out his pain on those around him. he uses fear and torment to get his way because that's what was done to him, and yet he expects them to have the same weird reverence for him that he had for Vogelbaum.

#i hope this makes sense i'm feelin off my game today #but i LOVE your analysis here it's so good #thank you for sharing! #homelander meta #homelander #ask and you shall receive

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the Asshole for not going to my sibling's house?

I have a sibling who I don't see very often because they live halfway across the country.

The rest of our shared family is planning on visiting them for the holidays and me, my partner, and our kid are definitely going. But here's the thing: We're all sharing an airbnb so that we can host the big holiday dinner instead of doing it at Sibling's house. Why? Because, supposedly, Sibling's house is near hoarder-levels of mess.

First let me be clear: I understand that this is a side-effect of mental illness, I have some of those tendencies myself that I actively work against. I'm not judging Sibling or their partner for it. It honestly wouldn't even be a question, except that my partner and I have a toddler. We've been lucky to have avoided anything more serious than some bad diaper rash and seasonal allergies. But being in an environment like that can be a vector for illness, and Toddler's at that age where they will happily grab anything in grabbing distance and stick it in their mouth. So that's my concern.

Now let me address that "supposedly". I haven't been to their house since well before covid. It was, at that point, what I would call pretty messy, but in a way that could be explained as just exhausted new parents who haven't had the free time to tidy up in a while and the mess had gotten away from them. However, our parent and other sibling has been there a couple of times since and the last we talked about it, they told me that it's gotten a lot worse. Bordering on hoarder-worse.

On the one hand, Parent has a tendency to catastrophize. They can see something they think is wrong and exaggerate it into its worst possible explanation, turning even a legitimate issue into something much more severe or dramatic than it actually is. And they've been doing this a lot with Sibling because of how little they actually get to see and talk to them. On the other hand, when Parent was describing the state the house was in, Other Sibling, who is more than willing to call Parent out for exaggerating, backed them up about how bad it was.

On the other other hand, Sibling has since mentioned they've been doing a lot of cleaning. How much? I don't know. Is the house in a significantly better state? I have no idea.

But we're going to be there for a few days, and it's highly likely they'll invite all of us over at some point. Not only that we were all solidifying plans recently and when the possibility was mentioned that we might arrive before the person who made the airbnb reservation, Sibling mentioned that we could just go over to their house to hang out while we wait. And while I had some hope that Parent would understand and back me up and not actively put me in a position where I would have to be the one to say no, when Sibling said that, Parent agreed!

So now I'm worried about pissing everyone off/hurting their feelings during a huge, logistic-heavy family trip over a major holiday.

Would I be justified in putting my foot down and not bringing Toddler over to a potentially hoarder-messy house? Would I just be the asshole for not sucking it up for what would probably end up only being a few hours?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[bratzforchris]

In Sickness and In Health

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Summary: In which Tara and Jake discover Johnnie has a chronic illness, but know they'll always be with him, no matter what <3

Pairing: (platonic! I do not ship the trio in any way) Johnnie x Tara x Jake

Warnings: Chronic illness (nothing graphic and no bodily fluids :)), Jake and Tara are still dating here

Word Count: 2k

A/N: In this fic, Johnnie has a chronic illness called PFAPA. You can read more about it here for more background :). I also have this chronic illness, so it's based on my experience <3 Thank you for reading!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

Chronic illness was the worst thing to hit Johnnie’s life since, well, ever. His condition was especially painful and rendering, and he hated being bound to the couch or his bed for days on end, zapped of all energy. You see, Johnnie had PFAPA, which caused him to have extremely high fevers, sore throats, and just overall feelings of being unwell. Although it was mostly a childhood syndrome, he was one of the rare but very unlucky few that it had lasted into his adult life. 

Johnnie had learned early on in life that being a sick kid meant being a pitied kid. He hated the pitying looks people gave him and the quiet “you’re so strong” murmurs. They made him feel like a zoo animal, separated from the rest of the world, with people cooing at him in sympathy and then going about their day. It wasn’t even just the adults, though. Right up until the time he dropped out of high school to pursue his YouTube career, the other kids had stared at him and whispered about “the boy that was always absent” whenever he walked down the hall. 

And so, he hid it. The only people that knew of his illness were his mother and siblings, and his ex-girlfriend when they had been together. Even then, the only reason Johnnie had told her was because she questioned why a) he was so warm and b) why he wasn’t getting up, especially when it was a repeat occurrence. He was very lucky that his chronic illness wasn’t terrible. He still had some symptoms from day to day, like a weakened immune system and joint pains. But it was the periodic flare ups that practically killed him. It was one week out of every month, almost like a period. Johnnie would run insanely high fevers, getting up to 105 F (40.5 C), have awful joint pain to the point it hurt to move, have a pounding head and a sloshing stomach, and an extremely sore throat to top it all off. 

Fast forward to now, and Johnnie was currently living with Jake and Tara. He loved his best friends with everything in him, but at the same time, he didn’t want them to view him as weak or childish. Stupid logic? Yes, but there was no arguing with Johnnie. He was good at hiding his flare ups at first. He would coat his face in foundation and eyeliner to hide the dark eyebags from restless nights, and he would take enough ibuprofen to subdue a horse. He still didn’t feel great, but it was manageable enough to hide from the two. This, on top of his usual “emo” personality and occasional mental health struggles that kept him in bed for days at time was enough to make Jake and Tara not have a clue. 

All secrets get found out eventually, though. You see, Jake was a loving, wonderful boyfriend; whenever Tara would ask for pain medicine for her period, there he was, already in the car and speeding to the local pharmacy. He was also a great friend, and would buy an additional bottle for Johnnie, who claimed he “liked” having an extra bottle of tablets on hand so he didn’t have to go into Tara’s bathroom should he need pain reliever. At first, Jake brushed it off, knowing Johnnie was definitely a tummy ache boy. However, after about three months of this, he realized Johnnie would ask for the pain reliever almost at the exact same time Tara would need it for her period. Like clockwork. 

“Eh, whatever,” he thought to himself, entering their house with a CVS bag. He had seen Johnnie naked more times than he’d like to admit. His best friend definitely didn’t have a period. “I’m back.” he called, entering the living room. 

Tara and Johnnie were sat on the couch, watching some sort of trashy reality show. Tara was curled up in fetal position from the awful cramps she was currently experiencing, while Johnnie was huddled up under a huge blanket, currently experiencing one of his worst flares up in over six months. Neither seemed particularly interested until Jake dropped the bottles of medicine into their hands. Johnnie immediately ripped into his, dropping three tablets into his hand and swallowing them dry. 

“Someone’s in pain.” Jake raised a brow at his friend while he opened the bottle for Tara, handing it to her along with her water and a kiss on the head. 

“...stomach ache…” Johnnie mumbled, not thinking Jake was going to call him out on it. 

“I can’t find my fucking heating pad.” Tara whined as Jake began to hold her, sitting between the two. 

Johnnie winced, biting his bottom lip and holding the warm fabric closer to his body under the blanket. He felt awful for taking Tara’s heating pad, but he had been desperate for relief from his aching joints. Thank goodness Jake had become focused on massaging Tara’s stomach so neither one of his friends would see his guilty face. 

The boy immediately stood up, clutching the blanket and heating pad to his chest. “I’m in pain and I’m going to bed. Night.” he said rather grumpily, already stalking to his room. 

Tara was pulled out of her pain induced haze to giggle. “It’s like Johnnie has a period.”

“Something like that.” he called back. 

-

Morning had come for the household and Tara was on a mission. She was going to find her heating pad. As much as Jake’s massages had helped last night, he would be gone today to film something with Scuff, so she needed the warm glory. She had searched high and low in every part of the house except Johnnie’s room. 

“Johnnie? Can I come in?” she asked, rapping her knuckles lightly on his closed door. “I need to look for something.”

No answer. Tara knocked again, and then waited. Had he gone with Jake to film? Finally, she twisted the door knob, speaking before she stepped inside. “If you’re in there, I’m coming in!”

The sight Tara saw made her heart shatter. Johnnie was curled up in bed, making sure her heating pad was placed strategically on his knees and wrists. Although the boy had three different fans blowing on him, he was wrapped in heavy blankets, snoring softly. The icing on the cake, though, was the look on Johnnie’s face. He just looked sick. His skin was more pale and ghostly than normal, save for a few, red acne spots. His eyes were ringed with purple and despite his heating pad and blankets, he was shivering. He looked overall unwell. 

Tara bit her lip, debating what to do. She really, really wanted her heating pad, but at the same time, Johnnie looked so comfortable. However, as she turned on her heel to leave Johnnie’s room, the floorboards squeaked under her feet and Johnnie groaned. 

It only took a few moments for the boy to blink open his eyes, and when he did, he flipped shit. “Get out.” Johnnie snapped, his voice hoarse from the flare up. 

“I’m not mad about the heating pad, Johnnie,” Tara said softly. “We all get sick. I’ll get a new one.”

“‘M fine. Get out.” he snapped again, clearly grumpy from the lack of sleep his condition was causing. 

“Are you sure?” Tara moved closer towards the bed, examining his sick form. “You don’t seem fine…”

“Tara, seriously. I’m fine. Just get out.”

As much as Tara put out a nonchalant attitude to the world, she really cared about her friends, and seeing Johnnie clearly in a lot of pain was hurting her. She gently moved to lay a hand on his forehead, but before Johnnie could swat it away, she recoiled and cursed. 

“Shit, Johnnie. You’re burning up.”

“I know,” Johnnie groaned, reaching over and grabbing a thermometer from his nightstand. Based on the way it looked, it was clear Johnnie had been flaring or ‘feeling sick’ for a while. There were empty popsicle wrappers and tea mugs, water bottles, vapo rub, and a variety of medicines and thermometers. Johnnie quickly took his temperature and then shrugged. “104.2 (40.1 C). Lower than last night.”

“Dude,” Tara looked almost dumbfounded. “You gotta get to a hospital. That’s like, scary high.”

Because of the fever and lack of sleep, Johnnie rolled his eyes, a sour tone pouring off his tongue. “I’ll be fine,” he rolled towards the wall. “Just gotta sleep it off.”

“Johnnie,” Tara said firmly. “You are not sleeping this off. You’re going to a hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. ‘M just cold. Maybe I’ll break my own fever record.” he groaned, using his arm to shield his eyes from the sun. 

“That’s it. I’m calling Jake.” she said, whipping out her phone. 

Johnnie bolted up, cursing softly at his aching joints. “Do not call Jake. I swear to god, Tara. Do not call Jake.”

“Johnnie, you’re clearly extremely ill. You need medical attention or you’ll get super sick…more than you are now,” she added, turning to leave. “I’ll come get you when he’s here.”

“I haven’t gotten super sick in 25 years and my fever’s been higher than this.” Johnnie mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” Tara stopped in her tracks.

Johnnie groaned, cuddling back under his comforter. “Since I was born. I’m chronically ill. Google it or some shit. I’m too tired to explain now.”

“...oh.” Tara whispered quietly. “I didn’t know. Is this like an all the time thing or?”

“It’s called PFAPA. Go look it up,” Johnnie already sounded almost asleep again until his voice suddenly wobbled. “But please, don’t tell Jake.”

Tara sat down on Johnnie’s bed, rubbing his thigh. That’s how she knew he must’ve been feeling pretty bad. Johnnie rarely liked physical contact unless he was feeling sick. “Is there a specific reason you kept it from us? It’s okay if you don’t wanna share.” she whispered, taking on a motherly role that few people ever saw. 

“Because you’ll pity me and I hate that shit.”

Tara frowned. “I understand. Thank you for telling me; that’s probably really hard. Do you need anything?”

Johnnie hesitated for a few moments before speaking quietly. “I want a popsicle. For my throat.”

His friend smiled, standing up and pulling the blanket further over him. “Specific flavor?”

“Grape.”

Tara smiled as she left Johnnie’s room, going into the kitchen. She decided to put the kettle on to make Johnnie some tea, knowing tea helped her own sore throats. As the water boiled, Tara pulled out her phone, googling the syndrome Johnnie had mentioned. She grimaced as she read the WebMD article; it sounded extremely painful, like having the flu every single month. Once the water had boiled, Tara made Johnnie a mug of tea and then pulled the freezer open for a popsicle. Her heart practically shattered when she saw a surplus of popsicles, shoved to the back of the freezer. 

Bringing Johnnie’s sickness spread upstairs, Tara saw that he was practically asleep when she opened his bedroom door. But as she handed him the popsicle and tea, he sleepily mumbled “You can tell Jake.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnnie nodded tiredly, already sucking on the popsicle. “Mhm.”

“Huh,” Tara said, but she didn’t question it. “Okay.”

She sent Jake a quick text, hoping he and Scuff were near done. Although his temperature was “normal” for Johnnie, she didn’t feel very good about letting him lay here and burn up. Surprisingly, Johnnie didn’t protest when she sat down at the chair at his streaming desk. He just continued to softly sip the mug of tea. 

“Jake’s on his way.” Tara whispered softly. 

The sick boy just nodded, laying his fluffy, black, bedhead back on the pillow. Tara didn’t hear anything more for a few minutes, until soft snores wafted from Johnnie’s bed. It seemed like it was only a few minutes later when she finally heard Jake come into the house. 

“I’m bac-” Jake was practically yelling until Tara shushed him. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jake asked, tipping his head towards Johnnie. 

“He has a chronic illness,” Tara explained softly. “We can talk then.”

And until then, Jake and Tara would be there to support their best friend, sitting quietly and watching over him as Johnnie slept. 

#johnnie guilbert #jake webber #tara yummy #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert fanfiction #johnnie and jake #jake webber fanfiction #jake webber fluff #jake webber fanfic #the tinas #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake webber smut #youtubers #au #chronic illness #chronically ill #fanfic

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Controversial Character Tournament Round 2: Simon Laurent from Infinity Train vs Yukio Okumura from Blue Exorcist

(remember that these characters are fictional and your fellow tumblr users are real. please be normal in the notes, i will not hesitate to block if you harass people)

Propaganda under the cut, may contain spoilers:

Simon Laurent:

LOVE: - "Simon is one of those characters that is so nuanced you just KNOW the fandom is going to mischaracterize him to hell and back in both directions. (SPOILER ALERT: They did, because of course they did.) He does some really genuinely terrible stuff in the show, but he is also severely traumatized and his story was intended by the creators to be a tragedy. And a lot of people refuse to acknowledge both of those things at the same time. [ head in hands. ] I have a thing about tragic antagonists so, I like him personally. But also!! The show he's a part of is extremely well made, /especially/ the season he's most prominent in. Without going into too much detail to avoid spoiling anymore than necessary to make my point, season three of Infinity Train tells the story of two people who start out at the same place. One is able to change and do better, but the other willingly stays in denial and continues to double down and spiral downward. It's /extremely/ well done and incredibly painful in the best way possible. But (a lot of, not all) the fandom opinions on both of these characters are painful in the /worst/ way possible. So!!! Hopefully I've made a pretty strong argument for him here, Lol." - "He Should Have Lived"

Yukio Okumura:

LOVE: - "I literally love him so much and i actually think he carries the series bc he's such a complex and interesting character but I see a lot of people who Fucking Hate him all because he "was really mean to his brother" and "shot him in the head" but I mean he literally apologized for that and he's a mentally ill minor"

#poll #round 2 #simon laurent #infinity train #yukio okumura #blue exorcist #1 submission #2 submissions