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crymeariveronceagain · 2 years

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Tw self harm

hey uh river, my best friend is self harming and is what to do, because I’m worried she’ll get really mad at me if I tell an adult

That's sounds awful and hard to deal with. Like, 0/10. I've been in similar situations, and I know that twisty feeling in your gut that kind of clings to your insides. It's awful. And like, especially if you think they're gonna get mad at you. Like. It's horrible.

My old best friend got depression really bad in highschool, and I asked my mom for advice on how to help her, and I mentioned it briefly and my friend lost her marbles and got so mad she didn't talk to me for like, two weeks. That's one extreme.

However. One of my friends got really, really, really suicidal and self-destructive in the middle of covid. To the point where like, I had to talk to her to keep her from trying to hurt herself and to keep her hands occupied with texting me. It was not fun at all, but i'd do it again in a heartbeat to help her. However, I knew that, like. I couldn't take care of my friend and duct-tape scissors to the walls, or physically take her away from what was tempting her, or put an ice cube in her hand or anything like that. So, I literally told my mom and told her to tell her mom. My friend got therapy and mental help and a lot more love and patience than I think she'd been getting at home because of it. And she wasn't mad at me, because sometimes, like. You've gotta make the choice that needs to be made for your friend's welfare.

Like, none of this is easy. And none of us(especially kids, I was seventeen when I had to talk my friend down from hurting herself), should have the burden of keeping people away from their own thoughts and own desires on our own. I once went to a class, a communications class, actually. And the professor looked around this room of college kids and was like, "How many of you have had to talk a friend out of hurting themselves?" and literally almost every single person in the room raised their hand. She got this sad look in her eyes and she went, "That's such a hard thing to go through. And all of you have been through it."

Because, heck. It may be normalized, to some extent, but stars. We are not therapists. We are not cognitive behavioral therapists. We are not counselors. We are not parents, we can't get our friends medication, we can't do any of that stuff.

And it sucks. Because we really really really want to help.

So. Like. Here's my advice.

First.

Take a deep breath. It is going to be okay. I swear it.

Second.

There's kind of one question you have to think about.

And it's not a very easy question, because the answer seems obvious, but sometimes it's really really hard to get to that answer. And it sounds harsh, too. I'm not going to say that it doesn't. It's a rough question. But, like. It's a true question. That I think you need the answer to.

Do you care more about your friend's opinion of you, or your friend's physical wellbeing?

(i know. it's a horrible and intense question. but it's a real question.)

If you care more about your friend's opinion of you(not the answer I assume you'll pick, but just for talking's sake), just try to be there for her. Keep talking, call her if you want. Find her some safer alternatives. My favorite(hi. yes. anxiety makes me try to scratch my skin off so like i can focus on something other than my own spiralling thoughts) is putting a rubber band or hair tie on my wrist and like. Snapping it. It hurts like a bitch. But it works! Other ones I've heard that work are holding ice cubes in your hand, ice cold water bucket to stick your hands in, drawing lines on your skin with a marker or pen. Etc. Keep recommending she go to an adult. Just. Pound it into her brain.

If you pick the second option(i think you should pick this option, but i'm not in control of you and you can pick what to do), here's how I'd do it. Give her an ultimatum. Either she can tell, or you will. But someone's gotta. Because enough is too much, and she's hurting, and you can't fix it, but you want it to stop.

Tell her that this is one of those things that you go to the adult with. Like, remember when you were in school and there was like, safety day, or something, where they just sat you down and told you that before going off with anyone, or before trying to tackle the burglar by yourself, you'd go get an adult. Like. This is one of the things you can't keep secret, can't keep locked up. It's a safety issue. And it's not even, "My friend is hiding illegal drugs under their mattress" although, I'd suggest telling an adult immediately about that as well. Or calling the cops.

This is actively and purposefully hurting her. And she's the danger to herself.

Tell her that you're gonna give her til... say. Tomorrow. Tomorrow evening. To tell her parents. Or you will tell your parents, who will tell hers.

Also, btw. There is no reason for you to get involved talking to her parents. That's why you have parents! To do the hard stuff like telling adults that their children are hurting themselves! <3

If you think it would be easier on you, or better than going through your own parents, that's fine, I don't know you or your relationship with your parents, but if they're chill and you're chill with them I 100% suggest going through them. Your parents are also extremely likely to believe you right off the bat, and adults are much more likely to believe other adults than kids. Just. Those are the facts.

I'd suggest you make a concrete plan to tell your parents no matter what, no matter what your friend says they've said or haven't said(because sometimes people lie to get around things like parental intervention), and just. Stick to it. That way your friend gets out of the dangerous situation as quickly as possible.

Overall, this sounds like a really rough situation to be in, and I'm sorry you're in it, love <3

i hope it gets better asap

feel free to send me another ask if you'd like more advice <3 <3 <3

#it's gonna be okay #i promise #i really do reccomend you tell an adult #i cannot make you but that is my advice #just exhale and resign yourself to your friend's anger tbh #i can't tell you what to pick but this is my advice #TW SELF HARM #tw sh #tw self h4rm #tw sh related #tw suicide mention #tw suicidality #tw depression #tw #river's advice column #thanks for the ask!

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hufflautia · 3 years

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A Hidden Darkness

A/N: I wish I had thought of this idea in time for Halloween.

Warnings: This story is a little creepy and has something to do with the supernatural. If you are not comfortable with that kind of stuff, avoid this fic.

Dedicated to @sophiexteresa; thank you for helping me out with British slang :’)

Summary: Slytherin notices that Hufflepuff is acting strange...a little too strange.

Boom!

Ravenclaw immediately drew back from the table, laughing as he pointed at Slytherin; the mini-explosion singed the edges of his hair.

“Bloody hell,” Slytherin grumbled, gingerly rubbing his slightly-burned face. “This game is a load of bollocks.”

He raised an eyebrow as he gathered the remaining cards. “Mate, you were the one who wanted to play Exploding Snap.”

“Yeah, because I wanted the cards to explode in your face.”

Ravenclaw rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of popcorn, chucking it at him.

Slytherin managed to block the attack with his hand, but some landed on his shoulder. As he brushed the popcorn off, he suddenly felt something prodding at the back of his neck. It felt like someone was...sniffing his hair?

He turned around and saw Hufflepuff standing there, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath. “Hey,” he smiled, not registering the fact that it was likely she who just sniffed him. “Alright?”

Hufflepuff gave him a blinding smile and grabbed his hand. “I need you,” she replied, tugging him out of his chair.

“But I’m—”

“Playing cards with Ravenclaw? You can do that later.”

As she led him out of the Great Hall, Slytherin wondered how she knew what he was gonna say. He brushed it off quickly; she could clearly see what they were doing. However, something was definitely strange about her. Hufflepuff would usually greet Ravenclaw kindly if she saw him, but she barely spared him a second glance.

Hufflepuff came to a stop after they passed through the entrance of the Great Hall and turned to face him. “I need to ask you something.”

“Why couldn’t you just ask me before?”

“Because Ravenclaw was there.”

He frowned and said, “But you’ve never had a problem with him before.”

She made a face at him. “He’s an ickle know-it-all. Should’ve socked him in the face, I should.”

He was taken aback—Hufflepuff never behaved like this. She was always sweet and kind, but she was the complete opposite now.

“What’s up with you,” he asked. “You’re acting like a completely different person. And ickle? You’ve never said that before.”

She glared at him. “People change, Slytherin. Besides, I didn’t bring you out there just for you to berate me.” Her tone was calm, but Slytherin could sense the repressed hostility hidden beneath her words.

She seemed to realize that he was staring at her strangely because, in the next moment, she suddenly straightened up and smiled at him widely. "But no reason to fuss about it any longer," she cooed in an oily voice, pinching his cheek. "You're here now, and that's all that matters."

Slytherin studied her face and immediately picked up on the fact that her smile was forced. "Right then," he said slowly, still put off by her demeanor. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

Her expression immediately darkened, and she stepped forward. He fought the urge to take a step back. What was going on with him? This was his girlfriend he was dealing with. She never meant any harm...so why did he feel so uneasy? Her next words sent chills down his spine.

"Would you be able to tell if someone—no, if something were to possess my body?"

Slytherin stared at her, hoping that she would crack a smile and burst out laughing, saying that it was just a prank and she successfully fooled him.

However, she did no such thing. Instead, she stared at him with those dark eyes that he usually found endearing, but there was a coldness to them. An emptiness.

"I..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. What could he say? A feeling of discomfort festered within him, and he spoke again. “Uh, maybe? I think it'd be obvious if you started climbing on the walls or something.”

Nodding, Hufflepuff seemed to mull over his answer before her face broke into a huge smile. “Alrighty then.” She suddenly plucked a piece of popcorn that had been lying in the collar of his shirt and popped it in her mouth. “Can I watch you play Exploding Snap with Ravenclunk?”

“I thought you didn’t like Ravenclunk.”

“I wanna see the cards explode in his face,” she shrugged.

Slytherin hummed a laugh, momentarily forgetting how unusual she was acting, and began leading her back into the Great Hall. He felt a tug at his hand and turned back, only for Hufflepuff to smash her face onto his.

The kiss was rough and sloppy, an alarming contrast to how they normally kissed. Drawing his bottom lip between her teeth, she bit down hard enough to make him pull away abruptly. He gingerly touched his lip and found his fingers to be stained with blood. He looked back up at her, shocked.

A bit of his blood smeared across her teeth, she smiled coyly. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest bit. “You know I get carried away sometimes…”

Slytherin didn’t respond and simply stood there like a statue, face awash with horror as he stared at her.

“I’ve gotta go now. I have lots to do today.” With that, she ambled away, leaving Slytherin standing there and looking as if he had just seen a ghost.

Hufflepuff wandered through the corridors, letting her hands brush against the cobblestone wall as she inhaled the sweet smell drifting from the Kitchens.

I have to admit, the voice cackled. This is quite luxurious. It’s interesting to be human for once. Smell, taste, touch. I have much to explore.

Please, Hufflepuff begged, trapped within the confines of her body against her own will. Let me go!

Peeves laughed gleefully inside her mind.

But I’m having so much fun.

FIN.

Check out my masterlist! | Kind comments and reblogs are most appreciated :)

Author’s note:

This may be my least favorite fic out of all that I have written. Last night, when I was writing it, I didn’t feel happy and a part of me wanted to discard what I wrote so far because I was like “jessica this is so dumb” but I didn’t wanna throw out what I wrote so far. I’m not even sure if Peeves is able to possess someone’s body, and after I finished writing, I thought “well what if I keep it ambiguous and it’s just some random demon?”. However, I had done some research on how Peeves talks, hence the “ickly”, and I didn’t wanna take out the hints of Hufflepuff not really being Hufflepuff. In addition, it doesn’t seem very hogwarts-like or harry potter related if it were just a random demon. That’s why I thought Filch to be the best option. I thought of this idea yesterday when my sister was acting creepy while we were in the bathroom in the morning. I was brushing my teeth and she was on the toilet, and she straightup looked at me with dead eyes and asked “Would you be able to tell if a demon possessed me?” and I was like

She was twitching and everything, and as I was walking out of the bathroom, she came up right behind me and SNIFFED MY HAIR. Yea, so that was my inspiration for this fic. My initial idea for the ending was that as Hufflepuff walks back with Slytherin to the table, her eyes glow a little and she smiles wickedly. However, I was like hmmmm what if she bits his lips and he bleeds a little?.. Yea, don’t ask me why I thought that. I don’t think I would ever write a fic that includes that bit because slytherpuff doesn’t have that rough-love type of vibe, so I just thought, oh whatever might as well do that now when I have the chance.

In other news, happy March! This is gonna be the month in which I get the rest of my college results and I am a little nervous. Also, I’m going to go on a hiatus because I feel myself going down a spiral right now and it’s likely because my period is coming😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀What fun, am I right??? I get bad PMS, so I’m just gonna leave and focus on my own wellbeing for some time because I tend to get depressed during my period. I might write a bunch of stories and then come out from the dark and then post consistently. I think I am kind of posting consistently already; I have never posted as many fics as I had in February, which is interesting and hopefully not a once-in-a-lifetime thing because I’m done with the college process but now I also have to deal with my own issues in terms of mental health and stuff. It sucks but I will get better.

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic. Let me know what you think!

Tags: slytherpuff-shenanigans @axieleration @sunnniiee @just--another--bean @determinedpines @zenobiagrace @asterinflower @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @mossy-axolotl @dumbbitch11 @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @notsowiseravenclaw @arianatorpotterhead @eatacrackerandstop @luciferswife16 @walkinganomaly @asunshinepuff @lewispoolerpayton @adreameratdawn @thewitcheswords @oncergleekpotterhead @princessstoopid @stardustzainy @flvrqnce @multi-fandom-nutjob @eunnieah @iamahufflepuff @1hufflepuff @introvertedrae @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @peanut-in-the-goal @pufflehuff929 @sophiexteresa @da-fox-rangerrr @dawinehouse @shipping-book-keeper @xxavaloraxx @silverhetdanes @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @elegantcroissantplaidpony @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @vickeyunicorn @arianatorpotterhead @hmilkwhoney @simpering-simpleton @grandcyclecreation @sweetinvisiblewriter @marvelenthusiast10 @mvlpksvthisht @qiaopa @beardedhumanoid @jadefox05 @justanotherperson @inkedintothepaper @minty-malfoy @trippy-morgan @fangirlgeekandfreak @boilyourteeth @absentmindeduniverse @colettedelaurel @halfelven1 @happy-puff @coloring-bud @in-love-with-remus-lupin @autumnpleaves @crakencc @flyme--tothemoon @hedgepuffgirl @littleemotionalpanda @pancakes-and-sugar @korra4321 @aquietkindofthunder @qixnsriess @porksoba @thatfann @hellounicorn @i-have-a-bad-feeling @aasa2102 @zuko-28 @annie-mcl @clementines-x @writtenfoxscreams @randomwriter23 @cryingabtwandavision @coolninjavoid @urfaveslytherin @malfoys-demigod @tumlbr-trasher @violayaxley @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @zainieees-stuff @milk-leaves @priii @capt-sparrow @blueberry-9-pancakes @stressy-depressy

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anotheronechicagobog · 3 years

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Functional Dysfunction - Rheese - Chapter 1

written by @anotheronechicagobog

A/N: This is a new series I’ve been trying to work on and I’m so happy that I’m finally done the first chapter! It’s IMPORTANT to note that this the fic I took a survey for a while back so; Sarah Reese has a double specialty of ED and Neuro. Also, it’s a bit AU so be prepared for that.

Warnings: swearing, vomit, unplanned pregnancy, talk of abortion

The waiting room was a decent size, but she still felt small. Surrounded by medical diagrams and leather couches, and pregnant women, and pregnant women with children. She felt completely out of depth and she was finding it hard to breathe. Her tunnel vision was only broken when the nurse called her name. The older woman smiled at her obvious nerves and Sarah was instantly relieved, not because of the woman’s assuring demeanour, but because she knew that if she had gone to a doctor at MED instead of Planned Parenthood, she would have instead been met with shock, judgement, and awaiting a comment from Doris.

“Dr. Singh will be with you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

So Sarah laid back on the examination table in the flimsy blue paper gown with her unmentionables in the breeze, because of course, Sarah found herself in a situation where she’d need a transvaginal ultrasound instead of a pap smear. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to calm herself down.

“Ms. Reese?”

“Hi.”

“Hello, I’m Dr. Singh. You believe you’re pregnant?”

“Yes, I took two home tests, I’ve been nauseous but only between two and four in the afternoon and one and four in the morning, I missed my period, I’ve been fatigued, and my breasts have been sore. And it’s... Uh, it’s Dr. Reese, actually.”

“Okay, then. Are you in your residency?”

“Halfway through my second year.”

“So you know how this works then.”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring any support? We have counsellors and resources you can use. Your mental and emotional wellbeing is just as important as your physical health.”

“I’m fine. I just want to get the pregnancy confirmed and then book an abortion. I’m in my second year of residency, the father was a one night stand, and my main source of income comes from my mother who would not approve of me having a baby out of wedlock.”

“I completely understand. Med school was hard enough for me without pregnancy and then a baby. We’re still going to have a counsellor talk to you about it beforehand, make sure that you’re making the decision for you and not for anyone else.”

“Alright, I guess.”

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?”

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

Sarah was right, she was pregnant. She wasn’t surprised and it didn’t change how she felt. So when she walked into her next shift she didn’t expect a concerned Maggie to approach her. “Hey Sarah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Maggie, why? Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

“You’re pale, you haven’t been eating much lately, and you’ve been more tired lately. What’s going on Reese, are you sick? You can talk to Goodwin and she’ll give you time off.”

“I’m grateful that you’re worried about me Maggie, but I’m not sick or anything, I promise. It’s just stress.” Sarah tried and failed to tell herself that she wasn’t technically lying, but pushed that thought to the back of her mind and took in Maggie’s disbelieving demeanour.

“If you’re sure...”

“I am.” Maggie gave her a look that clearly said ‘I don’t think you’re telling the truth but your lie is plausible so I’m letting it go for now’ as she exited the doctor’s lounge, leaving Sarah alone. She took a deep breath as she put her stuff in her locker before grabbing a clean pair of scrubs. After she’d changed into them she looked into the full mirror of the dressing room, staring herself down. She willed against herself not to do it and lost. She turned to the side and placed her hands over her abdomen. She knew that the fetus inside of her was tiny, the size of a sesame seed, but... She didn’t know what she was doing, truthfully. So she shook her head and squared her shoulders before tying her hair back and walking up to the nurses’ station. “What have you got for me, Maggie?”

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Andrew Pierson was seventeen and optimistic, something that both she and Rhodes admired. It made their daily rounds and checkups much easier. On most days they both went at the same time so that both departments were able to get first-hand results and to prevent miscommunication. The only problem was that they were always at 3:30 pm, smack dab in the one-hour afternoon window of Sarah’s ‘morning’ sickness. She did her best to quell it in advance; ginger tea, fresh air, mindful of what she’d had for lunch, and she was always drinking water. Sometimes though, like today, morning sickness couldn’t be quelled or repressed. She and Rhodes were discussing Andrew’s latest brain scan and what his injury meant for a valve replacement, when it reared its ugly head like never before. The bile was rising up her throat, fast and hot. She stopped talking in the middle of her sentence, drawing attention from her colleague and her patient. She didn’t register dropping her tablet. She darted into the adjoining bathroom and emptied the little liquid she had in her stomach. Even after it was all out she had to sit there dry-heaving. The burning discomfort in her throat didn’t bother her like it used to, and the painful twisting in her stomach annoyed her more than anything else at this point. When the hellish nausea finally passed she was able to register that she wasn’t alone. Rhodes stood behind her, holding her hair back for her. She turned to look at him and he clearly felt unbelievably awkward, like her, but she did see worry clearly on display behind his eyes. “What’s going on, Reese? You’ve been sick all week.” She hastily got on her feet, only for Rhodes to have to steady her when her balance wavered and mind spun from doing it too fast. After she was okay enough that Rhodes could let go, she warily made her way to the sink to rinse her mouth, only to find that there was some vomit on the edges of her lips and chin, only furthering her embarrassment as Rhodes tried to make eye contact in the mirror.

“It’s nothing-”

“Okay, stop. This is not nothing, you don’t think I’ve noticed how pale and nauseous you get every day? I may have my head wrapped around for too much but I’m not an idiot. Not to mention, you literally just dropped our patient’s brain scans to vomit. You are not fine, actually, you know what? Let’s just go down to the ED, get you checked out-”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Reese, these are continual symptoms, they could be the sign of-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“... Oh.” Sarah bit out harshly, turned the water off, and left the bathroom, leaving Rhodes standing by the toilet, as she blinked back tears. The look in his eyes, the acknowledgement, the pity. She picked up her, thankfully undamaged tablet, as a demure Dr. Rhodes came to stand beside her again. “I’m very sorry Mr. Pierson, I think I ate some bad sushi yesterday. Let’s just finish our appointment and then we can get you started on your new preparation plan so that you’re ready for surgery, okay?”

“Sounds good, and I hope you feel better soon, doc.”

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Dr. Rhodes had spent the remainder of Andrew’s appointment standing beside her clearly shocked and somewhat muted. When they both left though, he steered her into the closest conference room he could find. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, now if you’ll excuse me I have other patients that need my care-”

“What about you? Who’s caring for you? You’ve been really sick, and although pregnancy explains it, it doesn’t change the fact that you have concerning symptoms or that Maggie is one bathroom trip away from admitting you into the hospital herself. Because I haven’t heard anything about you in any of the gossip I’m going to assume that you haven’t told many, if any at all, people here. So is there anyone who knows? Anyone who can help you out? And what about the father? I mean you’re pregnant, you’re going to have a baby. Have you spoken to Goodwin yet? She’ll work with everyone to make sure that you’ve got everything you need-”

“Okay, stop! No one knows and I want to keep it that way. I’m not... I’m getting an abortion. And I just...” Sarah took a deep breath as she blinked her tears away. Not now, not at work, not in front of Dr. Rhodes.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” He stood there awkwardly, his arms hovering around her form, unsure of whether he should embrace her or not. Sarah shrugged his hand away and took a few controlled breaths. “I won’t tell anyone, but, does anybody know? And I don’t mean from work, I mean in general, do you have someone to talk to about this? Or take you to and from the procedure?”

“No but it’s fine, I’ll just call a cab after.”

“What if something goes wrong during the procedure, who are they going to call? You have to list an emergency contact.”

“I’ll be fine, everything will be fine.” Sarah took a steadying breath as she tried to quell her morning sickness, again, and stop her body from shaking. “Are you trying to reassure me? Or yourself?” Sarah honestly didn’t have an answer for that.

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Sarah cursed herself constantly over the fifteen-minute drive it took to get to Molly’s. Not only did she reveal a pretty damning secret to one of the hospital’s top surgeons, but she hadn’t been able to get out of going to the bar with the rest of the ED staff. And since Molly’s was a firefighter bar, owned by a few members of the 51st firehouse, the father of her child was most likely going to be there. She sat in her car, trying not to let the dread fill her as she stared at the ornate door of what was now her least favourite bar, not that she enjoyed drinking enough to have a favourite. She took the seat next to Maggie and tried to join in on the laughter that was being shared amongst her colleagues. But she couldn’t, she felt hot and cold all over, her breathing was tense, her chest was constricted, and her smile didn’t quite meet her eyes. The fact that Jimmy Borrelli, the father of the unborn child inside of her that he didn’t even know about, was staring at her with familiar lust-filled eyes, and that Connor Rhodes, currently the only person who knew about her pregnancy, just entered and looked at her with a mix of shock, horror, and concern, did absolutely nothing to help with her stress or her pregnancy symptoms. Rhodes made his way over to the table with a guarded look on his face. “Hey guys, how about I get the next round?”

“You’re not new anymore Rhodes, we know you’re not a complete stuck up ass, you don’t have to keep trying to bribe us.”

“Thanks for your words of kindness, Halstead, but this isn’t bribery, this is me offering beer.”

“... Fair enough, man. I think we’re all up for it.”

“Great, hey Reese, would you mind helping me carry it all over?” The meaningful look Rhodes sent made it clear he was using this as an excuse to talk to her away from their co-workers. “Sure.” She tried to sound chipper as she hopped out of her seat, but her voice was tired and it cracked partway through the word. Rhodes visibly frowned and Sarah could feel the concerned stares from her co-workers. They walked to the counter and nodded at Hermann, ready to wait until he was available. “I know that you’re... ‘Cancelling your subscription’,” he spoke lowly, mindful of all the ears around them and how fast gossip flourished among the groups present, “but you still, you know, have it. Should you be drinking?”

“I’m not. I’ve missed too many get-togethers and because of my, uh ‘binge-watching’. People, Maggie in particular are getting suspicious. And honestly, even though I’m ‘cancelling my subscription’, I can’t bring myself to do anything to harm... You know. I, uh, I don’t even drink, really.”

“Yeah, I know. Is there anything else I can get you, then?” Sarah shook her head even though her stomach had turned on her and was eating itself. The bodily organ betrayed her, making an audible growl that could be heard above the music bursting out of the speaker directly above them and the loud mixture of conversations that made nearly everything inaudible. He raised his eyebrow as she scolded herself internally and tried to ignore the warmth creeping up to her cheeks at his bemused expression. “You sure about that? How about some food? I hear that Mills has taken up working the kitchen here, the food should be good.”

“The food is great! And I’m not just saying that because I own that place.” Sarah jumped at Hermann’s voice, not knowing he’d gotten back to them.

“Would you mind showing me a menu then, Hermann? I won’t turn down free food.” Sarah nodded her head at the man standing next to her with a slight smile on her face, feeling better than she had all day if she was being honest. “Oh, is the good doctor buying again?”

“Yes I am, which reminds me, three pitchers of Coors please, and-”

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“And spaghetti and meatballs, please.”

“You got it. Here’s your beer, glasses for everyone, and your food’ll be brought over to you when it’s done.”

“Great.”

“And Reese?”

“Yeah?”

“Give us a good review, will ya? We could use all the help we can get to gain some traction for the kitchen.”

“You got it.”

Sarah eyed the tower of glasses she had in her right hand, concentrating far more than necessary if she was being honest, to make sure that she didn’t drop them. When Sarah set the glasses and full pitcher down she took the opportunity to look around the tables at her colleagues. Everyone had gone back to their conversations, and weren’t regarding her with caution, except for Maggie and Manning. They shared a look with each other, then her. “I’m fine, promise.” They shared another look with each other before discreetly taking her hands into theirs. “We don’t believe you.”

#One Chicago #chicago med #Chicago Fire #Sarah Reese #connor rhodes x sarah reese #connor rhodes #maggie lockwood #Natalie Manning #jimmy borrelli #will halstead

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xxxrubytuesdayxxx · 4 years

Text

If you give him the benefit of the doubt...

Word Count: 3,230

Disclaimers: This is part (47) of a Choose Your Own Ending!

Check at the end for glossary of Korean terms*

This one was also VERY hard to post as it’s got a little too much of my own personal stuff about JK in it but hopefully, if it makes even just one person smile, it’s worth it :)

Start here:

“Aren’t you going to check on him?” Namjoon asks you, clearly itching to do so himself. “He can’t just wander off like that. Besides aren’t you guys…” he stops, embarrassed. You grin at him, even though you’re feeling far from jovial.

“Aren’t we what, Namjoon?” you prompt him, pretending to be genuinely curious. He mutters something about ‘never mind’ and returns to his coffee.

Hoseok apparently has no such qualms.

“Fucking. Everyone knows you guys are fucking! I’m not playing these stupid games anymore, where everyone pretends they don’t know what’s going on with you two. Or with Yoongi and Mai, for that matter,” he adds as the others stare at him. You sigh and he looks a bit guilty, like he knows he’s crossed a line, and apologises hurriedly. You shake your head and smile at him to let him know he’s off the hook.

“Are you okay Hobi?” you ask him gently, leaning into his ear. “Do you want to come have a chat for a bit?” He looks hesitant, but nods slowly and you gesture across to one of the private rooms behind the meet and greet area.

You address Namjoon as you follow Hoseok over:

“I’m not paid to babysit Jeon Jeongguk, Kim Namjoon. I love all of you equally on a professional level, and I’m currently on the clock. If you want to check on him, be my guest. I’m just going to trust him to come back when he says he will. If he doesn’t, we can both go find him, and I’ll owe you a beer.”

It turns out Hoseok has a personal issue he wants to deal with, but being J-Hope he has been trying to keep up his usual merry antics to the detriment of his own wellbeing. You scold him gently and arrange for him to have the next couple of days off to deal with some of his stuff. He doesn’t offer details and you know enough not to pry, but you wonder whether any of it is to do with his obvious feelings for Mai.

You manage to hold off on worrying about what Jeongguk is up to and he does rematerialise shortly before his half-hour cut-off, looking somewhat sly, which doesn’t exactly make you feel any better, but you shelve it for later…more specifically, when you find him sneaking off in a taxi, instead of getting in the van with the others…

“Spill Jeongguk,” you instruct him, saving the preamble. He licks his lips nervously, clearly not wanting to tell you.

“Look...it’s not what you think,” he defends himself, with all the cliche gaucheness of an adolescent surprised in an affair.

“And what exactly do I think?” you ask him, refusing to play his games.

“I’m...I mean...I don’t know,” he admits, scuffing his shoe on the road.

“I think you need to let me know where you are at all times for your own security, as well as that of the other members,” you remind him, more gently than you had intended to, taking in the crestfallen look on his face. He doesn’t look guilty, just embarrassed. Which is odd if your suspicions are correct.

“I told Namjoon and Taehyung,” he murmurs. You fold your arms.

“Shouldn’t they have updated me then?” you point out.

“I asked them not to...until after tonight…” he whispers, wretchedly.

“Oh…” you hesitate, now utterly confused. “Well okay. I’m assuming you have your reasons,” you allow. “But you know you can tell me anything, right?” you assure him. He nods, but doesn’t volunteer any further information.

"Off you go then,” you tell him, returning to the van pondering what to ask Namjoon and Tae about the whole situation, if anything. At least this somewhat explains their earlier shared look. You decide to just check that you needn’t worry and that Jeongguk is okay and safe. Namjoon assures you definitively that if he wasn’t then he and Tae wouldn’t have kept his secret. Curiouser and curiouser...you ponder.

Obviously your curiosity is further piqued when you subsequently receive a text from Jeongguk asking you to jump in the car he is sending to the apartment wearing ‘something seksi’ and not ask the driver any questions. You do as he asks, your brain whirling. What on earth is the boy planning? You smile at his phrasing, understanding at last why Namjoon and Tae looked less than thrilled when he snuck off earlier. The driver lets you out in front of an exclusive but little-known hotel, leaving you a note in Jeongguk’s handwriting, and you start to put the pieces together. Including why he hasn’t been spending as much on luxuries lately.

You step into the lobby wishing you hadn’t just blindly followed Jeongguk’s sartorial request as you’re drawing more attention than you generally want from strangers. You give your name, and ask for the room number the note specifies, upon which you’re handed a key by a sullen-looking concierge and directed up to the penthouse floor. The little minx is nowhere in sight when you finally open the door, but he’s spread the entire bed with rose petals and he’s obviously ordered room service, as there’s covered dishes laid out and champagne on ice. Your attention is pulled away from the table to the open french doors and you step onto the balcony. Jeongguk waits for you to draw in your breath, which you do at the view over Seoul and Hangang, before revealing himself. You’re barely able to draw in another breath as he comes into view, dressed as if he’s about to step on stage and looking like a snack. He steps across to take your hands.

“Be mine,” he asks you, sweet, but confident. You’re floored and you let him see it in your eyes. You smile and kiss him softly, lingering on his lips.

“I already am yours, Jeon Jeongguk. You’ve owned me since the day I met you,” you admit to him, finally able to speak those words. He shrugs, cute.

“Properly though. Not just in secret,” he clarifies. Unable to think of anything to say, you kiss him again. A different kind of hunger in his eyes, he pulls you insistently towards the bed, forgetting all his careful preparations.

“You look too seksi for me to eat dinner first,” he defends himself preemptively.

“You told me to wear something seksi. Your exact words,” you laugh gently. He smiles, unrepentant, and kisses you messily, drawing your tongue out with his.

“Your dinner will get cold,” you provoke him, placing your hand on his chest. “Besides you look pretty damn banging yourself, but you don’t see me trying to rip your clothes off. It’s good to wait for things sometimes. Anticipation heightens the reward.” You pull him back to the table, ignoring his protests.

“Argh! You tease!” he objects, desire making his eyes sparkle.

“You’d know something about being a tease, wouldn’t you Jeongguk-ah?” you remind him. “You think I didn’t notice you undressing me with your eyes while you were meant to be answering fan questions this afternoon? Joonie was about ready to kick me out of the room, before they started asking really uncomfortable questions.

“I wanted to be in bed with you, not up there on stage,” he states simply. “You know that I can’t give you me the way you can give me you: it’s too tricky with ARMY and BTS. But sometimes I wish I could.” Too many emotions are running through you, so you just kiss him softly, then change the subject.

“So this teasing...is there a particular part of you I’m teasing?” you enquire, letting your fingertips brush the front of his tight, black jeans. He gasps and drops his hands instinctively to protect himself, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut to shift his focus. You guide his hands up to your chest, letting him slip them inside your bra under your dress to fondle your breasts. You can feel your nipples getting as hard as his dick. He slips the dress off your shoulders and catches one nipple between his lips, making you experience an insistent pulse between your legs, then lifts you up onto the edge of the little table, pushing the plates carefully aside to make room.

“Your dinner…” you protest weakly.

“Can you please…[he gathers the English words carefully from his memory] Ah! Sit down...on my...face?” he requests. You give him an incredulous look, but a smirk slips involuntarily across your lips.

“Oh my God Kookie! You didn’t get that from papago…What have you been watching, you pretty little chang-nyo?” you ask him rhetorically, figuring he’s been into Namjoon’s not-so-secret stash of western porn as well as his own hentai. He hooks a finger into the top of your knickers and tries to pull them off, but he’s impeded by your hand, firmly gripping his. Undeterred, he slips two of the fingers from his other hand into your knickers and up inside you, making you gasp.

“Jojotkkuna. Naege manneul juda,” he whispers, lifting his fingers to his tongue without waiting for a reply.

“Wow. Such an impatient brat,” you tease him. “Look...how about I feed you some of this food you’ve gone to so much trouble to organise?” you suggest. “Would that be an acceptable compromise?” He mulls this over then hops off his chair to collect one of the champagne bottles, some strawberries and, somewhat incongruously, a can of whipped cream. Uh-oh...His lips twist in that distinctive way he has when he’s about to cause trouble.

“Don’t you dare…” you warn him futilely, with your hands up to stop him. He grins wickedly, before attacking you with the whipped cream, then spraying you with the champagne. “I kind of don’t want to ask about the strawberries…” you comment, catching your breath after the unprovoked attack. He doesn’t answer, but lifts you back up onto the edge of the table and licks some of the cream and champagne off your chest and neck.

“Yum,” he appraises, giving you one of his utterly adorable little smiles, before slipping your panties off with one swift motion and then, to your startlement, inserting one of his damn strawberries up between your legs, right where he wants it. You figure he did ask politely before taking matters into his own hands, so you just sigh at his sass.

“Kookie, ani,” you try faintly, as you feel his tongue teasing around the fruit. “Oh fuck...Jeongguk...oh God, you feel good…” You give up as he extracts it, slurps it into his mouth, and then replaces it with his way-too-adept tongue. He sits back, when he’s done, looking somewhat like the cat that got the cream, and licks his lips. You stare at him incredulously. “Wow! I never realised just how much of a little slut you were that whole time I thought you were an innocent bunny,” you blurt out. “I mean I know, I know - that whole ‘what tastes good in Busan?’ thing but holy shit! Do you even have a conscience? You must have driven so many girls wild for you to just walk out of their lives the next morning.”

“Who says I waited til the next morning?” he sasses you. “Besides. I’m your slut now, aren’t I?” he reminds you, sulking a little. You laugh gently and kiss his pout.

“That’s weirdly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you acknowledge. “I’m sorry, baby. I was just a bit...taken aback…” you explain. “So do I get to make you scream now then?” He smiles slyly.

“Dinner first?” he suggests.

“Ugh you minx!” you yelp, knowing he’s only doing this to punish you. “Fine. You make everything how you want it and I’ll go wash up seeing as somebody made me all sticky.” His smile turns into a smirk, but he nods his agreement.

“Anyway what happened to you being all hot for it before?” you ask. He shrugs.

“I just wanted to make you as wild for me as I was for you,” he comments.

“I always am, you little monster,” you assure him, leaning down to kiss him again. But you can’t resist needling him just a little, so you whisper “it’s just that I’m older than you, so I can keep it in my pants.” He twists his lips into the same defiant look he conjures when he thinks he’s being ‘challenged’, then ruins his ‘too dignified to enter into this’ charade by sticking his tongue out at you. You capture his tongue with yours and climb onto his lap, as his kisses become more and more passionate. You stop him, pretending you can’t see his erection straining against the tailored black denim of his jeans, when he slips a hand up your skirt.

“I’m going to tear your clothes off the second we’ve eaten, sex-kitten” you tell him, deliberately echoing his words at Bambam’s party, and making him smile and lower his lashes in mock-submission.

You’re as quick as you can be in the shower, but when you come back out Jeongguk has already set up the table and barbecue equipment and you can smell meat cooking. He looks up at you with an odd mixture of pride and anxiety on his face. “I’m doing the meat for us,” he mutters, blushing and looking back down at his handiwork. You sit in one of the chairs backwards, to watch him. He picks up one of the finished pieces and gently feeds it to you with the beautifully-lacquered hotel chopsticks. “Is it okay?” he checks.

“Mm, yes. Delicious.” you reassure him. He smiles sweetly. After you’ve both finished eating, you place your hand on his leg and squeeze it lightly. It doesn’t seem right to keep your promise to just callously ravish him, when he’s gone to all this effort.

“Gomapssumnida, Jeongguk-ah,” you tell him. “This whole night is really special and thoughtful and the dinner was perfect.” He gives you another of his cute bunny smiles, then comes around the table to lift you in his arms, causing you to throw your own arms around his neck and kiss him passionately. He returns your kisses hotly and sloppily as he carries you carefully across the carpet then onto the tiles surrounding the hot-tub in his fancy cuban-heeled dress boots. He lets you down and sits on the edge of the tub, looking at you, doe-eyed and expectant.

“Can I please undress you, yoppeun kkonminam?” you ask him, overwhelmed, as ever, by his delicate beauty.

“Algesseo,” he murmurs, looking shy. You remove his gorgeous, brocade jacket, and then pull his black, tailored shirt loose from the waistband of his jeans, kissing him deeply as you do so. He tosses his bangs coquettishly, making his silver earrings dance, and you kiss his neck, lingering on his collarbone, as you let your fingers work blindly on his buttons. You slide the sleeves of the silky shirt down his arms, and he flings his head back, letting his breath out in an extended sigh as the garment slips to the floor. You bring your hands back around to stroke his now-naked chest and play with his swiftly-hardening nipples.

“Ssibal...Fuck me already, noona,” he breathes. “I can’t wait any longer. Naneun neoreul wonhae.” He takes your face in his hands and bewitches you with his kisses, nipping your bottom lip impatiently, as you fumble hurriedly with his belt buckle and zippers. You put a hand up to his lips and he draws one of your fingers into his mouth, his breath hitching as he bites down gently on it. You ease his jeans down his beautifully toned legs, then lean down to remove his boots and socks, making him giggle. You pause to drink in his loveliness, as he closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

“Jebal,” he begs, his voice coming from somewhere deep in his throat. You slide his Calvin Klein briefs down and drop them with the rest of his discarded clothes, letting your hands caress every inch of him with languorous strokes.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to be yours,” you murmur. He smiles cheekily and raises his eyebrows, his eyes still closed.

“Do me a favour then, and take your clothes off,” he tells you. You laugh and do as he asks, then come over to him. He opens his gorgeously-dark eyes and winks at you, reaching for you to pull you into another kiss. This time his hands explore your body as avidly as yours are caressing his. Eventually he stands up and pulls you with him into the bubbling water, tapping your legs to indicate that you should straddle him when he sits down. You lower yourself onto his erection and he gasps loudly, then groans softly. You share feverish kisses as you bounce yourself up and down on him, both of you giving free reign to a litany of moans as you enjoy each other.

Feeling your orgasm threatening, you tense yourself up and look down at your angelic-faced lover, who is biting his own lip in an obvious attempt to outlast you.

“Uh...Oh God...Noona...wait...” he pleads, his voice coming out of his throat with a husky edge to it. The feel of his cock sliding up and down inside you is making you tingle and his voice sounding so needy like that makes it even harder to hold back, but you manage, tightening your muscles around him and speeding up to coax him to climax first.

“Oh fuck,” he cusses, in English, as you feel him cum. His eyes are at half-mast and his lips parted just the right amount. He looks sexy enough to tempt even a saint to indiscretions. Being no saint, your body swiftly succumbs to its delayed orgasm, and you collapse by his side, snaking your arm around his waist to pull him against you with your last remaining strength. He cuddles into you like a kitten.

“Take me to bed jagiya?” he murmurs sleepily, his head falling onto your shoulder against your neck, his dark hair damp and curling prettily where it’s been touched by the water and the mist. You kiss his perfect mouth, then lace your fingers with his, guiding him up the shallow stairs, towards the rose-petal strewn king-sized bed. He crawls under the covers and pulls you in after him, wrapping you in his arms and legs. You’re drifting halfway to heaven when you hear his phone chime.

“I’m not here,” he sighs into your hair, tossing you the phone from under his pillow. Shaking your head indulgently, you unlock the screen and read the message from Namjoon: “BigHit want you to do fanservice tonight, due to your extreme lack of enthusiasm this afternoon. Can you please do a V Live before you go to sleep?” You read this out loud to your pretty baby, who grunts noncommittally, clearly unimpressed with the content.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbles. You text Namjoon back from his phone, telling him Jeongguk is already asleep, but you’ll ask him when he wakes up. It’s the first time you’ve outright lied for him, but you suspect it won’t be the last. You slip the phone onto his nightstand, turn the light out and drift the rest of the way to heaven in his arms.

THE END

Glossary: (feel free to submit corrections for these ^.^)

Chang-nyo (창녀) Whore (Obviously affectionately here though!)

Jojotkkuna. Naege manneul juda (젖었구나. 내게 맛를 주다) You’re wet. Give me a taste.

Gomapssumnida (고맙숩니다) Thank you (formal/polite)

Yoppeun kkonminam (여쁜 꽃미남) Pretty “flower boy” (traditional Korean, not properly translatable)

Algesseo (알겠어) Okay/Alright

Naneun noreul wonhae (나는 너를 원해) I want you.

Jebal (제발) Please...

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fan fiction #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #BTS story #bts imagines #bts scenarios #BTS jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #nae cheonsa

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web-of-fics · 5 years

Text

Recovery

Requested by: anon (If youre comfortable writing that stuff, could you do a platonic tony x reader one where she is close friend of avengers and has a restrictive eating disorder and tony starts picking up signs about that and confronts her about it and comforts her and reassures he's gonna help her in her recovery? Thank you lots :)

Starring: Tony Stark x she/her reader; fellow Avengers

Fandom: MCU

Chronology: after The Avengers (2012) and Spider-Man Homecoming (2017)

Warnings: reader displays symptoms indicative of restrictive food intake/food avoidance--please read at your personal discretion or stop reading if at any point you find that this narrative does not serve your mental wellbeing

Summary: Reader pays her old friend Tony Stark a visit. He senses something is amiss and reaches out to her about it.

Writer’s note: Anon, I want to take a moment to thank you for submitting this request. You possess great courage for reaching out about something that can be a vulnerable topic and I hope I did it justice. :)

If there are elements of this prompt that resonate with you or anyone else reading this, please be kind to yourself during your personal recovery journey. Some are long and some are short, and some almost seem futile when they just keep going in circles, but no path ever goes in a straight line, and every step is progress.

I also want to mention that I happen to be in a counseling program now, so I will do my best to write an accurate portrayal for this character. However, it is based on my knowledge rather than experience and I am still learning. I do not claim to be an expert on anything and welcome this as an opportunity for constructive criticism as well.

If anyone reading this is in need of professional help, I encourage you to seek it out. You deserve it. Although I cannot provide therapeutic help for anyone on here, I am willing to branch into writing mental health-related fics for those who are interested. <3

Words: 1552

✎_____________________________________________________________________

“Y/n,” Tony said your name more like an announcement than a greeting as you entered the room. Moments before, he’d been addressing the rest of the Avengers about something or other related to impending doom. What else was new? You just hoped it it wasn’t more deep sea fish-looking alien spaceships causing mass destruction. Ever since that whole battle of New York you haven’t quite been the same.

You waved once in acknowledgment of everyone surrounding the expensive-looking lab equipment radiating a neon projection into thin air and made for the kitchen.

“Who is that?” said an unfamiliar voice belonging to an unfamiliar face as you passed by.

“Y/n,” Tony repeated before continuing his science talk.

“Is she an Avenger?”

“No,” Tony said mid-sentence.

“Then,” the person leaned forward from his seat on the couch, “what is she doing here?”

You opened the fridge and poured yourself a glass of the nearest open bottle, not bothering to see what it was. You swirled it mindlessly, watching the exchange like it was something mildly interesting on TV and you were too lazy to search for something more exciting.

Tony turned his full attention on the man.

“She’s a friend. She’s allowed in at her leisure. Open invitation.”

Tony’s mouth turned up in your direction as if laughing at a private joke between the two of you. He made eye contact briefly.

You brought the glass to your lips.

The new guy laughed in bemusement.

Tony took a step toward him. “What’s funny?”

“It took me years to be called an Avenger after we became friends but she can just... strut around our super secret complex whenever she likes?”

Soundlessly, you put the glass on the counter and draw your thick sweater tighter around yourself.

“Ah,” now Tony was smiling, but more in the sense of baring his teeth than enjoying himself. “I see your confusion.” He addressed the man directly. “We’re not friends. We,” he gestured between them, “are coworkers.”

He turned to a screen and waved his palm over it. “And I am giving a presentation. And you are listening to me with your mouth shut,” he enunciated every syllable by the end of his sentence, then shook off the interruption and continued lecturing about his discovery.

You turned away to hide a grin and strolled elsewhere in the complex to leave Tony to his business. You weren’t a fan of stopping in unexpectedly but it had been a particularly tough week. Tuesday had been your father’s birthday. Thursday had been your mother’s.

Outside, you ran into Pepper, exchanged congratulations about their recent engagement, and offered to help prepare for the ceremony if she needed it. She shared that she was on her way to pick up lunch and offered to pick up yours as well. You declined, telling her just ate but you’d take her up on the offer another time, and is she sure she doesn’t need help ordering flower arrangements?

“I’ll let you know,” she said, smiling and waving as she summoned one of the many Stark cars and peeled away.

You shivered in the breeze despite the shining sun helping to warm the earth. Lately it seemed like you were always cold.

You made for the library and decided to pass the time learning what you could from the first book you picked up. Unfortunately for any small talk you ever attempted to make with the Avengers, you were a professor of anthropology and not biochemistry or engineering. You flipped open the book in your hands and read the title page. Maybe learning the gist of quantum physics would help with that.

You were on page 150 when the door opened.

“Knock knock,” Tony said.

You marked your page and stood.

“Tony!”

“Thanks for stopping in,” he said warmly.

“Anytime,” you replied. You grinned. “Open invitation.”

“Always. And,” he added, “you’re invited to stay for dinner.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Am I? Are you sure I’m not intruding on an Avengers-only occasion?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Tony said, catching your meaning immediately. “He’s new, you’ll have to excuse him. But if he even looks at you during dinner I promise I will kick him out. This is a purely social gathering. No shop talk allowed. You’ll fit right in.”

He walked over, placed his fingers on the book and shifted it slightly in his direction. He nodded once.

“You should sit next to Romanoff. Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the door, “you can help me cook.”

“I don’t remember saying I was available,” you said, following him anyway.

“I know,” he said, “but I also know that you are, in fact, available. I had Pepper check your schedule.”

You cross from one building to another in silence. He holds the door open for you as you reenter the kitchen together and adds, “she also told me you ate lunch when I know for a fact you strolled in here, poured that,” he pointed to the glass of orange juice, still filled and gathering condensation where you left it on the countertop, “and went to read up on a topic you know nothing about for several hours.”

You laughed and picked up the glass. “I knew I forgot something! I sat down with that book and couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. And hey,” you pointed at him accusingly, “I knew nothing about quantum physics until several hours ago. Now I do know something about it.”

He raised his palms. “I wasn’t questioning your intellect.” He looked pointedly at the glass in your hand. “Your new eating habits, however, are what struck me as odd.”

You looked at him. “I didn’t realize making a sandwich and taking it to the library was considered odd around here.”

“Uh huh,” Tony said and opened the fridge. Every ingredient remained untouched.

You didn’t say anything. His look of concern now felt like the world’s most intense spotlight. You sipped the juice, deciding a few ounces wouldn’t do you any harm and the Vitamin C ultimately made the calories worthwhile.

“So what’s on the menu for tonight anyway? I’m famished and so incredibly curious to learn what someone like Thor considers an acceptable meal.”

Tony shut the fridge and gazed steadily at you.

“Are you? Famished?”

“I—yeah, sure,” you said, uncertain what answer he wanted and growing less sure your eating habits could still slip under his radar. Not that anything ever avoids his notice.

He started gathering ingredients and various pans from the cabinets.

“And not that I don’t appreciate the chance visit, but why drop in today? We haven’t talked in...”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Where were you when... that... all happened?” he asked.

You knew he was talking about the bizarre invasion that destroyed the city beyond anything you’d ever seen. Like many others, you lost your family that day. You still weren’t used to spending their birthdays mourning instead of celebrating.

You shared your experience of that day with Tony as he cooked up a Mediterranean dish and disclosed his own trauma of that day to you. You were shocked to learn he was still recovering from the effects, and his concerns were only mounting.

“New York will never be safe again, will it?” you said quietly.

“Hey,” Tony stopped stirring and held your face gently. “New York is protected as long as we’re around.”

He returned to stirring the sauce. “We can’t save everyone all the time, but helping even one person is always worthwhile.” He pointed the wooden spoon at you.

“Today that person is you.”

You sniffed--pretending you were interested in smelling food instead of fighting back tears--and stuck your tongue out to lick the spoon. It was warm and savory. For once, your mouth didn’t feel like cotton and recoil at the taste of sustenance. Maybe you could stomach this tonight. And maybe another meal after that.

Tony also tasted the spoon, nodded, and set it on the counter.

“I think it’s time we assembled for dinner,” he said.

- - - - - -

As dinner was served, you and Natasha excitedly caught up on recent developments in your lives--hers far more action-packed than yours--but she was just as genuinely interested in listening to you ramble about faculty drama and unruly students.

The new guy introduced himself to you and attempted to crack jokes as often as possible throughout the evening. He grew on you.

Thor ate three platefuls of whatever Tony had concocted--you still weren’t positive what the vegetable-heavy dish was called, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter.

And you were able to eat several forkfuls of food without resistance. You shrugged your sweater off and hung it on the back of your chair, accepting a cocktail from Tony as he brought a tray of them back to the table, stealing glances at you all the while and smiling to himself.

Although dining with the Avengers was only the first step back to engaging in your regular diet, you felt better knowing you didn’t have to walk that path alone as long as you had Tony Stark by your side. And you never knew him to be a man who abandons a friend in need.

_______________________________________________________________________

Just one more before bed? Click here for a masterlist of my fics!

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friendlyneighborhoodborg · 5 years

Text

Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 4: Rainbow| “Color by Numbers”

And I’m barely on time for Day 4 of @wearemiraculous‘ challenge. I don’t have time to edit it tonight, school and procrastination mean I’m posting this late at night, and I have some more homework I want to get done before tomorrow.

Again, the prompt interpretation was very loose here. “Rainbow,” I interpreted to mean as... well, I think we all know what the rainbow’s supposed to mean.

Disclaimers were in Day 1.

(~2700 flipping words.)

Edit: Something’s wonky with the url, so here’s a link to the chapter on AO3.

Subsequent Edit: It might work now, but I’m keeping the link up just in case.

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

“Alright,” Nathaniel surveyed. “I don’t have a lot of homework tonight. I can do the line-art up to page 3 while you’re settling the specific dialogue.”

Marc looked at the sketchbook. Nathaniel had filled in about five full pages with incredibly detailed pencil sketches, including multilayered shading, during the hour they had been sitting here. On top of this, he’d created many new reference sketches for the two villains – Princess Fragrance with an updated costume, and the newly-created Ghostlight – as well as some new action poses for Reverser (Marc decided to keep the name after all). It looked like something out of an actual, professional superhero comic, and he had the gall to sit here and claim he could only ink half of it.

This boy was going to be the flipping death of him.

“You’re really good,” he said before he could stop himself. “I mean… you’re going to be famous one day.”

“Hah.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, smiling. “No, I’m not there yet. Maybe you, though, one day.”

“N-no.” Marc retreated into himself. “I’ve just been writing what you told me. It’s your story.”

“It’s a crap story.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a great story, and it’s yours. You’ve got great art, awesome designs, and the only weak thing here is my writing.”

“You see,” Nathaniel said, sitting back up. “That’s where you’re wrong on everything.”

“You could’ve had the story without me,” Marc stated. It wasn’t even an argument or an opinion in his eyes- it was just fact that Nathaniel was a better creator. “Just saying, you should have found someone better.”

“Well, look at this.” Marc’s journal was snatched out of his hands, despite his protests. Nath pointed out the section Marc had already shown. “This is emotional stuff, you hear? Reverser gets de-akumatized, he runs away when he doesn’t change back and Mighty-Illustrator finds him.” He skimmed down the paragraph. “All these parallels you drew between them, being the only ones to stay powered up even uncorrupted, all this, this depth you gave them that I never even thought they could have.” He slammed down the journal and stared him down. “This scene would be meaningless without your dialogue.”

“It’s just words.” Marc’s voice was weaker now. “That’s all I’m good at. And it was your story. You set everything up, I just filled in the blanks.”

“All you’re good at?” Nathaniel released the journal from its captivity. “Sure, fine, okay. Words are all you’re good at. And words were all Shakespeare was good at. It was all Dumas was good for. Everything Tolkien was good for.” He pointed at it. “This is just… you’re incredible, okay? Seriously. And trust me, once they see it, everyone’s gonna agree. Then you’ll get the appreciation you deserve.” He started placing his sketchbook, pens, and pencils into his bag. “Now take a rest, man, you deserve it. I’ll keep you posted.”

It was one of Nathaniel’s many attributes. He was so adamant that people he admired had a worth that exceeded his own, Marc had to wonder how he didn’t realize his own abilities. No, drawing was just a thing he liked to do, never mind that he was so good at it. Nathaniel seemed more interested in Marc’s contribution to the project, something Marc hadn’t expected from his first impressions. Now his friend was trying to moderate his wellbeing?

Marc found himself unable to say no.

Here he was, a trashy gay mess of a thing. If Nathaniel kept up with his talent and humility and his whole coolest-person-on-the-planet deal, Marc would never shake his crush at this rate.

Elsewhere in the room, Rose walked into the art room and made her way towards Juleka, who was tuning her guitar. “Sorry Julie,” she apologized. “I looked all over the classroom, and I couldn’t find your mirror anywhere.”

“Really?” Juleka smirked, guitar on her knee, flashing the chain that was on her wrist. “What a surprise.”

“Oh!” Rose looked at the accessory in surprise. “You found it!”

“It was in the locker room. I went down while you were across the hall.” From behind her bass, she withdrew a small black box with a pink ribbon. “I grabbed this, too.”

Rose’s eyes widened at the unexpected object. “Julie, what is this?”

“An early surprise.” The goth unstrapped the guitar to stand up and hand the present over. “I know our six-month anniversary isn’t till Saturday, but…” A wide smile spread across her features. “Well, I couldn’t wait. I had to see your face when you opened it.”

Rose looked at it in surprise. “For me?” She hesitantly picked it up from the gloved hand. “Julie, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, I kinda did.” Juleka waved a hand dismissively. “Considering you’re always getting me things, I had to return the favor somehow.”

“No, you didn’t,” she argued, loosening the bow on top. “You’re more than enough already. I always feel like I’m in your debt.” She almost dropped the box once she opened it and saw inside. “Oh. My. God.”

Marc stopped packing up to look across at the two.

Rose gingerly fingered the sterling chain, hypnotized by the charm. Marc couldn’t see it from his vantage point, but it was a small heart, the size of a coin, with spiked silver-colored bat wings coming off of it. The heart was set in a chrome border, cast resin of swirling dark pink. “Did you make this yourself?

“Luka helped with the metalwork. It’s not real silver, it’s tin, but… well, there isn’t really a difference. You outshine both the same.”

Rose stifled a laugh, unable to stop herself from tearing up in euphoria. She rushed Juleka and enveloped her in a hug. “I love it! I’ll wear it every day!” She quickly clasped it around her neck. “I love you so much!” Rose forcefully pulled her face down (the downside of dating someone a head taller than her) and crashed into it.

Marc stared at them, wondering what it’d be like to hold Nathaniel like that and kiss him like that. And for just a second, watching their young love, he let himself dream that his crush wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Oh, come on,” Alix groaned, breaking the spell. “Teacher! They’re at it again!”

The girls separated, blushing when they realized they had an audience.

The art teacher sighed. “Alix…” He got up from his seat. “Girls,” he reminded, “you did say you had a lot of work to do. I can only keep the room open for another half-hour.”

Rose sighed. “Yes, Mr.—”

“Hey, Marc,” Nathaniel nudged him out of his observation. “You okay? You should get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” he assured, waving a hand towards the pair. “Just, uh… researching our subjects, I guess.”

“Oh yeah. Rose and Juleka.” Nath nodded. “They’re interesting, alright. Part of the reason I agreed to do them for the comic. That reminds me, we should really start thinking about how we’re introducing Juleka’s new villain.”

“Their dynamic is really weird. Juleka’s normally really quiet. But when she’s talking to Rose, it’s so much easier for her to talk.”

“You noticed that too, huh?”

“They’re…” Marc bit his lip. “They’re really happy, aren’t they?”

“If not, they sure fooled me.”

“Then… And they get to be themselves.”

Nathan looked at them. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Good for them.”

Rose and Juleka wrapped up, and Rose walked over to the Graphiti Gurl (as she requested it be spelled). “That wasn’t very nice, Alix.”

“I’m sorry,” Alix grunted, doodling in her homework. “I’m not in the mood today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Nevertheless, she persisted. “But you could have said nicely if we were bothering you.”

“Probably.” She looked up. “I wasn’t in the mood for that either.” They looked at each other for a moment. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m an ass, it’s in my genetics.”

“Right next to the ace gene?” Juleka asked.

“Oh,” Alix grinned, “you bet your bass it is.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just not terribly into everyone’s hyperromantic bullshit today.” She closed her workbook. “No offense in particular to the lovely gay couple in here.”

Marc suddenly found himself speaking. “It’s not as if their love is a hindrance to your life.”

“It is a little in my case.” She turned to Marc. “But it’s not cause they’re gay, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’d be just as moody if a straight couple did what they just did. I’m just not a lovely person. It always seems so fake, the way they people those things, and it gives me a weird sense of… squick.” She shuddered. “I’m aromantic, if you didn’t know.”

“Sorry?”

“I don’t fall in love. Aromantic/Asexual, I don’t even get crushes.”

“Huh.” Marc sat down closer to her. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“Not many people do. It’s the more obscure end of the sexuality spectrum.” She gestured all around them. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but almost everyone in this room is queer.”

“R-really?”

“Yep.” Alix cracked her knuckles and stared him down. “That better not be a problem, Shakespeare.”

“No, I… I just thought there was supposed to be some… ten-percent statistic or something.”

This elicited a laugh from the punk. “Marc, Marc, my dear Marc,” she put her feet up on another chair. “We are Parisian. We are the ten-percent statistic.”

Marc was overwhelmed with yet another emotion he couldn’t name. “So,” he stalled. “You’re all… gay?”

“Queer,” Rose corrected. “That’s the blanket term. You already know Juleka and I are dating, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Well, I’m bisexual.” She put a hand on the taller shoulder and leaned into her. “And she’s a lesbian.”

“I noticed.” Marc did a double-take. “Wait, hang on, did you say everyone?”

“Well, everyone but you, maybe. Even the art teacher’s out.”

“So, what about…” He turned to his writing partner.

Nathaniel realized everyone was looking at him. “Um… I don’t…” he buried his nose into Marc’s writing journal, masterfully evading whatever question they were going to ask before they asked it.

“Forget it,” Alix said. “He’s gone statue again. I can never get anything out of him like this.” “Hey, anyone see where the art teacher went?”

“It’s 16:30.” “He must have left. Guess we can leave now.”

“Alright.” Alix scooped everything into her bag. “Later, losers. Nate?”

Nath left with her. Marc walked out as well, Rose and Juleka at his heels.

‘Everyone in here is different,’ he mused. ‘Like me. Could I…’

“Hey Shakespeare,” Nath stopped him. “Your bag.”

‘Shoot.’

Marc ran up to catch the closing door. “See you tomorrow, he called, retreating back inside.

‘Maybe one day.’

“Rose,” beckoned Juleka, at the base of the metal stairs. “You coming?”

Rose bit her lip nervously. “Behind you, my love.” She turned back towards the room. “I’ll catch up.”

He stuffed everything into his sack, and he was about to leave when…

“Rose?” he asked, looking at the girl in the doorway with confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“… about the comic?”

“About you.” She stepped forward. “You’re acting really weird.”

“Uhhh…… this is how I normally act.”

“And it’s really weird. You flipped out about Juleka yesterday, and today you were kinda staring at us, and you were interested in our dating preferences.” She gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. “You don’t have a crush on my girlfriend, do you?”

“N-no,” Marc yelped. “I-I don’t.”

“Then why are you stuttering?”

“B-because you’re… really close up, it’s actually kind of uncomfortable.”

“Oh, sorry.” She backed away. “Let’s see, then… it’s something about a crush, though isn’t it? I’m really good at telling when someone has a crush.”

“I-I don’t want to—”

“Come on, I won’t judge—”

“Please, Rose, can you just drop it!?”

Rose quieted, shocked at Marc’s rise in volume. He instantly regretted his tone.

“I’m sorry.” He panicked. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He stood there, letting the atmosphere soak up the noise. Then, with his voice so low he might as well have stayed silent, he mumbled. “I like boys.”

“Oh.” Rose smiled sympathetically. “I… That can’t have been easy for you. I promise, it doesn’t make a lick of difference.”

She held out her hand. “Friends?”

Marc stared at it.

For the first time in his life, there was someone who was queer, and who knew he was gay, and who… wanted to be his friend.

Here, in front of him, was someone who might know what was wrong with him.

“Is it… normal?”

Rose smiled. “Yes.”

“Not that.” He summoned his courage. “Is it normal for… for gay men to… not feel like men sometimes?”

That was it. The leap of faith. Either he was normal, there was something in his life that could even be considered normal, and he might be able to live with that.

Rose wasn’t smiling anymore though. Her eyes had gone wide, and she was looking at Marc with dismay.

“I… I don’t think so.”

Marc shattered.

“Why do… why do you ask?”

“Because I’m fucked up.” He fell back onto the box, clutching his arms and hunching over. His hollow eyes started dripping black mascara, spilling over from an over-filled heart. “Because I’m not normal, and I like boys instead of girls, and sometimes…”

Rose didn’t answer, or bid him continue, or say anything that could help him determine how she’d react.

He sniffed. “Sometimes… I think I’d feel better if…” He was just waiting now, any moment, Rose was going to turn and walk away in disgust. “It’s-It’s fucking crazy, but…”

Rose put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey…” she whispered. “You can let it out.”

With one final push, and the reassurance he needed, he forced himself to.

“Sometimes I want to be a girl!”

Rose hugged him. Marc weakly returned the embrace, burying his face into her shoulder.

“There, there,” she consoled, a voice genuinely caring about his trouble. “So is that why you freaked out when… oh. Reflekta zapped you, didn’t she?”

Marc sobbed a little. Rose held him tighter.

The pain was getting too big to ignore now.

He shifted in his seat and Rose let go. “But just, like,” he blubbered. “I’m fine, a lot of the time. Being me, being a boy. It’s just sometimes… not all the time, but sometimes I wish my chest was bigger and I didn’t have a—” He looked up, blushing.

Rose got the picture. “Oh, buddy… Is that it?” She took a deep breath. “Well, I can’t say I know much about dysphoria, but I guess—”

“Does it even count as dysphoria? If I don’t feel it all the time?” He grabbed at his hair, the stress overcoming him. “And that’s not even all of it… sometimes I just feel wrong. No matter how much makeup I put on, how feminine I look, it’s always wrong, like nothing I can do will make me look right. And sometimes, the more I use, the less it works. And it feels like I’m missing some crucial detail, but I don’t know what, and it just leaves me feeling… empty.” He covered his face with his hands. “I feel like that now.”

“I’ve done some reading online,” Rose said. “Dysphoria hits in different ways sometimes. If you’re a girl…” She trailed off, surveying him. “If you’re actually a girl, you shouldn’t force yourself to be a boy. That could really be bad for you, with the coginate… distance – shoot, I heard Max say it once. When you try to accept two different things at the same time?”

“Doublethink?”

“Sounds right. Maybe.”

Marc chuckled ruefully. “So you think I’ve tricked myself into being a boy?”

“Maybe. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.” She caressed his shoulder again, offering her comforting touch. “You can be yourself, Marc, no one can take that from you.”

“Trust me.”

You know what, any editing of this work after I post these will come after the week is already finished. I am not giving myself more to do. But these are done for now, until I think of any better rewordings.

(How I wrote this: I typed out a few cool moments ahead of time, got distracted, and connected them all on the day it was due.)

Comments much appreciated, as always, I want to know if there’s anything I should change in future chapters.

#Marc Appreciation Week #nathmarc #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #alix kubdel #rose lavillant #julerose #juleka couffaine #in no particular order #fanfiction #miraculous ladybug

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purrincess-chat · 6 years

Text

RPM Day 7: Teamwork

Running super behind, but I think starting tomorrow I’m going to jump ahead to the current prompt and then post the current day’s prompt as well as an old one until I catch up. Hopefully you enjoy this 1.7k of Ladybug/Rena Rouge fluff as an apology for not posting XD

Read on AO3

Day 7: Teamwork

“Are afternoons always this quiet?” Rena Rouge asked glumly, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping a little. “When you invited me out to patrol, I figured we’d get to bust some baddies or rescue civilians from a runaway subway car.”

“Stuff like that doesn’t happen every day, you know. Some days are calm, and truthfully, I prefer it that way.” Ladybug stretched her arms above her head with a slight groan. “Why don’t we take a stroll through the park?”

“To look for purse thieves and children being bullied?” Rena perked up, and Ladybug gave her a puzzled look.

“No, because the weather’s nice,” She said slowly, and Rena rubbed the back of her neck.

“Oh, right.” She nodded with a wince as Ladybug hopped over the edge of the roof down to the streets below with Rena following in tow.

“Peaceful Paris is one of my favorite sights,” Ladybug remarked as they strolled along the sidewalk.

“Yeah, but if everything is always peaceful, aren’t you out a job?” Rena said pointedly, and Ladybug shrugged.

“I’d give up being Ladybug forever if Paris was guaranteed to be safe. The wellbeing of the citizens is my top priority.” She glanced around at all of the children playing and flying kites with a small smile. “One day I hope that they won’t need us.”

Rena felt her cheeks flush a little watching the contented way Ladybug watched over the civilians enjoying the weather in the park. She’d never really thought of it that way. In her mind, fighting villains was so exciting and wonderful, and she never wanted to stop. But she supposed Ladybug was right. In order to have superheroes, there needed to be evil in the world for them to fight. Maybe that’s why Rena always had to give hers back at the end of the mission; she still had so much to learn.

Ladybug’s face fell a little, and a short gasp escaped her lips, drawing Rena’s attention back to the present. “That little girl is all alone.”

“Who?” Before she could process, Ladybug darted off toward the small girl wandering around with fearful eyes.

“Ladybug!” The little girl’s eyes widened when they approached, but their presence seemed to bring a sense of relief to her expression.

“Hi there! Are you okay?” Ladybug crouched down to her level with a kind smile.

“I can’t find my papas,” She said with a sniffle, rubbing at her eye with the back of one hand.

“We can help you find them,” Rena offered gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got two superheroes with you now, and we’re going to find them for sure! So, dry those tears, okay?”

The girl nodded bravely, wiping her eyes and squaring her shoulders.

“Atta girl,” Rena said with a smile, scooping her up.

“What’s your name?” Ladybug asked.

“Mia.”

“Well, Mia, you hang on tight okay? We’re gonna go up somewhere really high where we can see your papas,” Ladybug instructed, and Mia nodded obediently, clinging tighter to Rena like a little koala bear.

“Here we go!” Rena rocked back on her heels before leaping high into the air, followed closely by Ladybug. Mia gasped, glancing down at the ground as they landed atop Marinette’s balcony, and Rena swung her up to her shoulders. “This girl is a friend of mine, so she won’t mind if we use her balcony as a lookout. I wonder if she’s home actually…”

“Uh, Rena, why don’t we focus on the matter at hand?” Ladybug suggested with a nervous glance at the skylight.

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.” She said with an apologetic smile.

“Do you see your papas anywhere, Mia?” Ladybug asked, placing a hand to her forehead as she scanned the park across the street. “Can you tell us what they look like?”

“Um, tall and nice,” She replied, squinting a little while she looked. “Ice cream!”

“Oh, looks like Andre is setting up.” Rena pointed to where the ice cream salesman was parking his cart.

“Ice cream does sound pretty good right now.” Ladybug tapped her chin contemplatively. “But we should really focus on getting you back to your parents first.”

“Oh, come on. What harm can it do to get a little treat while we look?” Rena said pointedly, waggling her brows, and Ladybug crossed her arms over her chest, meaning to be firm; however, when she met Rena and Mia’s pitiful pouts, she felt her firm footing slipping.

“Okay, I guess it wouldn’t hurt…”

“Yay!” Rena and Mia cheered together in unison, and Ladybug sighed as Rena hopped back over the edge.

“Ah, what a wonderful treat! Two superheroines and a little girl looking for something sweet,” Andre sang in greeting. “I have just the thing. A little chocolate and raspberry for our small friend.”

Mia’s eyes brightened with excitement as she accepted the cone from Andre and licked it without hesitation. She reminded Rena of her little sister’s a little bit, except without all the bickering.

“Then for our two lovely heroines, a little strawberry, a hint of orange, topped with a delicious caramel drizzle, and voila!” Ladybug and Rena eyed it a moment, exchanging nervous glances before accepting it.

They staked claim over a bench to eat their treats, Ladybug and Rena sharing theirs awkwardly. It wasn’t so much that they had to share, but rather the implication behind Andre giving them a tailored ice cream to share. The ice cream of lovers as he called it, and although Ladybug was really Alya’s best friend, she and Rena were strictly professional. Besides, her heart belonged to Adrien, or so she thought.

“I wanna go on that!” Mia said after a while, pointing to the carousel.

“Don’t you want to find your papas, Mia?” Ladybug asked, but the little girl had her sights on a brightly decorated horse.

“Please?” She whined loudly, and Rena crossed her arms over her chest.

“If we find your parents then you can ride it with them. Don’t you want to find them?” She asked with a hint of scolding, but Mia puckered her lower lip. “Don’t think those baby-doll eyes are going to work on me.”

Ladybug bit her lip a little, attempting to avert her gaze, but ultimately succumbing to the child’s irresistible charm. She thought that after babysitting Manon so much that she’d overcome her weakness to pouting children, but truthfully, she was still just as weak.

“Okay, but only once and then we have to find your parents,” She caved, and Mia cheered in delight, hopping up and taking Ladybug’s hand.

Rena shook her head as they climbed on, attracting the attention of several nearby citizens who pulled out cameras to take pictures. “You really need a backbone, girl.”

“I can’t help it. I don’t want to disappoint her,” She said with a wince as she mounted a unicorn and pulled Mia up beside her.

“I’ll have to teach you how to handle kids,” Rena giggled, climbing onto the one beside them.

The ride started, and Mia squealed with delight. Rena supposed there was no harm in having a little fun with her given that their afternoon had been so quiet, and she assumed Ladybug felt the same way. Perhaps there was more to heroing than Alya had ever imagined. It wasn’t always just fighting bad guys and defeating villains. Sometimes heroes just needed to be kind to someone, and it only made her admire Ladybug more. She truly cared about the citizens of Paris and their wellbeing, and she felt her heart swell a little bit, rushing blood to her cheeks the more she thought about it.

“Papa!” Mia gasped, pointing to two worried-looking men standing at the edge of the crowd gathered around the carousel to watch, and Ladybug gave them a reassuring wave which seemed to calm their nerves.

When the ride was over, Mia rushed over to her fathers, jumping into their arms excitedly while Rena and Ladybug trailed behind. Rena felt a wave of her own relief seeing the family reunite so warmly, and she felt like a hero just as much as when they fought akumas.

“Mia, we were so worried. You can’t go running off like that,” One dad scolded gently before pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I saw a doggy,” She said with a guilty smile, twisting one foot in the dirt, and her dads laughed.

“That sounds about right.” The other nodded, ruffling her hair. “Ladybug, Rena Rouge, we can’t thank you enough for looking after our little girl.”

“It’s no problem. We’re just glad that she got back to you safely,” Ladybug said, clasping her hands together in front of her politely. “You be sure to stay with your papas from now on, Mia, okay?”

“Okay!” She nodded dutifully, and they waved as her fathers took her by the hand and led her off.

Ladybug was so genuine and kind, and Rena felt her chest tighten a little more seeing the relief that came over her once Mia was safely returned to her family. Of course she’d always known that Ladybug was the real deal, but now she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ladybug was a true superheroine through and through. Her admiration for her only grew every day, and Rena hoped that she could be half the hero Ladybug was someday.

“We make quite the team, huh?” Ladybug cocked a brow, turning to Rena who jumped a little.

“Oh, yeah, totally!” She replied, a little flustered, glancing at Ladybug’s raised fist before touching it with her own.

“Bien Joué!”

“So, shall we get back to our stroll?” Ladybug offered, and Rena smiled, nodding in affirmation.

Andre leaned against his cart across the way, watching them go with a proud smile. “Where there is love, Andre always knows.”

#miraculous ladybug #alya cesaire #ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #rena rouge #alyanette #ladyrouge #mlrarepair2018 #day 7: teamwork #my writing

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looselucy · 6 years

Photo

Flowers

131 I was lost within feelings and questions and whirring thoughts that were so strong, everything other than Harry and those sunflowers washed away. I felt like I couldn’t really breathe, and even though he was still smiling at me, I hadn’t said a word.

Eventually, his smile began to fade, and I ignored the quiet sound of my sister cursing through the awkwardness of the situation. His throat hitched again before he spoke. “I certainly wasn’t expecting you to walk into my shop.” “Your shop?” I finally blurted. “Uh… Yeah.” Then I went quiet again, and if anything, I had more questions after that. Matilda came and stood by my side, and I could tell she was extremely eager to save me from the situation in the best way she could, but she was just as taken aback as I was. “If it’s your shop, why did you call it Daniels?” She asked nervously. My eyes went wide. I hadn’t noticed the name when walked in, but even knowing that he’d simply called the shop ‘Daniels’ was enough to stint my words further. I slapped my hand against my mouth, using all my energy to hold back tears. “Uh… I uh… I named it after my brother.” He answered. “Oh.” She simply replied, obviously not knowing the depth of it. She glanced between the two of us, and although she’d tried to help, she knew she was out of place, because we were still just staring at one another. Harry smiled again, and somehow, I managed to smile back. “I’ll give you both a minute.” She scurried down to the front of the shop, leaving me to stand on my own two feet and start dealing with the situation a little more constructively than I had been. Unsurprisingly, I wasn’t entirely successful. “Your hairs gone.” I blurted. “Yeah.” He grinned. “Had a bit of a trim.” “A bit?” “Okay, a lot.” He looked incredible. Happy. Healthy. It was impossible to ignore his bright red nose, and as ridiculous as it was that a boy with hay-fever would open his own flower shop, it didn’t surprise me in the slightest. I’d never seen him looking more himself as he did in that moment. “Where’ve you been?” I cried, desperate for answers to questions that had been bothering me ever since I saw Louis that night almost two months earlier. “I… I’ve been here.” “What? I thought you were traveling?” “No. I… I nearly blew all my savings on that but… I decided to blow all my savings on this place instead.” “You’ve been here?” I whelped. “Yeah.” “I… I tried to call you?” “I fucked my phone up… I just haven’t replaced it yet.” He answered, his face dropping slightly as he nervously continued. “You… You tried to call me?” Suddenly, I went shy again, my heart thumping furiously in my chest, and I merely nodded, wishing I could explain my thoughts and my reasonings a little more, but I couldn’t. Silence returned, goose-bumps crawling across my skin as I went back to just staring at him, and he stared back, a solemn look on his face that I was trying to work out, but couldn’t. It was almost painfully obvious that we were so lost within that moment. Neither of us knew what say, or think, or feel. I’d struggled being in there anyway, because I felt like I could see him within every plant that place homed. He had been there mentally before I knew he was there physically, and that alone had worked me up into a near frenzy. And I couldn’t even imagine how he felt, seeing me. The last time I’d been in his company, he’d kissed me and then practically begged me to walk out of his life. We hadn’t shared a single word since, and I knew for a fact that he would have never expected me to walk into his shop, especially with my sister by my side. I wanted him to be happy to see me, but I couldn’t think of any reason he would be. My eyes flicked to the sunflowers again, and the lump within my throat was bulbous and painful. I managed one step backwards, before he stopped me. “Let’s go out for lunch.” “What?” I gasped. “I’ll just shut up shop, and we’ll go… Please.” “Harry, I-” “Florence!” My sister interrupted, marching over to my side. “A word, please.” She gripped at the top of my arm tight and literally dragged me out of the shop, and I was too bewildered to do anything other than stumble along with her. As soon as we were outdoors, it was considerably colder than I remembered it being, and I took one quick glance up to the swinging sign that marked the building out beautifully, dark green with gold, cursive text. My head was spinning. “Go!” She demanded sternly. “Matty-” “You said you needed closure, and you can get it. He is offering you that time with him, so take it. Because he won’t offer it again, and you know it.” “I’m fucking terrified.” “That’s life, Florence. Suck it up! You have to go and you have to talk to him! It will play on your mind forever if you don’t.” I looked back into the shop, gazing at Harry who still stood behind the counter, watching the two of us talking, but thankfully there was enough distance to mean he couldn’t hear what was being said. In all honesty, I didn’t imagine he thought my sister would be convincing me to take him up on the offer. He probably thought she’d be doing the exact opposite. I looked back to Matilda, and I swear I could feel my heart shattering in my chest. I’d craved some form of closure for the past three months, but when the opportunity finally presented itself, it felt too daunting and too difficult to face. That was exactly why I had to do it. “Okay. You’re right. Okay.” I took a deep breath in, bobbing up and down on the spot, just a little. “I’m just gunna… psyche myself up. I can do this.” “Of course you can.” She encouraged. “You’ve got this.” “I have got this. Okay. It’s just lunch. And I can… I can say I’m sorry and everything will be okay and we can both… move on. On better terms. Shit. Okay.” “Good luck.” “Where’re you going?” “I’ll go search a few more shops, and then I’ll go home. But I’ll ring you later, okay?” “Okay. Thank you.” “Keep calm, alright?” She smiled, beginning to wander off. I nodded, giving her a small wave as she walked away, shooting me the most encouraging smile she could over her shoulder, and the moment had finally arrived. With a few more deep breaths taken, I walked back inside, and for a few brief moments, I thought I was doing a relatively good job at hiding my trembles. That was until he smiled, which made me tumble, and knock over a large plant-pot, which then shattered on the floor by my feet, dirt and daisies covering the ground. “Oh my god,” I slapped my hand against my mouth. “I’m so fucking sorry. Holy shit. I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it!” He just laughed, this beautiful little chuckle that felt so warm and kind and silly, so much so, I somehow felt even worse. I’d tried to forget just how wonderful he was. “Ren, you really are a klutz.” He grinned, his lips spreading from ear to ear. 132 Our city sat ahead of us like a painting; as though life had stilled for a moment. From that point of the city, high at the very top of the park, you could almost track through the streets with your eyes alone, gazing down to lives that were so far away, they were impossible to witness. It was the only part of the city where everything felt still. It was tranquil. I turned to look at Harry, the two of us sat side by side on the park bench, cardboard cups of tea in hand, and I figured that was where we would stay. I think we both knew we wanted to be somewhere a little quieter than anywhere that served food could offer us. He'd chosen the most hushed place our home had to offer. “Louis told me you were traveling.” I mumbled, our silence having dragged long enough that our drinks were cool enough to consume. “Yeah. When I quit Vocatus… that was my plan, but… I dunno. Felt too temporary. Didn’t suit… me and what I want from life.” He explained. “So… I thought about… how I could spend my savings in a way that would make me happy… for years. Possibly forever. And… I kept seeing flowers.” It was perfect for him. It really was. Flowers had been an important part of his life for as long as he could remember, and it seemed with each passing day and with each milestone of his existence, their importance augmented. I couldn’t believe it wasn’t something I’d thought of earlier, and when we’d spoken about his future, it was hard to believe such an option had never come up. It was exactly where he belonged. He couldn’t have done anything else. “How’s it going?” “Really well.” He huffed, seeming genuinely surprised. “I’m actually… earning. I’ve got regulars already, and it’s only been open two months.” “Well, you’re very charming.” I cooed. “You must… really draw people in.” “Makes the constant sniffles worth it.” He grinned. “I thought I’d… be scraping by, but… it’s looking like I could even employ someone to help and still be making money. It’s sick. Gunna… look into going to shows and stuff next year with arrangements.” “You seem so happy.” I sighed, rose tinted glasses firmly on. “I am happy.” For the past three months, the main question that had haunted me on a daily basis, was the simple query of his wellbeing, and if he was happy. That was the main thing, and I finally had my answer, and it was everything I wanted it to be. “You named the shop after your brother.” I quivered, unable to avoid the swell of tears within my eyes. “I did.” He smiled, so at peace with it. “It took me a while to decide, but… It felt right.” I wondered if naming his own flower shop after his brother had been another way to help him deal with the loss, because looking at him then, you could tell it truly meant something to him. But at the same time, it was almost like he’d known of his brother for years. He was so calm, almost happy. His brothers lost soul had once tortured him, but seeing him then, I knew his peace had been made, and his brother could finally be a part of his life, in such a beautiful way. “I think it’s perfect, Curls. I’m happy for you.” “Can’t call me Curls anymore.” He smiled. “They’re gone.” “I guess not.” I looked back ahead of me, taking another steady sip of my drink and easing more with each passing second. I had really thought that even being around him would test me, but hearing his voice actually came as a calm, this sense of belonging, warm and welcoming. “Why… Why did you call me?” He asked nervously. To tell you I love you. To tell you I’m sorry. To tell you I missed you. To tell you I fucked up. “I got a job.” I smiled, looking back to him. “I thought… I thought you might want to know.” “You got a job?” He gawped, eyes alight. “I did.” “Ren, congratulations!” “Thank you.” I blushed. “How’s it going?” “I think it’s going well. It’s only reception work, I don’t-” “Hey,” He interrupted. “Don’t do that.” “What?” “It’s only reception work.” He mimicked kindly. “It’s a job, Ren. From the… seemingly small jobs to the big ones, they’re all important.” “You’re right. Sorry. But… I really like it, y’know? It’s simple but it’s… good. I’m still with Mo right now, because most places want three months worth of paycheques before they even consider letting you rent, but… Yeah. I just… As soon as I got the job, you were the first person I wanted to talk to. The very first. I knew you’d be… happy for me, and… I just wanted… I wanted to hear your voice.” He nodded, then took his eyes down to his lap, his fingers a little frantic as they stretched and bent and rubbed down over his thighs, as though his body was begging him to say something and his mind was fighting that instinct. He swallowed, cracking his neck a little. “How’s therapy?” He choked before he asked. “I had my last session on Wednesday.” I blushed my pride. “You’re fucking kidding me?” His eyes widened. “Are you genuinely telling me that you’ve got a job and you don’t go to therapy anymore?” “That’s what I’m telling you.” I giggled. “I… I… Fuck.” He flustered. “I can’t even word how happy I am for you.” “Same goes to you.” I returned. “Who thought we’d ever see the day?” He grinned. “Neither of us in therapy.” He didn’t know that I’d already asked Dr Jackson how he was, and I knew he’d stopped seeing her a while back, so I faked a bit of surprise, beaming brightly. “The dreams never came back?” “Not once.” He smiled. “Dr Jackson thought… maybe they’d… be inconsistent but… appear every now and then, but… I’ve gone nearly three months now without them. It’s been… lifechanging. It’s amazing. Still… can’t really wrap my head around it.” I finally let a tear fall. I’d been holding it back the entire time, and I’d genuinely fooled myself into thinking that I’d be able to stay composed throughout our conversation, but that had tipped me over the edge. I couldn’t physically hold it in. He'd come so far. The boy I’d met, no matter how wonderful, had been fighting what he felt to be a losing battle. He was struggling, and he was hurting. Being able to truly acknowledge and hear that he was doing so much better, that his life had changed in the way it had always needed to, was far too overwhelming. I hid my face, sobbing into my hands. “C’mere.” Harry sighed, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and shuffling closer to me. “Please don’t cry. It kills me.” “I’m sorry.” I blubbered. “I’m so sorry, I just… I can’t-” He pulled me in even closer, hushing me, his fingers tangling in my hair as I wept, and I think he knew I was just incredibly overwhelmed rather than upset. He deserved everything good in the world, and he finally had it, and how happy I was for him forced tears that were hard to halt. He kissed at the top of my head, and in an attempt to make me feel better, he only made me feel worse. “It’s okay, Ren.” He whispered. “I’m just… I’m so happy for you.” I pulled away from him snare just slightly, his arm still slung over my shoulder. “You’ve got everything you deserve… finally. I know you were… so strong, but… It was so hard for you, and… I’m sorry. I’m just… Urgh. I’m happy for you. I’m sorry. I can stop crying, I can… I just…” He chuckled lightly as I wiped away tears on the sleeve of my coat, his eyes on the side of my face as I pulled myself together, somehow finding the small shreds of composure that I had left. He moved his arm, the two of us unlinking once again, but sat closer together than we had been, the side of his leg warm against my own. I could feel that he was still staring at me, and I couldn’t look back. “How’re your parents?” I asked next. “They’re good. They’re really good.” He answered happily. “They’re… getting therapy, and finally opening up and accepting what’s happened. I’ve been seeing more of them, and… I dunno. In a weird way, I think… it kinda brought us closer together.” “Your family amaze me.” I shook my head. “I’m glad they’re doing better.” “I was… so angry at them, at first, but… I had to remind myself just how hard that must have been for them. It’s the kinda pain and trauma that you can’t understand. So… I’m just happy that they’re finally figuring it out. I dunno if it’s made them even more protective of me though.” He sniggered. “Cherish that.” I gulped. “It’s a good thing.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and a part of me could tell that he really wanted me to look back at him, but I found it so difficult. I knew that even looking into his eyes could send me into a strange state of panic. I was so thankful that we were finally having this moment, where we could catch up and share and find a way of being around one another, but actually facing him, gazing into his olive eyes, I would be reminded of all the tender moments we had shared together, and a life with him that I had thrown away. “How about you?” He asked after a while. “How’s Beatrice?” “She sent me her love today.” “She did fucking what?” I laughed, shaking my head as we sat bewildered together, and I loved that. Matilda had not been able to understand my stunned reaction when she told me our mother sent her love, but Harry was completely on my side. He understood it perfectly. “Weird, right?” I tittered. “Very.” “I think we’re doing good.” I shrugged. “I think it’s gunna be a slow process, because the Valentine family are not quite as wonderful as the Styles family. We’re slow learners, and we’re taking our time, but… We’ll get there, I’m sure. Just gotta start understanding each other a bit more.” “How the fuck are we both doing so well?” He laughed. I was hoping that Harry wasn’t sitting there coming to the conclusion that we were doing so well simply because we weren’t together. I had no idea how different things would be if I hadn’t left him that day, but a part of me hoped that even if we’d stayed together, we would have gone through the same challenges and come out at the same place, both doing well and neither of us in therapy, both of us working out years’ worth of issues with our families. But we would have been doing it together, a strong unit, just like we used to be. All we had ever done was support each other. We’d built a life together on that, and even though it was short, it was sweet and strong and everything I had needed my first real relationship to be. My first love to be. Harry had stepped into my life, and loved me in a way I didn’t ever expect a man to. He had shown me my worth, helped me to fix things that I hadn’t previously realised were broken. There was still a part of me, one that wasn’t so forgiving, that was so angry that I’d frantically ruined something that had been good for me. I’d really thought it was a huge step forward at the time, no matter how painful, when in reality it had been thousands of steps backwards. And there we were, two people who had grown so much together, having gone months growing separately, blooming as two individuals rather than a bunch. It was still something I was growing accustom to. “I’ve missed you.” He finally said. My whole body trembled as it welcomed the words I had been subconsciously waiting for, my heart expanding viciously within my chest. “I’ve missed you too.” My voiced cracked. “Yeah?” He seemed somewhat surprised. “Of course.” “Ren, look at me.” He asked quietly, and I turned my head, but couldn’t lift it. “Why can’t you look at me?” He sounded so upset; confused and hurt by the fact I was struggling to look him in the eye. I had to force myself to lift my head up and look at him, and when I finally did, shaking and shivering, I half expected an outpour of love to leave my lips and leave me breathless, but that didn’t happen. I was looking across to a boy that was living this new life, one that was good and kind to him. I was looking across to a boy with short hair and bright green eyes and I just knew that it wasn’t words of love that I needed to voice. “I’m so sorry.” I finally said, and suddenly it was easier to look at him. “I’m sorry for everything.” “Ren-” “Harry please just… Just let me say this.” I begged, and he nodded. “I am so fucking sorry, for… putting you through so much. My head was fucked and I… I put you through a lot, and you didn’t deserve that! I really dragged you through every up and down that I went through, and I think… I projected so much of how I was feeling onto you, and onto us, and… I either acted too late or too quickly and… I fucked up. And you were… always so kind and supportive and understanding, and I still fucked up. I need you to know how sorry I am, because I really think I’m in a better place now and… I realise how awfully I handled… everything. And I’m sorry. Because you deserve the best and I could… I could never give you that. I’m sorry.” He bit his bottom lip, his jaw clenching, and there was this strange anger radiating from him that I certainly hadn’t been expecting. My face dropped. “You done?” He asked. “Yes.” I mumbled nervously. “Don’t fucking apologise to me.” He bit, and it stung. “I chose to be there with you. I wanted… I wanted you. And I wanted us, and… if I ever didn’t, then I would have backed out. You’re not the only person with… fucking complicated feelings, Ren. That’s what a relationship is, right? It’s… figuring out who you are on your own and with someone else, too. I’m glad you feel like you’re in a better place now, but you don’t need to apologise to me for… feeling how you felt or doing what you did. Granted, it could have played out more smoothly, but all relationships are like that. There’s always gunna be good days and bad days, and… we had so many good days, Ren. More so than bad. I loved you, and what we had, and I don’t want you to feel badly about it. Any of it. I don’t wanna hear you say you’re fucking sorry, because you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” I loved you, he’d said. Loved. Past-tense. But I didn’t feel upset, because I’d expected nothing less. I think, maybe I’d wanted to hear him say that. Maybe it was the exact closure that I needed. “Well… I’m still sorry.” I fumbled. “Well I don’t accept your apology.” “Okay. Fine.” I knew he’d fire back at me, but the main thing I had wanted was to apologise to him, maybe for my own sake rather than his. I had needed to say that, and him not accepting it was predicted, and something I was okay with. But that messy apology had been on my mind for months, and I was glad to have finally vocalised it with him. He smiled to me, the wind around us fluttering through his hair, and even seeing that gorgeous smile on his face helped me to feel a little warmer. He was a welcomed heat, one that I would miss terribly. His lashes waved as he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, and it was strange that only minutes before I couldn’t bear to look at him, because I could no longer keep my eyes off him. He opened them again, looking at me as though looking into the deepest pits of my soul, understanding and accepting every single shred of my existence, and even after everything, the look in his eyes was filled with nothing but kindness. The way he looked at me in that very moment, was something I would never forget. “I should probably go.” He whispered. “Can’t keep the shop shut for too long.” “Okay.” I whispered. “But… you know where to find me, if you ever need me.” I nodded feebly, watching him get back up to his feet, a part of me wanting to stay on that park bench until it was dark so that I could fully accept and process what had just happened, the other part of me wanting to run home and sleep. Just wrap myself up and think about everything that I said, and everything that I didn’t. Shakily, I got up to my feet. I stood ahead of him, looking up at the man in front of me as he shrugged his coat on a little tighter, tall and handsome and perfect, in every single way. “I’ll make sure Matilda buys all her wedding flowers from you.” I cooed, taking one step closer to him. “Tell her I can get anything she wants.” “I will.” We went quiet, gazing onto one another, and the heat he had provided me was slowly slipping away, replaced by our cold reality. That was our first awkward silence. We’d done well. Even earlier when we hadn’t shared a word, when we first got to the park, it had never felt awkward. It felt purely calm, like the two of us were accepting the circumstances we were in, and how we were feeling. This silence, was awkward, and nothing else. I guess we didn’t know how to say goodbye to each other again. “I’m glad you came in.” He eventually blurted, running a hand through his hair. “I’m glad… I saw you. I’m glad we spoke.” “Me too.” I agreed. Awkward, again. I hated it. From the moment we met properly, we had connected, and we had been able to speak with one another like we were old friends. We had that bond, this sense of familiarity, and it was something I’d forever cherished about us. It was the only reason what we’d done over Christmas actually worked. We just functioned together so well. I hated that we were trapped in this state where neither of us knew what to say to one another. “I’m gunna go.” Harry whispered, his throat hitching and his jaw tightening. “Okay.” I whispered back. His eyes dropped, ever so slightly, and I watched as his brows knitted together. Slowly, he began raising his hand out towards me, and I kept my eyes on his face the entire time as he reached out, and pinched his fingers to the pendant around my chest, the dagger he had bought me, the symbol of strength we had shared. He smiled, the dainty object flimsy between his trembling fingers, and I could almost see our entire relationship flashing through his eyes and written upon his lips, a story worth remembering, but not worth telling. He licked over his lips, and washed those words away. “I’ll see you in another lifetime, Florence Daisy Valentine.” With that, he let the pendant go, shovelling his hands deep into his pockets, taking two steps backwards with a smile, before turning on his heel and heading back to work. I watched him walk away. I just watched him leave, stood there staring until he was completely out of sight. He glanced over his shoulders a few times during his exit, without a smile each time, maybe confused by me watching him or maybe completely understanding why I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t even move. I couldn’t cry or breathe or feel much at all. I had expected closure to feel much kinder than that.

#this was a tricky one #a lot of talking #would love to hear your thoughts #thank you for reading #TFA48 #1dff #Harry Styles

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conifertwins · 6 years

Text

Armed and Ready - 3/?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] "And that's how I earned my red belt," Marco beamed.

"My goodness! And these belts determine your rank at... at that hand dancing fighting form." Eclipsa mimed a poor imitation of a fighting stance.

"Karate."

"Right, karate." Eclipsa took Marco's hand. "You really are an amazing person, Marco."

"Well, I don't think I'd be the person I am now, if it weren't for Star," Marco shrugged. "She... she's really brought out the best in me."

Eclipsa squeezed his hand gently. "Us Butterfly women tend to do that in those for whom we care deeply."

"So...," Marco said, trying to avoid her gaze, "is that because of your magical abilities or something?"

She laughed, letting go of Marco in the process. Although she'd only held onto him for a moment, he suddenly felt adrift. He looked at her hands, thinking of grabbing hers for a moment for... comfort? Security? Control? He could feel himself getting upset, but he wasn't sure why. He was just having a pleasant conversation with... with Eclipsa. Nothing to see here. Just two people talking in the rose garden at night.

"Marco?" Eclispa was no longer laughing.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just...."

"Your arm, dear."

Marco looked down. His arm had turned purple, his fingers covered in suckers. "Oh no."

Eclipsa grabbed both of his hands. "Quick, Marco. Look in my eyes. Tell me what you're feeling."

Marco leaned back, trying to pull his hands away in the process. Eclipsa's grip was firm and surprisingly strong.

"Marco, tell me."

He closed his eyes and exhaled, feeling himself slump forward in the process. "I... I feel lost. I don't know why you want to talk to me or what we're doing here."

"Why, we're having a lovely conversation," she blinked, surprised.

"No, no... you're not listening. I don't know what we're doing here. What I'm doing here. I don't know why we're talking. Look, I'm really grateful that you did... whatever it was you did in the infirmary. I'm glad that you're so... so gracious and not some power-hungry villain...."

"Villainess," she gently corrected.

"Right. And I'm glad that you seem interested in me and Earth and all of that, but... look... ever since I came back, Star's reaction, River's reaction, the guards, everyone... I... I don't think I belong here. Maybe Tad was right. Maybe I just came here to make myself miserable."

Eclipsa sat back and crossed her legs, placing her hands primly on her knee. "How did you get here, Marco?"

"I just... you know... cut a portal and came to Mewni."

"But how did you cut a portal?"

"Oh, I have a pair of dimensional scissors."

"And how did you get those?"

"They're mine. I got them from Heckapoo."

"You... got them... from Heckapoo," she mused. "You say that like you went to the market for milk and eggs. Heckapoo has never been the type to just give anyone anything."

"Well, I earned them. It took... um, in her dimension, it took me sixteen years to get my own pair. Of course, when I came back, I was in my fourteen-year-old body again."

She uncrossed her legs and leaned in toward Marco, looking at him as though she were expecting him to sprout wings at any moment. "Let’s go over that for a second. You... a boy from Earth... won a pair of dimensional scissors from Heckapoo of the Magical High Commission by enduring sixteen years of trials and tribulations at her hand."

"I... guess?"

"Without the aid of magic?"

"Well, we don't really have magic on Earth."

"And you doubt your right to be here on Mewni?"

"It's just... it's just that...."

"Things haven't gone as you expected? You don't feel appreciated by those you love, by those with whom you felt you had a special bond?"

Marco looked into her eyes. She wasn't trying to pry or scheme or manipulate... at least, not that he could tell. He saw only concern, only care... the first real concern and care for his wellbeing that he'd encountered in his time back on Mewni. He tried to nod, but started to sob instead. Eclipsa pulled him close.

"Shhh, my dear. No need to cry." She ran her gloved fingers through his hair as he cried into her shoulder. "You are more special than you know. In fact, few Mewmans have ever won a pair of scissors from Heckapoo. Most scissors are passed down through families, generation after generation. Songs are sung about the ancestors who won them. It is... it is not a trivial feat. You are, by all accounts, exceptional."

"Sorry," he said, moving back. "I... really, I should be grateful."

"And why should you be grateful, exactly?"

"Well, Star did decide to let me stay, and she did say I could be her squire."

"Hm.” Eclipsa paused. Her face seemed relaxed, at ease, but Marco felt he could see a fire behind her eyes, growing with each moment. After what felt like minutes, she blinked, her lips spreading into a wide smile. “You know, I think your destiny calls for you to become more than a mere squire. Would you like that," she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Marco slid down to the far end of the bench. "I... I'm not... look, could you just take care of my arm again? I need to get back to my room."

"I would, but it appears you've already taken care of it yourself."

Marco held his arm up. It was normal again. No purple, no suckers... just fingers and a thumb at the end of his ordinary, unremarkable arm.

Eclipsa stood up and took his still-elevated hand in hers. "Marco, my dear, thank you for the lovely conversation. I trust you'll come see me again sometime soon." She began to walk along the path to her tower.

"Uh, sure."

She paused to turn to him. "If you do decide to visit me again, I'm out here every night at the same time. Only next time, be sure to wear some shoes. They might help with the thorns," she said with a lilt in her voice.

Marco sat for a while, looking into the sky. For a moment, he felt like he was the only still point in the universe, with everything moving around him, swirling away from his vantage point.

"What just happened," he asked, hoping he would prompt himself to answer. He waited in silence until he felt the chill of the night through his clothes. “I guess there’s only going to be one way to find out,” he grumbled, as he made his way back to the infirmary, carefully avoiding both the shadows and the thorns.

==== ====

Yvgeny sat up in surprise at the pounding on the door. His surprise turned to irritation, the moment he heard the familiar voice of his Mewman friend yelling at him.

"Buff Frog! C'mon, I need you to get up," Star yelled, stamping her feet in the swamp outside of the Bulgolyubov residence. "Don't make me use my wand," she threatened, before immediately transitioning into, "Rising Sunshine Door Destruc...."

"Stop!" Yvgeny opened the door, towering over Star in his bath robe. "No need for spell. No need to cause any more ruckus. You will wake my poor babies if you keep this up." He rubbed at his temples as he composed himself. "Why are you here at this time of night, Star Butterfly?"

"Monster magic." Star spat the words, as though they'd have some sort of effect on Buff Frog.

"Monster magic?"

"Yes! Monster magic! You know, the magic that monsters use." Star pantomimed a horned monster projecting magic from its face. "That kind of stuff."

"Why are you even asking about this sort of thing, and at this hour," he asked, incredulous at her audacity.

Star looked down into the mud that made up the floor. She stared at the swirls that seemed to slowly spin as the waters of the swamp ebbed and flowed outside.

"Marco... Marco's sick. And it's my fault. I... I think I gave him a virus. A magical virus. And there's nothing in any of the Mewman archives that can cure something of this nature. I wouldn't even be bothering you with my mess if it wasn't serious. I'm... I'm sorry for waking you up. It's just... time is of the essence, and I can't afford to lose him again." She bit her lip to regain her composure before looking up to Yvgeny. "Please, Buff Frog. I'm desperate."

Yvgeny sighed. "Monsters... don't use magic. It is not for monsters to use."

"Well, duh," Star shrugged. "Not now. But before. Before the Mewmans came. Even I've heard about the wild, dangerous, scary magic from the olden times. And I know we only have, like, one side of the story. There's gotta be, like, some secret monster history where you tell tales of brave monster warriors who dared to use forbidden magic."

Yvgeny rubbed the back of his head. "There are... there are old children's stories, but nothing else. Magic is always very bad, though, even in those. It is always used to punish other monsters, in direct emulation of evil Mewman queens."

"As a magical princess, I'm choosing to ignore that last part," Star asserted. "But you have stories, then? Do you have, like, any books about this, or do you monsters just sort of draw them on your walls or...."

"Star!"

"What? I've just... never seen any books in any monster homes."

"That is very offensive. Of course we have books." Yvegny walked to a wall in his living room, scraping away a layer of mud to reveal a large bookcase. "We keep books safe behind walks like these. Many books. Monsters are very literate. You know, monsters invented the alphabet that Mewmans...."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Do you have a book of these stories or not?" Star, bouncing with excitement, didn't notice the irritation crossing Yvgeny's face.

He grabbed a bright red hardbound book, covered in gilt flourishes and old Mewman lettering. "This is Stories of the First People. This was a gift from my grandmama," he said, looking toward the sky. "If I give you book to borrow... borrow!... you will babysit for me three weekends, yes?"

"Three weekends at any point over the next... year or so?"

"Three consecutive weekends. Next month."

Star sighed. Marco needed her. She'd really screwed up... again... and he was in danger. She had to make it right. She had to be the one to make it right. And, besides, the tadpoles were really cute. "Okay. You have a deal."

Yvgeny handed her the book. "Thank you, Star. I am sorry to hear about Karate Boy's illness. I understand your desire to protect someone you love."

Star stumbled backward. "What? Love? I mean, Marco is... is a good friend. And I want to help him. That's all."

Yvgeny rolled his eyes. "Yes, I always seek out dangerous magic to help inconvenienced friend and troubled acquaintance. Anyhow, best of luck to you." He led Star to the front door, graciously guiding her out. "Oh! Before you go, let me tell you story of magic lady who sought to help 'good friend' with magic spell."

"Okay."

"Once upon a time, magic lady sought to help friend with magic spell. Spell went bad. They both died. The end."

"That's not a very good story."

"What do you mean? It's one of the first stories in that book," he said, pointing to the book he had just handed Star. "Is very good story. Good cautionary tale. Good night," he said, closing the door.

Star narrowed her eyes. "Well, I hope the sequel is better."

#svtfoe #marco diaz #star butterfly #eclipsa #buff frog

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hellotoomuchstuffinmyhead-blog · 5 years

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TWDG Final Season AU: Fortune Favours the Bold Ch1

Hey guys, I’m new to making and sharing fanfic content. The main character is my OC I have placed in Ericson’s School for Troubled Youth. This is leaning towards my OC being closer friends with minor characters and it is a Mitch x OC ship. Will probs continue this through so enjoy!

Word count: 1722

The late spring forests had a different atmosphere from all the bricks and concrete back home. Tristen looked out the car window thinking about what this new school is like and what the other kids are like. “Sweetie, I know I have told you this before,” Tristen’s mother says sternly but with some kindness, “the kids at this new school will probably be different from the ones back home. Be careful of who you make friends with for your own good. People judge you by how you look, what you’re good at and who your friends are. It’s for the good of your own wellbeing and future.”

“Uh-huh,” Tristen sighs, “when do I get to go back home?”

“When the teachers there make you all better.”

Tristen looks down at her feet feeling slightly despondent. The rest of the car ride is silent. They finally reach the gates of Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youths. Her mother helps with getting her things to her assigned room. She is all alone, as her mother requested, in this colourless room. At least she gets a fair bit of light coming through when she draws the curtains open. She can see that her room catches the orange light from the sunset very well.

In the headmaster’s office, Tristen and her mother sat in front the man himself. Richard Ericson. His words were mostly reassurance that she’ll be ok. They walked around the school later after dinner. As they walked through, the other kids looked at Tristen as she walked on with the two adults. She ignored them. Then it was time. It was time to part with her mother. She was a busy woman and made her parting brief. Her mother left telling her to “be good.” She hears it all the time but won’t be hearing it for a while. She feels a little relief until she wonders if the adults here are like her mother.

The next day, Tristen had her first day at the school. She was mostly quiet during classes. During her free time for the day, she looked for a place to be alone to do her favourite things – baton twirling and gymnastics. It was nice to do it without her mother pushing her to be competitive and to aim to win. Some music would be nice, she thought, or maybe a proper baton rather than a stick. Her train of thought was interrupted as she spotted someone in the corner of her eye.

She turned to see who it was. It was just a small boy with light brown hair. His eyes are big and blueish-green. He stood and stared then walked closer, hands behind his back, to get a closer look. Tristen just stared back and blinked a few times. She smiled at him. “Hi…” the little boy said shyly before running away. Tristen looked a little confused then looks down a little sad. She tries to stay away from others so they wouldn’t ask her why she is here but she really does want friends. She shook the thought away and made way to her next class.

It was lunchtime now. Tristen didn’t eat much. She just wanted to walk around as she sat down so much during classes. “Ow! Don’t!” yelled a high pitched voice. She saw the small boy that was staring at her previously. He was being picked on by a much bigger boy. She was scared to interfere but couldn’t stand to ignore or walk away from the poor boy. She takes a big breath and marches to the boys. “Leave him alone you big, fat bully!” she cried shielding the small boy. He whimpered and hid behind her. The larger child just glared at her and reaches for her. Tristen is pulled away by the small boy behind her.

The larger child looks frustrated, lunges forward and quickly grabs one of Tristen pigtails. She yells in pain and falls to the ground. “Cut that out, asshole!” yelled a huskier voice. Tristen looks up at as a child the same size as herself leaps forward and punches the larger child. The bully fell back and the boy who threw the punch gritted his teeth angrily at him. He had side swept brown hair, freckles and light green eyes. The bully gets up, curses at the boy and continues the brawl. The freckled boy holds up well until the teachers came running to break the fight. The two rowdy boys were taken away. “Umm, thank you for saving me,” a small voice says. Tristen almost forgot about the small boy behind her. “Oh! You’re welcome,” she smiled, “Could you tell me your name?”

“Willy,” the small boy says shyly, “What about you?”

“I’m Tristen”

“Huh? I thought that’s a boy’s name,” Willy says confused. Tristen sighs and replies, “That’s what a lot of people say.”

When all of the classes for the day were done, Tristen headed for the library wanting to read something. Science? Nah too boring, she thought. Fairy tale? Yeah I love those, she thought. She liked reading the ones about the princesses falling in love. She read through Beauty and the Beast but thought it was a little too easy as she already read this story many times. “Too easy?” Tristen looked up to see a boy carrying books to the same desk she sat at. He is of Indian decent, had short black hair and looked a little older than the freckled boy from before. “Sorry, I don’t see others hanging around here often at this time,” he said, “You’re the new girl. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Tristen.”

“Ah, I knew it was something like that.”

“It is because it’s normally a boy’s name?” Tristen frowned.

“No,” Aasim replied, “It just reminded me of a book and now I can actually remember its name. Tristan and Iseult.”

“What kind of story is that?”

“It’s about a British knight who falls in love with an Irish princess.”

“Those are my favourite kinds of stories,” Tristen looks interested.

“Really? I thought so seeing that pile next to you. Cinderella. The Little Mermaid. Rapunzel. Hold on, let me go find it,” Aasim left briefly and returned with the book. Tristen has a bit of difficulty but Aasim helps her along as they enjoy the book. “Thank you for showing me that and helping me read better,” Tristen quietly exclaims.

“No problem. You should try reading the harder books. They are way more interesting.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“There you are!” exclaims a loud high pitched voice.

“Shush. It’s a library,” says another voice.

Tristen sees Willy running towards her. Behind him are two boys: the freckled one in the fight who now has a bruise on the side of his head and the other is a shorter, pudgier boy with frizzy hair and dark skin. Willy sits next to Tristen and tugs at her sleeve. “See! She’s the pretty one that saved me!” Willy says excitedly.

“Willy, don’t just grab people like that,” the pudgy boy tells Willy nicely. He stops and apologises whilst Tristen says it is okay and nervously smiles. “Thanks for helping Willy,” says the freckled boy who then turns to Aasim, “Back to business. Are you going to help us, nerd?” The pudgier boy shakes his head whilst Aasim rolls his eyes. “This is Mitch and I’m Omar,” he says to Tristen, “Nice to meet you and thanks for helping out Willy.”

They settled at the table and Aasim helps Mitch and Omar with their work. Tristen and Willy are reading Peter Pan together. When the boys finish up, Mitch finally looks directly at Tristen and say, “Hi, uh, can we all hang out together now?” he asks in a nervous manner. She nods happily.

The kids sit around the table and Mitch starts by asking, “How old are you? Where you from?”

“I’m going to be 9 tomorrow and I’m from Washington DC,” Tristen replies.

“Your birthday’s tomorrow?!” Willy chimes and looks at Mitch, “We gotta have a party for her, Mitch!”

“We’ll think of something, lil dude but not a party,” Mitch tells Willy kindly.

“You were left here just before your birthday? Your own mother would do that?” says Omar.

“It’s not a big deal. Just another day to my parents,” Tristen says with a sense of falsehood.

“What’s your family like?”

“They’re okay I guess. Mum is really concerned about when I grow up. She wants me to be competitive and be fussy with who I’m friends with. It isn’t fun. I have a step dad who doesn’t really talk to me much. My step brother is really nice to me though. When he isn’t helping my step dad with his food truck, he spends time with me. Sometimes he is with this other boy he is really close with, he’s lots of fun too. They are the only two that do fun stuff on birthdays,” Tristen recalls fondly.

“At least you’ve had SOME fun in your life,” says Mitch.

“Why are you here?” Willy asks excitedly. Tristen goes silent and looks sad again. “Come on you can tell us! I was sent here for chron-,” Willy was cut off by Aasim who told him to leave her alone and that she didn’t have to answer. Mitch got Willy to settle down. “I think I’ll go to my room now. I’m sleepy,” Tristen says as she get ups up and walks to the dorms.

At the dorms, Tristen was about to reach he room when she suddenly heard Mitch call out her name. “Hey, I’m sorry about Willy. He can say stupid things sometimes. Could we hang out more? You can have fun with us and not worry about the things that made you sad before,” he tells her in a friendly tone.

“Yeah, you guys are lots of fun! I’ve never really talked much to other kids because my mum wouldn’t let me,” Tristen says gleefully.

“She isn’t here so fuck being worried or being told what to do! We’re going to be partners in crime!”

“Hehe… I like how you’re really brave. Like the princes in the fairy tales but you’re kinda funnier,” Tristen giggles. Mitch blushes at her remark. “Well uh goodnight,’ he says with a little embarrassment.

“Good night, Mitch.”

#twdg #twdg au #twdg final season #twdg oc #twdg fanfic #twdg season 4 #twdg s4 #twdg willy #twdg mitch #twdg omar #twdg aasim #twdg ericsons

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livinglike-itssummer · 7 years

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Mornings, am I right?

No one likes getting up in the morning, it’s a fact. And really, why would you? There’s nothing glamorous about it. There’s nothing pleasurable about the slow build from grogginess to wakefulness that could take minutes to hours to go through. Every morning is accompanied with a bad taste in your mouth, sleep in your eye, and finding the new aches and pains that come from sleeping the wrong way on a bad mattress - or the unbearable knowledge of having to part from the comfort of a good one. Mornings, although beautiful in theory, are a pain in practice and it’s probably fair for everyone to be entitled to a little bit of grumpiness.

What’s unfair, and downright terrifying at times, are those who believe they are entitled to possible murder. Castiel was one of those people.

On more than one occasion, Castiel had woken up in a bad mood. To the point where surrounding people - roommates, friends, family - had been scared for their wellbeing. It was a known fact that Castiel was somewhat of an ‘untouchable’ in the morning, even when he got up in his own time, and protection and mercy was wished upon those who were unfortunate enough to have to be the ones to wake him up before he was ready. He had broken twelve alarm clocks in his life so far and no one was too keen on taking up that position. Least of all his brother Gabriel who had been punched more times than he’d care to discuss. When Castiel got up in the morning, households came to standstills and the world around him fell to a deathlike silence. No one was sure what noise or action could set him off and no one was dumb enough to want to find out. Castiel was scary in the mornings. Castiel could kill you in the morning. Which was why people were more than concerned for the life of Dean Winchester.

Dean came into Castiel’s life as his first serious relationship - which was a classy way of saying “Castiel’s virginity taker” - and was loved by not only Castiel but by those who were closest in his life. That’s where the concern came in. Dean and Castiel had just announced to their families that they had decided to move in together and while Dean’s family was ecstatic, Castiel’s was fearful for Dean’s life.

“Dean-o!” Gabriel grinned as he threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, guiding him away from the large group of people and into a more secluded area. “Moving in with my baby brother, huh? Well that’s big stuff!”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said with a shy smile, “we’ve been dating for long enough, I figure it’s time. And, you know, I never get to go to sleep next to Castiel because I have such an early shift at the garage I’m…. I’m always gone before morning comes and I just want to finally have that ‘waking up next to the one you love’ experience.” He looked over at Gabriel and rolled his eyes. “I know it sounds stupid-”

“Sure does. Why on earth would you want to do that?”

Dean frowned and pulled himself out from under Gabriel’s arm. “What?”

“All I’m saying is that you and Cassie have a good thing going now! Why would you want to ruin that by being so close to each other all the time, I mean, blegh! Just, ew, right?” Gabriel shuddered. “It’s like ‘oh I’m home and you’re there’ or-or ‘I want to poop and- whoa! Hey! You’re there’ or just ‘you know I want to walk around the house naked and-oh! Oh, God! I- There you are!’ Just- Yeck!” Gabriel mimicked the action of aggressively wiping gunk off his arms and shook his head. “You don’t want that!”

“Uh, actually I do,” Dean chuckled. “And, not to make this weird, but I doubt Castiel would have a problem with me walking around the house naked.”

Gabriel approached Dean suddenly and grabbed his arms causing him to jump and look fearfully into Gabriel’s eyes. “You can’t do this, man.”

“What the hell’s your problem?!”

“You can’t move in with Castiel, alright? If you love him, you won’t do this!”

“That’s like the opposite-”

“No! No, because if you do this you- Dean, you won’t love him anymore, okay? Believe me, I’ve gotten close to that point! You have to tell him you can’t! You have to tell him you think you two are moving too fast. Dean, you have to stop this!”

“What are you freaking out about?! You’re scaring the crap out of me!”

“Castiel gets bad in the morning,” he whispered harshly.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “What, like…grumpy? Gabe, I think everyone is a little grumpy in the mornings.”

Gabriel bowed his head and shook it slightly before looking back up at Dean. “No, you don’t understand. Cas- In the mornings he’s…. He becomes someone else. He becomes something else.”

Dean looked down into Gabriel bright, brown eyes and swallowed nervously. “Uh…huh. W-Well, uh,” he continued as he gently pried Gabriel’s hands from his arms, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, alright?”

“What? Dean-”

“Listen, I’m just going to go back in there,” he gestured to the living room, “and continue with the celebration while you calm down.”

“You’re not listening to me, Dean! You-”

“I’ll see you later, Gabriel,” he said before quickly leaving the room.

Gabriel stared at the spot he had vacated and let out a short and bitter laugh. “Fine. Go on and live with him. You’ll see. My God, will you see.”

Dean slowly came to on a lovely Saturday morning. He yawned softly and stretched his body out as he rubbed at his eyes and turned over on his side, smiling at the sight of messy, black hair that met his eyes. It was the first time he was waking up in his apartment with Castiel by his side and the feeling of content that filled his chest was one he had never experienced. Dean moved closer to Castiel until he was pressed up against his back and wrapped an arm around his waist. He kissed the back of his head before moving down to his neck and back up again to kiss his cheek. He continued to pepper him with kisses until Castiel started to stir.

“Mm,” Dean mumbled and kissed him again, “good mor-”

“Get. Off. Of me,” Castiel growled back and Dean’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

“What? Is it my breath?”

Castiel sighed heavily and pushed his arm against Dean until he was away from him then proceeded to draw the covers up to his chin.

Dean, although a little thrown off, smiled and moved over to Castiel again before pulling the covers back and kissing his neck. “Come on, I have today off,” he mumbled. “Let’s make the morning a good one.” He trailed one hand under the covers and down Castiel’s leg but before he could get anywhere good Castiel snatched his hand up, threw it against him, and once again pulled the covers up to his chin. “Cas?” There was no response. “Hey, what’s your problem, man?” Dean grumbled and shoved him. Castiel remained silent and, of course, that only added to Dean’s aggravation. “Dude!”

Castiel shot up suddenly and rounded on Dean, his eyes dark, hair ruffled, and jaw set. “It. Is. Ten. AM,” He growled out through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I know! Rise and fucking shi-”

“No. No, because you see, I’m tired. I’m very tired, Dean, and I do not get up at ten. I do not get up until my body is ready to get up, and even then, I don’t like to get up. So when you wake me up - with, yes by the way, horrible breath - I get just the teensiest bit agitated. So, if you don’t mind, shut up and leave me the hell alone so I CAN SLEEP!” Castiel fell back against the mattress and pulled the covers up over his head leaving a very confused - and slightly terrified - Dean sitting in the bed next to him.

Dean figured Castiel must’ve had a bad night and decided to let the small argument go and hope for something better tomorrow. Dean got up before the crack of dawn due to his job schedule and made sure to be quiet while he got ready. Before he left for the day he made sure to go into his and Castiel’s room and gently press a kiss to Castiel’s cheek.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he whispered. “I’ll miss you and-”

“Oh my GOD!” Castiel screamed and Dean jumped back as Castiel turned over and pulled the covers over himself. Dean was shocked but didn’t think much of it. The sun wasn’t even up yet, he’d probably be cranky if someone woke him up that early too.

As their time living under the same roof went on, Dean had been yelled at, elbowed, hit with a pillow, punched in the arm, thrown out of the room, and more. They even had to replace the alarm clock Dean owned. It didn’t take long for him to realize just what Gabriel had been trying to warn him about. Castiel was a monster in the mornings. And not in the way Dean had hoped he would be.

As he laid in bed one morning, contemplating just what to do about the situation concerning his boyfriend’s morning alter ego, Castiel started to stir and Dean felt himself freeze up. He was positive he didn’t even let himself breathe for fear it would be too loud. Slowly, Castiel’s eyes pulled themselves open and moved along Dean’s body until they landed on his. Dean offered Castiel a hesitant smile and the latter of the two actually glared before rubbing at his eyes and slowly sitting up in bed. Dean watched as Castiel stretched, scratched the back of his head and slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom before slamming the door shut and turning on the sink. A few minutes later he reemerged with a fresher looking face and shot Dean a look - one that made Dean’s skin crawl - before going into the kitchen. Dean heard the familiar sound of brewing coffee and while he definitely could use a mug, he didn’t dare move from the bed. God forbid he walk out there the wrong way and Castiel dumped the pot of hot coffee over his head. No. No, he was perfectly fine just lying in bed. The bed was safe. The bed was warm. He liked the bed, it wasn’t scary. Unlike the thing lurking in his kitchen at the moment. It wasn’t long before Castiel was making his way back into the bedroom and Dean’s jaw almost dropped at how different he looked. His eyes were soft and his cheeks pink with color. There was the slightest hint of a smile on his lips as he took a small sip from his mug before setting it down on his nightstand.

“Good morning, Dean,” he smiled before getting back into the bed and pressing his lips against his boyfriend’s in a long and lingering kiss.

Dean barely responded back to it, his eyes blown wide in confusion.

“How’d you sleep,” Castiel murmured against him.

“Uh…. F-Fine. I guess?”

“Mmhm,” Castiel breathed out as he straddled Dean’s waist. “You have any good dreams?”

“Not that I can remember,” he replied as Castiel started kissing his neck.

“No? Well, I had a pretty interesting one about you.”

“Oh? Yo-You want to tell me about it?”

Castiel smiled against Dean’s skin before pulling away and gently nipping Dean’s bottom lip with his teeth. “I think it’d be more fun if I showed you.”

So it took Castiel a couple minutes to be civil in the morning? Big deal, right? Dean could let bygones be bygones! Forgive and forget, that was his motto! And Dean could definitely be patient if this was going to be the reward. He would wait eons if it meant Castiel was going to worship his body like this whenever he got a day off. In fact, Dean was so overwhelmed by Castiel’s generosity that day that he got in his head the idea that he should return the favor. It was a fine idea and one that Dean’s sweet heart couldn’t pass up. It was an idea that he acted on two days after he had received his favor from Castiel. It was an idea that excited him as he pulled the covers down from a sleeping Castiel’s waist. It was an idea that had Castiel moaning and whimpering in his sleep. It was an idea that had Castiel screaming and cursing when he was awake. And, once again, not in the way Dean wanted. It was an idea that nearly cost Dean his life.

“I don’t get it,” Dean whined at lunch months after he had been living with Castiel. He, along with Sam, Gabriel, and Castiel, had agreed to go out to lunch for a long overdue brotherly catch up. Sam had suggested breakfast but that notion was quickly shot down by both Gabriel and Dean before it even had the chance to see the light of day. “I mean, how can someone be so horrible in the morning?” Gabriel turned his attention away from sticking his finger in Sam’s ear and looked over at Dean with a heavy sigh. Castiel was currently in the bathroom and Dean had taken the moment to shed his complaints on his brother and friend. “And someone who is so perfect in every other aspect on top of that! It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Look, Dean, some people get testy in the heat, some in the cold. Castiel just happens to get testy between the hours of three and eleven fifty nine AM! You just have to let it go and learn how to deal with it. If I could handle it for fifteen years you should be able to do it for the rest of your life!”

“Is it really that bad, Dean?” Sam asked and swatted Gabriel’s hand away from him.

“He punched me in my tenders, Sam!” Dean hissed. “And all I did to him was push his hair out of his face!”

“Maybe stop touching him then.”

“Maybe stop touching him then,” Dean mimicked much to Sam’s dismay.

Gabriel smiled at Dean and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. Just accept the fact that you’ve fallen in love with Castiel and his demonic pre-noon entity comes with the package. I mean, isn’t the saying “for better or worse?”

“We’re not married.”

“Not yet.”

Dean groaned and sat forward with his head in his hands. There had to be another way. Maybe Castiel could start taking some medicine that made him happy in the morning. They made that right? Twenty-four seven marijuana doses should suffice that need if over the counter prescriptions weren’t available. Maybe he could tell Castiel that he read a study about people who are happy in the morning generally live longer. That would change someone’s attitude right? It would’ve worked on him, that’s for sure. Or maybe he could lie and say that mornings were hard for him too and they made him so upset he cried and the only thing that could cure that would be seeing a happy Castiel!

‘Wow, that’s lame,’ he thought with a sigh.

“Dude!” Sam yelled and Dean heard the familiar sound of him slapping Gabriel’s hand away. “Seriously? Stop it!”

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you make me, Jolly Green?”

Dean sat up suddenly then and the men sitting opposite him looked over. “That’s it!”

“That’s what, Dean?” Sam asked.

“I’ll make Castiel love mornings! I’ll do something in the morning that he can’t resist and it’ll just make him love the idea of morning!”

Gabriel and Sam stared at Dean for a long moment before the former of the two burst out laughing. Gabriel slammed his hands against the table and threw his head back in glee as Sam sighed and softly shook his head. Dean frowned at both of their reactions but didn’t let them bother him. He’d make Castiel like mornings. He’d prove them wrong.

All he had to do was think of something good.

Castiel’s eyes slowly opened at the sound of a pan clattering in the kitchen followed by the loud cursing of his boyfriend. God, he loved that man but there were times when murder seemed like an understandable crime. He raised his eyes to the clock by his nightstand and saw that the red numbers displayed the time 7:36. Castiel whined and pulled the covers over his head before burrowing deeper into the mattress. Another clang of pans sounded from the kitchen and Dean screamed once more, this string of profanities longer than the last. Castiel threw the covers off of his body before rolling out of the bed and stalking over to their bedroom door. He flung it open with such a force that it hit the wall behind it and, no doubt, left a sizeable dent in the drywall. He continued down the short hallway before turning into the kitchen and letting his eyes settle on the man that was causing him great distress. He didn’t care to pay attention to the abundance of sunflowers or the fluffy pancakes. He didn’t look twice in the direction of the heart shaped eggs or the freshly brewed coffee. All of his attention was on the person by the stove, dressed in his pajamas, humming some soft tune as he threw bacon into the pan.

“Dean.”

He looked over and his eyes widened before he quickly abandoned the bacon and moved to stand before Castiel.

“You’re awake,” he whispered and swallowed. “Uh-”

“What in the hell-”

“Wait, wait just let me talk, alright? Let me- Let me do this, okay?” Dean reached into the pocket of his pajama pants and lowered himself onto one knee. He took in a deep breath before pulling out a small velvet box and popping the top to reveal a silver wedding band. “Cas-”

Castiel, without any shame, began sobbing.

“Hey,” Dean said with a watery laugh, “wait for me to get the speech down first, alright? I won’t be able to get through it otherwi-”

“I’m so tired!” Castiel cried and Dean’s smile immediately fell. “Dean, I’m tired!” he sobbed and moved his hands up to his eyes. “I just want to sleep! I just want to go to bed and you’re proposing! Why are you proposing at SEVEN THIRTY SIX IN THE MORNING?!” Castiel screamed before he continued sobbing.

Dean looked down at the ring and then up at Castiel before raising a hand in a calming gesture. “No. No, no, see this wasn’t- You were supposed to start loving mornings! This was supposed to make you happy in the morning and-”

“I don’t want to be happy in the morning, Dean! It’s the morning! It sucks!”

“But-”

“I just want to sleep in the morning, Dean! I just-I-I-” Castiel cried some more before somewhat composing himself and carrying on. “I love you but you really make me want to kill you sometimes,” he sobbed and Dean’s shoulders slumped forward. “Why do you want me to kill you? I don’t want to-to do that! I- I just want to sleep.” He sniffled and wiped under his nose before looking down at Dean. “Ok-Okay? Can I just sleep? I’m going to sleep.” He turned away from Dean and shuffled back into the hallway.

Dean sighed and felt his frown deepen as his heart became heavy. He stared down at the ring and mumbled, “So much for that,” before pushing himself to his feet and walking back over to the stove to move the bacon. He switched it off and turned back around only to be met with the sight of Castiel standing just behind him. He jumped and fell back against the stove before rolling his eyes. “Jesus, Cas! You scared the shit-”

“You were proposing?” he asked with wide and tired eyes.

Dean sighed and shrugged. “I mean, yeah! Yeah I-”

Castiel placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face and gently pushed his lips against his. Dean’s eyes fell shut and he kissed Castiel back with just as much tenderness before Castiel pulled away. “Yes,” he breathed against Dean’s lips.

“Yes?” Dean asked in disbelief.

Castiel smiled and bit his bottom lip before nodding. “Yes. Now give me my ring so I can go back to sleep.”

Mornings are rough. They pull you from the wonder of the subconscious into the hardships of the conscious. They have no mercy on those unfortunate enough to encounter them and don’t care enough to listen to complaints and upsets nor joys and praises. Mornings are cruel and unfair and downright nasty. They are not there to bring serenity or good wishes. They are not there to make the day any better.

Not every morning at least.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #grumpy cas #Castiel #Dean Winchester #Supernatural #Summer writes #FOR GRACIE!!!

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