#those last like a week or two and are heavily supervised

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄOur Betaꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Omegaverse Au

❦After saving her omegan boss and coworkers, Y/n is ordered to stay on watch because of their induced heat by traitors. Because she’s a beta she is the most trusted candidate. Who knew it would turn out like this?❦

Sano Manjiro, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Press the link for part two!!

Part Two

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Beta

Being an executive for Bonten has its pros as well as its cons. The materialism and connections bring limitless pleasures when one is into that kind of thing. Cons being the risk of either getting caught by the police or killed by the hands of one’s enemies.

Everyone is at some kind of risk. Luckily, Y/n being one of the new executives results in her staying in Bonten’s headquarters most of the time. Usually working under Kokonoi as he supervises their finances. She helps with paperwork and takes on more of a secretary role, though being able to see every confidential file under the name ‘executive.’

Unfortunately, considering the only betas of the group being her and Koko; Takeomi, Mochi, and Kakucho being alphas, her and her supervisor had to complete a quick rescue mission for the omegas of the group who had been forced into an induced heat by a group of traitors, as well as including some of the betas and omegas from their security to help rescue them. Which brings them to this moment in the car full of whining omegas.

The thick smell of pheromones and slick fills their senses as Koko speeds down the road and Y/n eyes the window in the passenger seat. The men in the back damn near naked as they use part of their own clothing as a way to make small nests, eyebrows furrowed as sweat falls with their hands desperately pumping themselves.

“F-fuck, it hurts!” Rin exclaims as he viciously rubs his cock, desperate for a release.

“How long do heats usually last when they’re induced by a drug?” Y/n questions Koko. He shrugs.

“It could vary. A normal heat lasts at least a few days whereas, depending on the drug, could be a full week or more. Maybe even less.”

Mikey leans his head back as he lifts his legs more, gaining better access as he uses his slick as a lube before plunging his fingers into his anus, rubbing his cock at the same time as he breathes heavily out of his mouth.

“How are we going to get them out of the car? They can’t go out like that, they’d kill us once they're back.” She says.

“They don’t really have a choice. They can thank us for saving them before those cretins could rape them. Also, I have things I need to do so you will help the security team bring them in and you’ll be on watch.”

“Shit.” Sanzu whimpers as tears fall from his eyes, seeking to fill and be full as his fingers vigorously go in and out of his ass, his cock pulsating as he jerks it.

“Me?!” She exclaims. Koko side glances.

“Who else? The other executives are alphas and as I said before, I’m too busy. We have to take over considering this is an unexpected circumstance. Boss isn’t in his right mind. Nobody else is trusted enough to stay on watch, though the guards will be right outside the door.”

Ran bites his lip as his eyes lazily drift to his cock, thrusting his hips into his hand as he tries to keep as much control as possible, failing miserably as his body continues to heat up, blood drawing from his lip. All of the omega’s eyes are hazy as they work themselves up.

Once Kokonoi drives up, he parks in front of the lobby of the shared estate. They all have their own individual homes but this was the easiest decision. They have their individual rooms anyway, but Y/n was informed to take them to Mikey’s master bedroom considering it is spacious along with the huge bed the omegas will share since they should stay together considering the lack of chosen alphas. The men were carried to the designated room as Y/n follows, Koko already gone in the car.

As they were placed on the bed, they began to scrunch the blankets and clothes as nests, fully laying in their bare forms as they tried to orgasm. The air is thick as their scents fill the room, fumes would be seen flying in the air if possible. When Y/n begins to walk out, a voice calls out to her.

“Y/n! Com… come ere’!”

She turns and walks toward Sanzu who called her from the side of the bed farthest from the door. When she stands over him, he grabs the top of her suit and pulls her over, causing her to bend as he crushes his lips against her. She immediately tries to pull back, failing as he gives an ungodly grip to the back of her neck, holding her in place.

Her eyes widen as she finally pulls away.

“S-Sanzu! You can’t…!”

“B-beta! Touch me!” He demands, sitting up as he snatches her suit jacket, forcing her on top of his naked body. She gasps as she tries to release herself as he pulls her hips down on his erection, thrusting his hips.

“Goddamnit! S-Sanzu, stop!”

Her jacket is pulled off behind her by another culprit as Sanzu rips her blouse, revealing her bra. Hands slide up her stomach, reaching her breasts as they cup them. She leans her head to see who’s grabbing her from behind as kisses and licks are placed against her ear and neck.

“Ran! No!” She yells, only for him to shove her upper body over Sanzu, gripping her pants as he tears them apart. He continues to tear down her pants legs as she struggles against Sanzu’s wrapped arm around her waist. Mikey and Rin watch as they continue to please themselves, moaning and breathing heavily in desperation.

“GUARDS!” She screams desperately. The door slams open as they look in surprise, covering their noses.

Mikey sits up and glares at them with his piercing, black eyes causing them all to flinch.

“If you interfere, I’ll kill all of you as your loved ones watch.” He threatens. Y/n gasps as they all rush out of the room.

“Beta.” He catches her attention considering he’s still her boss. He motions for her to get closer, ignoring Sanzu and Ran assaulting her body.

“Come here Beta.” He growls. She immediately pushes herself away from the two as they allow her to move, holding back to obey their boss’s wishes. Her eyes widen when the pale man pulls his legs up.

“F-fuck me. Fuck me right now.” His voice slightly trembles as the pain becomes unbearable.

“M- Boss, I-I can’t do that.”

“I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t shove your fingers inside of me.” He glares. A grip tightens around her neck as she’s pulled back into a chest.

“You better listen, Beta.” Rin whispers, squeezing harder.

“B-but you’re only in heat! I can’t take advantage of that and I’m not even an alph-!” She shrieks as her shoulder is bitten roughly, blood dripping down as the hold on her neck tightens even more. Mascara runs down her face as tears fall from the pain, her face scrunched before she’s released.

She finally uses two of her shaking fingers to gather slick before slowly pushing into her boss’s anus, hoping to not trigger pain to save herself from getting threatened anymore. She thrusts her fingers back and forth steadily as the tip of her fingers reach the spot that causes his body to jolt as he thrust his hips.

“Ah! Yes, Beta just like that!” Mikey moans as his head falls back with his mouth slightly open. As she’s bent over, Rin tears her panties off as Ran shreds her bra. Sanzu forces her head to Mikey’s cock.

“Suck it, Beta. Pleasure your king.” His piercing gaze boring into her eyes as he shoves her head down, Y/n resisting by pulling back as she stops her hand movement.

“That’s too much, Sanzu. I can’t.” She whimpers as she feels Rin’s tongue enter her pussy, his hands pulling on her thighs as he pulls her over his face, the back of his head hitting the mattress under her.

“Guys, please! Wait!” She cries as Ran sticks two wet fingers into her asshole.

“I’ve never seen such a slutty beta. Bent over on all fours, so wet for omegas in heat.” His raspy voice states, thrusting his fingers as Rin sucks her clit. A hand grabs her head as it pulls her forward, dark eyes staring into her gaze.

“Do it, Y/n.” Sanzu states. “Boss won’t have to kill you if I get to you first.”

She continues her movement as she eases her mouth on Mikey’s head, attempting to go slow until he thrusts into her mouth. Sanzu’s hold tightens, some of his fingers falling to grip the back of her neck as he holds her head in place while his king thrusts relentlessly into her mouth. She gags as she’s forced to breathe from her nose, saliva and slick falling from her mouth as she thrusts her fingers into his hole. Ran accelerates his thrusting as his fingers hit her walls, Rin continues to suck and lick her clit as his fingers enter her vagina, immediately thrusting fast after he finds her g-spot.

Her body convulses as her legs tremble, all the sensations of her body being used for enjoyment overwhelming her as she shuts her eyes. Tears continue to fall at the pain in her throat, slightly gurgling as she’s drowning with semen. She opens her eyes to Sanzu staring intently at her, watching her pleasure their boss who’s moaning and whimpering as he violently thrusts his hips in need.

Ran climbs over Rin’s body as he replaces his fingers with his throbbing cock, groaning as he pulls her all the way to his base. She clenches in pain, the pleasure of her pussy being eaten and fingered causing a conflicted feel as her asshole is stretched to fit his girth.

With one last thrust, Mikey’s body convulses as he moans out her name, releasing into her mouth as Sanzu forces her to swallow it while biting his lip with a smirk. Breathing heavily before it steadies, their boss falls into a deep slumber. Ran and Sanzu smile as Sanzu gently moves Mikey to the side. She grips the sheets as Rin pushes himself up to where their faces meet.

Without any warning, Rin pushes himself inside of her. She grunts as her face falls onto his shoulder, only for her face to be grabbed and propped up.

“You’re not done, Beta.”

Sanzu shoves his cock into her mouth, holding her head as she’s plummeted by the brothers, roughly. All of her holes are filled as she’s forced into being bitched.

“You look like an omega, Y/n. So full of our cocks, ready to be bred.” Rin taunts as he grabs her neck.

Heavy breathing and moans filled the air followed by Y/n’s occasional grunts and wails as she’s fucked relentlessly by her dangerous coworkers. They become sloppy with their movements as the thrusts harden, followed by grunts and whines from the omegas.

“F-fuck Beta, s’ good!” Ran almost whimpers as he tightens his grip, red hue on his face as he leans over to wrap his arms around her, rubbing his face against her back as his usual neat hair is unkempt, falling over his face.

Rin’s face curls as he thrusts, squelching sounds coming from all of her holes. He stares at her scrunched up face as she’s face fucked. He slightly sits up to leave nurturing kisses on her bruised neck, sucking as his omegan comforts her. He grabs her breasts and gently rubs her nipples.

Sanzu stares at her watery eyes with his own hazy blue orbs, breathing heavily as he’s mesmerized by the tired look on her face.

“My pretty beta. Good Beta, good.” He praises as he pets her head.

Finally, both of the brothers release deep inside of her with two strong thrusts as Sanzu orgasms deep into her throat. She reaches her own release as the pressure builds, her body convulsing as well as trembling. She falls weakly on the Haitani as she breathes heavily, almost crying from joy as it is all over, for now at least.

They all shift as they use the torn clothes for nesting as they bury themselves into each other, including a sleeping Mikey. They all fall into a deep slumber.

The induced heat ended up lasting a week. On the last day, after he was informed by the guards, Kokonoi knocked on the door. Once he heard the, “Come in,” he turned the knob and walked into a messy room. His eyes widened when he saw Y/n, sleeping as she’s sprawled out on the bed naked, wet, and worn out. The omega men were dressing themselves as they normally would, seemingly unbothered by the knocked out woman.

“B-boss?” Koko questions. Mikey just ignores him as he sits on the foot of the bed. He dismisses the rest of them, the men walking out with one last look at Y/n. When it was just Koko and Mikey, he walked toward him.

“Her job title has changed. Chain her if you have to because she’s not leaving this room. All of the executives except the alphas are permitted to enter. Guards stay outside this door at all times.”

Once he walks out of the room, he stops and turns back to Koko.

“Get her on a schedule to be cleaned.”

Kokonoi could only stare in shock as his boss walked away like nothing crazy had happened. He turned back to look at the woman once more before shaking his head. He walks toward her and taps her head, her eyelids barely opening as she eyes him with a blurry vision.

“K-koko? P-please get me out of here.” She murmurs before falling back into slumber.

“I apologize, Y/n. I was not expecting this to happen. I guess we should prepare, hm?”

#yandere #yandere x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev smut #bonten #bonten x reader #sano mikey manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #rin haitani #rin x reader #ran haitani #ran x reader #haitani brothers #omegaverse #omegaverse au #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #yandere tokyo revengers

[whohatessand]

No obligation whatsoever but this literally popped into my head as I read your prompt post (because at the same time my cat was trying to squeeze into my lap beneath the table): Obi-Wan gets a pet and tries to hide it from Anakin (but he is very bad at hiding it).

Hope you enjoy whatever it is you decide to write!

This isn't very long, but your prompt was soooo cute! Thank you so much for sending it and I hope you like it!

I have not written any fic in two years so guys please go easy on me.

If you asked Anakin, he would have told you he lost his kriffing mind. 

The 501st was lucky enough to finish their lengthy battle earlier than expected—well, a little bit of luck and a whole lot of strategy—which meant Anakin had the luxury of temporarily returning to the Jedi Temple. Coruscant was home to many things; his quarter in Jedi Temple, Dex’s diner, (underground speeder races,) and whenever his timing was fortunate enough, Obi-Wan. 

He hoped now would be one of those fortunate times.

As soon as his battalion returned to Coruscant, he bid his proper greetings and rushed home to their shared quarters in the Temple. The rumor was Obi-Wan’s men had returned late last week, Anakin could only hope their timing lined up perfectly this time around.

But before Anakin could even complete a proper search through their quarters, he found himself staring straight at a strange loth-cat in the middle of their living space. The cat was small and auburn, a color that reminded him solely of Obi-Wan’s hair, and it sat upon their kitchen counter like it belonged there. 

Huh.

“Uh, Obi-Wan?” Anakin called out from the living room, eyes stuck upon the cat in intrigue. 

“Anakin?” The Jedi Master sounded equal parts surprised and excited as he popped out of his room in a hurry, patting the wrinkles from his tunic. “I had no idea you were coming back so soon.” 

“We finished early,” Anakin glanced back and forth between Obi-Wan and the loth-cat, wondering why his Master didn’t seem to be reacting at all. “There’s a... loth-cat in the living room.” 

A beat of awkward silence passed before Obi-Wan nodded. 

“Yes, there is a loth-cat in the living. Astute observation, Anakin.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes fondly. Obi-Wan always had a way of answering his questions without ever really answering his questions, didn't he?

“But why is there a cat in here? Did you adopt a pet?” It wasn’t like Obi-Wan to come home with a loth-cat, but war was taxing and maybe even Jedi Masters need a buddy sometimes. Anakin supposed he understood the appeal.

“Well, I think to say he adopted me would seem a bit more accurate.” Obi-Wan stroked a hand across his auburn beard as he explained. “He followed me home a few days ago, and I must admit, I didn’t have the heart to shoo him off.” 

Fair. If he was a loth-cat, he would probably follow Obi-Wan home with big, pleading eyes too. Plus, Anakin had to admit, it was a very cute kitten.

He sighed heavily, “Does he have a name?” 

A tiny grin curled upon the corners of Obi-Wan lips, that true, genuine smile Anakin missed all too often. “He makes plenty of messes for me to clean, demands constant supervision, and always seems to be getting into trouble. I was thinking about calling him Anakin.” 

“Very funny.” Anakin forced a bitter laugh, though there was no real anger behind the gesture, only affection. “Fine, Anakin can stay, as long as we pick him a new name. Maybe we can pick one together this time.” 

“Yes, I would quite like that.”

Obi-Wan crossed the room and held out his hand for the loth-cat. Anakin’s heart just about melted in his chest as he watched the tiny, fuzzy creature rub its head against Obi-Wan's hand with a soft purr. With his other hand, the one not occupied by their new furry companion, he clasped his grip gently upon Anakin’s shoulder. “I missed you, Anakin.” 

“Me too.” 

#and then they fucked #obikin #not quite hiding the kitty but still kitty cuteness #obi-wan with a cat is something so personal #this was very fun #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #they're in love your honor #ficlet

[casburtoncreates]

Five years, they’d been living together.

Friends had stopped making the will they, won’t they jokes and accepted, pretty much, that they were what they were. Platonic. Neutral. Married, in all but name and bedroom arrangements. They were an odd couple, that was for sure. Sam, the eternal overachiever, going to his nine to five every day, keeping the flat clean, cooking the meals and organising meetups with their old friends. Jason, on the other hand, was a recluse. Filling the hallway with dirty dishes, never leaving the house, rarely taking phone calls. Still not got a job? Sam’s parents would ask over Facetime once a week. He’s got an office job, Sam would lie, unconvincingly. He’s an accountant. An accountant who littered the hallway with his 8-inch heels late at night, who took all his meetings in his room, through video call. Accounting is a very serious business, Sam would argue, and his parents would look at each other on the other end of the line and sigh, before telling their son that they loved him, but…

There was always a but. He went into tech, against their wishes, so he should have been designing software for MI6 by now. He needed to have them over more often, throw some classy dinner parties for them and their friends to show off how well he was doing. He needed to find a decent girl, and move in with her, and leave Jason behind. It didn’t matter that Sam didn’t like MI6, or parties, or girls. They insisted, and so he tried. He made job applications, he bought new cutlery, he scrolled Tinder. He went to interviews, he bought a table runner, he got drunk at the bar before his date, and left alone. He crashed out on the sofa, beside Jason as he rolled up, and shoved his feet in his friend’s face.

“They smell like defeat.”

“They smell like you’re being a twat. It’s only seven, how’re you bladdered already?” Jason frowned at Sam from beneath a mop of curly blond hair and shoved his legs onto the floor. “You’re gonna spill my baccy.” Sam smiled at him hazily, leaning forward to pat the other man’s head gently.

“You’re such a fucking angel Jace, honestly,” he slurred, arm now swinging to grab the half-rolled cigarette, “you’re my best friend.” Sam neatly lifted the cigarette out of harm’s way, rolling and sealing it with a practised ease before answering.

“Yeah, you’re my best friend too mate, but you’re absolutely pissed.” Sam pouted at him, bottom lip quivering, and he sighed heavily, passing his friend the cigarette, and pulling out another paper. “You better smoke all of it this time.” Last month had been a disaster; Sam had taken one to bed and fallen asleep with it still burning. Now, he was supervised.

“I’m an adult, Jace. A man. A big, strong, man, with a job in tech and a pension. Did you know that?” Jason snorted, used to his friend’s drunken rambling by now.

“Ah, yeah sorry mate, I forgot. You’re a big boy now, you don’t need anyone to watch you smoke. I still gotta wipe your arse though, orders are orders.” Sam spluttered, smoke exiting his nostrils, and the two of them dissolved into laughter, the sound echoing in Sam’s ears, until he realised, he wasn’t laughing anymore. “Uh, Sam, dude, are you okay?” Jason was suddenly very quiet, holding his friend’s shoulder with a surprising gentleness as the tears rolled down Sam’s face. “Do you…” He faltered, unsure how to deal with this new territory. They’d lived together five years. “Do you want to talk about it?” Sam took a long drag of his damp cigarette, his throat burning. If he filled the room with enough smoke, he wouldn’t be able to see those hazel eyes anymore- the ones that were filled with concern; that were his fault, because he’d let himself be weak for the first time. This wasn’t him. He didn’t cry, not in front of Jason. Only ever in the dead of the night, alone in his room, or after his parents called, in the bathroom at the office, or on the train home, his face pressed against the window of the underground. Anywhere but here. He took another drag, this one more of a desperate gasp, and the hand on his shoulder tightened. “Hey,” the soft voice near his ear murmured, “you’re gonna make yourself sick, slow down.” And it was true, he could already feel it. But this was what he needed.

“I’m gonna throw up.” Jason was on his feet immediately, his roll-up tucked behind his ear, and Sam’s now confiscated, resting between his lips. He reached down and lifted his friend, awkwardly, hoisting him up by the armpits, until Sam was walking on Bambi legs to the bathroom. Still damp from the stumble home, shirt buttons undone, eyes glassy, he gazed up at Jason like a child beholding the face of God. Those deep brown eyes seemed to see every part of him, and Jason shivered, suddenly feeling his stomach twist in an unexpected fashion. Speeding up, he deposited the drunken mess on the bathroom floor, watching him sink to the ground in slow motion. Sam smiled into the toilet bowl, looking for all the world content, and Jason sighed.

“I’m just gonna go finish these,” he instructed, “so stay here, and try to throw up if you can.” Sam nodded, eyes now closed as he rested his face against the cold toilet seat, and Jason made a hasty exit, head spinning considerably more than his sober state would have warranted.

Stepping onto the tiny balcony of their flat, he took in the concrete terrace, the sad attempts he’d made at growing his own, next to Sam’s flourishing avocado plants and potted herbs. Sam, who always had it together. Who paid the rent for them both most months, who never told him off for accidentally dyeing the shower tray, who helped him pick out new outfits for his shows, but would never dream of watching one, despite the number of hints Jason had dropped. He took a shuddering breath, feeling the cool evening breeze calm the turmoil in his stomach. Sam was crying, and he was out here, because he didn’t trust himself. Because after five years, it would take less than five seconds to burn it all down.

He took a few minutes in the night air, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. The gentle patter of the rain mixed with the sounds of passing cars far below, the distant sirens and the partygoers enjoying Friday night to the fullest. The city was spread out like a map in front of him, and he navigated by the lights, starbursts of red, yellow, and flashing blue. There was Sam’s office, far in the distance, rising above the other tower blocks to pierce the sky. It was ugly, sparkling glass and steel beams doing nothing to hide its corporate violence. They’d razed a ghetto to build it, seven years ago, and it still held those memories within it, the scent of capitalist greed lingering in its hallways like garbage on a hot day. To the right, slightly closer, was their old university, the lecture halls and library spaces where he and Sam had first met- where they’d been bitter rivals, then reluctant partners, then finally, the oddest of friends, joined at the hip. Inside, he heard the toilet flush, and a tired goodnight was called out from beyond the sliding doors as his friend retired to his room, no doubt to pass out, fully clothed on the bed. Jason resisted the urge to go and check on him, bring him a bucket, maybe put him in the recovery position. He was a grown man now. He didn’t need someone to hold his hand.

Jason lay awake for longer than usual that night. By the time he finally drifted off, the sun was already cresting the tower blocks.

  It was late afternoon by the time Sam left his room, dressed in his boxers and one of Jason’s old summer camp t-shirts. Jason looked up from the sofa and held back a chuckle at his friend’s dishevelled state, the imprint of the sheets still evident on the dark skin of his face, sleep in his eyes and one sock still hanging on, halfway down his foot. He directed Sam to the pot of coffee, now going cold on the side, and offered a cigarette, which his friend declined, nose wrinkling.

“No way in hell am I doing that again.” Jason shrugged.

“Suit yourself, mate.” He wandered over to the balcony, whose doors were open, streaming sunlight into the flat, and lit up as he waited for Sam to join him. After a minute, he felt a presence, and glanced over to see the other man stood beside him, leaning against the railing and gripping his mug like a lifeline. They stood in silence for a little while, taking in the scent of warm, damp tarmac, and Saturday afternoon cooking drifting up from a few floors below. Sam finally spoke.

“I can’t keep doing this Tinder bullshit. And I don’t want kids. They don’t understand that.” Jason nodded slowly as his friend continued. “I got a job offer yesterday. From a gaming tech company in Glasgow.”

“They won’t like that.”

“I know.” Another few minutes of silence. Glasgow was a long way away. Too far to commute. The world seemed to hold its breath. “But I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“You’ve always wanted to go into the games industry. What’s the pay like?” Sam scoffed as Jason asked the question, and they both shared a chuckle.

“Oh, it’s shit, of course. But what’s new? At least rent there’ll be cheaper.” And there it was. The question hung over them like a dark cloud.

“Do you…” Jason’s fingers gripped the railing tightly as he struggled to get the words out in an order that would make sense, that would give him the best possible chance of a positive answer. “Do you want me there?” No, that was all wrong. He couldn’t take the reply to that. He couldn’t take the rejection-

“Yes.” The reply was quiet, but firm; so much so in fact, that even Sam seemed surprised by the force with which he’d spoken it. “I- I mean, yeah, if you want to be there. I’d really like that. I know it’s far away, but-“

“Then I’ll be there.” The matter was settled. Sam loosened his grip on his mug, which was now lukewarm, at best. He hadn’t drunk the coffee yet. Part of him didn’t want to wake up fully. If he was still in this haze, perhaps, he could act like he was still dreaming. In this liminal space between waking and sleeping, the possibilities were endless. It had already worked once. He looked over at Jason, taking him in. Silhouetted against the sky, he was once again an angel. Last night Sam had looked up at him and seen the universe. Now he could see it again. It was in the way he picked his nails, in the way he shook his hair out of his eyes. In the concentration as he surveyed the city, their city, like he was always seeing it for the last time. In the way he looked back at Sam now, questioningly, with his head cocked slightly to one side, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful.” The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, and they hung in the air between the two, a mystery to be unravelled. He could play it off as a joke, he could make it friendly, he could- he didn’t know.

Sam stubbed out his cigarette, letting the filter drop to the street far below. He looked away for a moment again, frowning at the office block in the distance. “S- sorry,” Sam stuttered, “I-“

“Do you want to get a one-bedroom, in Glasgow?” There was silence for a moment, and as he looked back, he saw the hurt in Sam’s eyes, and realised. “Not like that, I-“

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No, I just meant-“

“I’ll leave, I’m sorry, I made things-“

The kiss surprised them both. Jason hadn’t thought about it, not really. Sam wasn’t listening, he didn’t understand, and so he’d just… Kissed him. It had seemed like a simple act of communication at the time, but now it was so much more. Sam’s hands fisted in his hair as they pressed against the railing, the coffee mug broken on the terrace floor, locked together for what seemed like a lifetime, but still not long enough. It was an eternity before they broke apart, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together like hands in prayer. Jason pressed another soft kiss against Sam’s lips, before smiling.

“No more Tinder dates.” And the matter was settled.

#short stories #romance #gay #creative writing #small but beautiful things

[megandzane]

Like, even saying he's an EX is really funny and a reach to me. They were 13 lol that's barely a relationship

Literally. There’s no dates or anything like that, it’s basically just a boy you hold hands with 😭

It was summer camp. And they didn’t even go to the same school, so I doubt they saw each other much if they did continue to hang out after camp ended.

#we got mail #and maybe watch movies with #the summer camp thing is what really makes it sound like a reach #those last like a week or two and are heavily supervised

[sleephyjhs]

When You’re Expecting (Taehyung Headcanon)

pairing: taehyung x pregnant!reader

warnings: mention of fertility & pregnancy complications

note: i’ve been craving to write a bts x pregnancy series for a while so here we go !! if there’s a specific member you’d like to see next, shoot me an ask :)

m.list

FINDING OUT

even before finding out you were pregnant, you both had so much love for your child

there was nothing either of you could have wanted more than a baby

it was always at the forefront of your mind how much you wanted a little human of your own

it was approaching a year since you began trying seriously

a few false hopes and two miscarriages later, fertility drugs were looking to improve the chances of conceiving

the raging hormones which came with the drugs were all worth the positive test

early september - sickness had hung around your throat for days

headaches lasted longer than usual, and crying at the most mundane things had become an unwelcome habit

in the bathroom cabinet, you’d collected a small stockpile of electronic and stick pregnancy tests

one of them would eventually show positive, right?

taehyung sat on the bathroom tiles with you

waiting two minutes felt closer to waiting two months

he crossed his legs, bouncing his knees impatiently

your knees came to your chin; high hopes weighed heavily on your heart

the alarm set on his phone beeped quietly

your heartbeat rose suddenly to your throat

taehyung reached out for your hand as you turned to read the results

two blue lines - as clear as day

they became less clear as your eyes coated with thick, salty tears

he began to chuckle as his happiness trickled down his cheeks

“we did it baby! we’re gonna have a baby!” he whispered, choked up by his own anticipation

no words were left swirling in your mind

your jaw hung open as though the hinges were faulty

shakily, you lifted the electronic test to triple check

pregnant.

as you crashed into taehyung’s open arms, memories of the past loomed in your mind

it was only inevitable

a positive test was a familiar joy to you both

however this familiar joy had only ever been followed by crippling devastation

as much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t help but retain maternal caution

however, this time also felt different

taehyung’s spirit, your spirit - it was as though fate didn’t want to disappoint you any more

someone out there decided it was finally your time to grow a mini human to bring into the world

of course, no time was wasted in contacting the maternity clinic

seeing your baby on a screen was now a top priority

just to see their little head, maybe even hear their heartbeat

just to know they were okay

just to know you were keeping them cosy and safe, that’s all you needed

taehyung couldn’t hold his excitement

from leaving the house to reaching the hospital, his toothy grin never wiped from his cheeks

he never said anything at the time since his main focus was always on comforting you

but losing his babies near enough tore him apart

even when you tried to comfort him, taehyung restricted himself just to protect your wellbeing

of course, the worse had already crossed his mind

but it wouldn’t get the better of him

it couldn’t.

you soon learned you were already 6 weeks pregnant

the midwife had to point out where your little baby was hanging out; they were such a tiny thing after all

briefly, you took the opportunity to hear their heartbeat

it was faint over the machine, but fast

there really was a life within you.

“there’s something else, if you just look over here...” the midwife prompted, turning the monitor so you could grasp a better view

taehyung leaned slightly over your chest to peer closely at the smaller monochrome screen

with the mouse, she circled a second bean shaped figure

“the fertility drugs increase the chance of twins. looks like you guys got lucky!”

twins. you were having twins.

THE PREGNANCY

like with most pregnancies, you were advised to wait until the 12 week milestone to begin announcing your impending delivery

and even though he understood the importance of patience right now, taehyung could hardly contain his excitement

it didn’t help that a little bump had already begun to grow

keeping a secret was much more difficult when the evidence was near impossible to hide

already, taehyung spent early mornings talking to his little angels

telling them stories he seemingly made up on the spot

or even borrowing some from his own childhood

“you know they can’t hear you yet? it’s about 7 weeks until they’ll be able to, honey.”

“i know, i’m just practising for when they can.”

of course, you wouldn’t admit that you did the same when you were alone

you attended more midwife appointments than other expectant mothers might

the pair of you much preferred being on the safer side

in the car, when on a quieter, less congested road, taehyung often reached over to cradle your still-growing bump with a free hand

you slotted your fingertips between his for additional sappiness

“you two have so many people waiting for you here, hmm? many people are already so in love with you both. me and mummy included.”

on a sleepless night, you’d made a small pact with tae

it was a rash decision, but sincere nonetheless

“no matter what, they are always going to know how wanted they were. always.”

taehyung hardly needed reminding of this, but it was still a weight off your shoulders

as you tried to conceive, the pregnancy diet had already been implemented into your daily routines

however now that you were carrying two precious babies, there really would be no more ‘cheat’ days for you

no more extra half cups of coffee on slower mornings

although you usually took over the role of head chef in the house, taehyung dedicated extra effort into preparing you both healthy and yummy foods

sautéd rice with green vegetables and lean meat/tofu appeared to be his go-to

but you still opted to supervise just in case

finally being able to announce your pregnancy was another heavy weight lifted from your mind

the other members were over the moon for you both

particularly when they reminded themselves of the struggles you had experienced previously

and also remembering the utter devastation of their taehyung when he had to break it to them

all of them kept their eye out for little gifts and outfits

each week, taehyung came home with a new stack of pale rompers or neutral-tones teething toys

these babies would have the best uncles; at least that much you could be certain of

announcing your pregnancy on social media was a looming task, but one he was determined to pull off perfectly

for filler content between schedules, the members had been asked to film a 5 minute vlog of their daily life

well, what a perfect opportunity!

towards the end, taehyung made sure to include some shots of your now protruding bump overlaid with some more vintage camera settings

safe to say, that day you had broken the internet

love, congratulations and blessings poured in from every corner of the earth

a few comments complimenting how much pregnancy suited you touched you especially

self image is commonly effected by the progression of pregnancy, and you were no exception to that

although it was amazing how your body grew and made a little home for your tiny babies, it was still quite strange to see yourself changing so quickly

your favourite clothes didn’t fit around your doubled bump anymore

and your skin seemed to hate sharing nutrients with two extra people

but for the days where you struggled to love yourself, taehyung easily filled in the gaps for you

sneaking up behind you in the bathroom

(although the mirror kinda gave him away)

he’d wrap his arms around your just-moisturised bump and carefully rest his chin on your shoulder

“tell me all your worries honey.”

you gushed over how much you missed wearing your favourite jackets

and how strange it was to look at yourself in such a new and confusing way

“i know it’s normal, and i know i have to do it for them. but i guess it’s just weird - i don’t look like myself anymore”

he sighed and planted a kiss on a spot of bare skin

those small kisses still tickled you like they always had

“well, you definitely look different,”

you really hoped there was a second part to that sentence, mostly for tae’s own good

“but why does that have to be bad? not gonna lie, it actually kinda makes you hotter. maybe we should make babies more often!”

“make~?”

LABOUR AND DELIVERY

originally, you had wanted to try and stick to the natural route for as long as you could

but after a few contractions, that idea was immediately out of the window

to help steady yourself and wait out the pain, you held onto the kitchen island and swayed to your own pace

eventually, taehyung joined you

copying the same movements while timing your contractions

“they really must be desperate to come out, huh?”

“well do you think they could hurry it up a bit?!”

the pair of you had been prepared for this for over a month

the hospital bag was ready by the door with all of your essentials packed tightly inside

not forgetting the pots of instant ramen taehyung insisted he must bring in case of an emergency

just as he was readying to back out of the driveway, taehyung took a mental stock check of everything packed in the back

“do you think we have everything?”

“i love you but stop talking please.”

thankfully, he understood well that the sheer pain made you cranky

so long as he assured himself that it was ‘just the contractions’, he’d be just fine

as much as he couldn’t wait to announce he was about to become a father to everyone, he kept himself grounded when walking you to the maternity ward

one corridor in and you’d suggested that a wheelchair might be a better mode of transport

breathlessness and contractions didn’t sound like a favourable mix to you

the assessment of your fast dilation granted you an immediate spot in the labour ward

you’d picked this suite specially due to its expansive space

the option of a birthing pool was still available if you so needed it, but the mood lighting and access to aromatherapy was what attracted you to the room in the first place

a serene paradise for your angels to be born into

it was perfect

taehyung explored while you adjusted to your new surroundings

of course, it didn’t take him long to find the birthing ball

“what’s the difference between a yoga ball and a birthing ball?”

there obviously was none, but you took a few seconds to try and be smart with him

“well, sit on that and you might have a baby the size of a watermelon come out of you soon.”

taehyung cradled his torso and pulled a shocked expression, which was enough to make you giggle and cause another contraction

less than a few hours passed, and you had already attempted to scream the building down once or twice

“get these babies out of me. no i’m serious, i need them out.”

realising your deadpan expression, taehyung soon attended to you at the head of your bed

stroking your slightly sweaty head and patting a ice cold flannel on your clammy forehead

he braced himself for a crushing hand grip which came about sooner than he’d prepared for

you weren’t the biggest fan of commotion, and so being surrounded by nurses and doctors was close to being your worst nightmare

taehyung focused his voice into your ear, trying to minimise the tension coming from below your pelvis

his motivational words were broken up by short bursts of pushes

many of which were followed by a string of curse words which just slipped out

and then, there it was.

the first piercing cry belted across the room

a tear or two may have happened to slip from your eyes

finally the moment you’d waited for, nearly two years in the making, was here

the first of two, a little girl who already had a head full of the most luscious black hair

taehyung wanted to hold back his happy tears in order to show some kind of strength

but you and him both knew he’d never hold it back for long

within the space of 4 minutes, the second baby was born into the world.

but this time, there was no immediate cry

the whole world seemed to slow down in that moment as you waited

and waited

midwifes gathered around the new infant, looking for any kind of obstruction

but, soon enough, your son said his first hello to the world

#taehyung #kim taehyung #bts #bts taehyung #bts v #bangtan #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts drabble #bts headcanon #bts mtl #bts imagine #bts reaction #bts pregnancy #taehyung dad #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #taehyung pregnancy

[arrantsnowdrop]

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien​

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match. 

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #star wars fanfiction

[harrywritingsbyme]

Getting It In

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: Something short, sweet, and spicy with a sucky ending for ya! Enjoy🙃

Ever since quarantine began in March, you and Harry were constantly trying to get it in. Before the Styles family was confined to the house, the kids would be in school all day which meant that you and Harry had the entire house to yourselves. Furthermore, when you two weren’t insanely busy throughout the day, you and Harry were able to soak up every ounce of each other in any position and in any part of the house until 2:30 pm. But per usual, some good things must come to an end. Now neither of you were complaining about the family time with the little ones. You two loved your bubs to pieces and it was so great to be at home and spend quality time together as a family. It’s just that 24 hours, 7 days a week, for 7 months was a really long time. During the day when either Harry or yourself (mainly Harry of course) wanted to engage in one of you guys’ coveted sexscapades, there was a process involved. It couldn’t be at the drop of a dime when either of you were feeling frisky, there was a checklist in both of your minds that had to be completed before anything happened.

For starters, you and Harry had to find a way to preoccupy the two 5 year olds that were in your care. Since they were at home and you two were not only parents but now teachers as well, you and Harry were tasked with staying on top of their education and finding activities that could keep the twins preoccupied for a short amount of time. Once that was taken care of, you and Harry had to then sneak off to a part of they house that was secluded yet still in reach just in case there was an emergency. After that, the two of you had to rip off and undo each other’s clothes off in a quick and quiet manner. Luckily, the two of you had taken up sweats and T-shirts as your normal everyday attire, so it was pretty easy to get everything off and get down to business. And even though you two were enjoying every second of being together because those moments were few and far between at times, you and Harry  were doing your best to be alert and ready to spring into action for the kids that were just around the corner.

In the beginning of quarantine, and all the way up until about June, you and Harry were practically glued to the two children. They were in their first year of school and needed the utmost attention at all times. And for the most part, the twins were never alone; there was always at least one of you with them to help out. The only times you two had the opportunity(if you could even call it that) to get some time alone in was during the block of time you guys let them watch tv, when they were playing with their toys or coloring, and when they took their naps. The prime times of early in the morning along with the time after they were put to bed was out of the question considering the fact that you both were exhausted after running around the house taking care of it and the small children that were running around in it. Once you and Harry hit the bed, it was lights out. And they stayed out until your alarms blared so that the two of you could get the kids up and get the day started.

Now from June to August, things were a bit better when it came to yours and Harry’s sex life. Even though the kids were on summer vacation and you two were completely in charge of their daily activities, you were able to give them more time to spend doing fun things that needed less supervision. You two were still actively spending time with them for the majority of the day but you still made sure to have activities in place just in case you and Harry were in the mood. Neither of you were complete fans of plopping them down in front of the television, but when you two were itching for some type of contact you and Harry did what you had to do. There were also little projects for them to do that would occupy their time and allow for you guys to sneak away. You and Harry even went as far as to tire them out early so that by midday they’d be ready for a nap and you two could hop into bed yourselves. And when you both still had a sliver energy left once the little ones were put to bed, you and Harry would wind the rest of the way down in each other. That is, if there weren’t two little bodies crammed between the two of you. Overall, the summer went pretty well for you and Harry in terms of getting it in. Cravings were satisfied and family memories were made.

Fast forward to now and things were still on this steady terrain. The new school year has begun and the twins were now in first grade which meant that you and Harry can step back a little bit and do other things. And other things meant each other. After getting the two children put together and seated in front of their computers that were in a room right off from the living room, you and Harry clean up the kitchen from breakfast before getting yourselves together one at a time just in case the kids needed a little help. Once you were done taking care of/getting a start on some chores around the house along with getting a little head start on lunch and Harry was done with a meeting he had over zoom, the both of you were in need of a little mommy and daddy time. The only thing you two had in the past week that was remotely close to that was a quick makeout session in the kitchen last night while the twins washed their hands before dinner. When the two of you meet in the kitchen, it’s like your minds are instantly synched and you both are on the exact same page. Harry wastes zero time coming over and sweeping you up off your feet and onto the counter behind you. He also wastes no time bringing his mouth to yours in a hurried manner. Your hands immediately gravitate to the sides of his face to pull him down closer to you, and his gravitate down to your hips so that he could tug you closer to the edge, bringing him further between your legs.

“Need you so bad baby.” Harry mumbles against your lips as he begins to bring them down to your neck. 

“But what if they hear us?” You ask him through your soft moans. Despite wanting him more than ever right now, you were terrified at the thought of your children walking in on their parents. The last thing you wanted was to scar them for life. 

“C’mon babe, they have their headphones on they won't hear me pounding into you.” He reassures through his kisses to your neck. “Plus i made sure i got the noise cancelling headphones for them." He continues, wanting to make sure you know that everything’s fine. 

“Alright, but we have to be quick and quiet.” You oblige, giving in and letting Harry take the lead in making you both feel good. 

Keeping you on the counter in front of him, Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of your sweats to pull them down from your waist. You urgently lift your hips up from the counter so that he could pull them off.  Since the two of you were in a bit of a crunch, Harry doesn’t even bother pulling your shirt off and he goes right into shoving his own pants down his legs. He keeps his underwear and sweats pooled at his ankles just in case. Once you both are both undressed from the waist down, Harry hooks his fore finger into the bottom of your panties and pulls them to the side to expose your pussy. From where he was standing above you, he could see your glistening folds perfectly and he was even more in need of getting inside of you. Before he actually pushes in, he pulls himself back a bit before bending down and licking a wide stripe up your folds to collect some of your juices on his tongue. He then sucks on your clit a little and comes back up to push into you.

“Ready baby?”Harry asks softly to you, bringing his other hand down to tug at his stiff cock a bit. 

“Please Harry!” You huff impatiently, needing him to push into you. Prompted by your urgent response, Harry moves in closer to you, lining his cock up with your damp entrance and beginning to push into your cunt. “Oh my- fuck” You breathe out, feeling his cock stretching your walls to fit his cock inside.

“So fucking tight” Harry grunts lowly, feeling himself being engulfed by your warmth. After about a week of not being inside you, this was absolute heaven. After continuing to push his cock as deep into you as possible, Harry gives you about a second or two to adjust before he’s quickly moving his hips back and forth into you. The way he rocked his hips into you was unmatched. He continuously pushed his cock into you again and again as you tired to keep your moans at bay. You were digging your nails into Harry’s wrist and biting into your lower lip as you took him all the way inside. You weren’t the only one who was fully immersed in the pleasure while trying their hardest not to moan out loud, Harry too was struggling. He could almost guarantee that your walls were lined in the softest and smoothest velvet. Nothing could top the feeling of your walls against his cock. You were squeezing him and whining about how good it felt while he did the same above you. 

As he continued to pound into you, Harry could feel his release bubbling up inside of him. He was beginning to feel tingles all over his body and he could feel a warm tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach. To pull you closer to the edge with him, Harry extends his thumb out to circle it around the sensitive bundle of nerves. When he does this, you feel the sensations traveling through your body and you can feel your release nearing. When you begin to lift your hips a bit up into his thrusts along with clenching around him, Harry begins to go harder. He wanted to pound you both into your releases. And that he did. With only a few hard thrusts, Harry sends you both into the downward spiral of your releases. You both were shaking a little as you held back your moans as you two let go. Your walls were contacting heavily around Harry’s cock as you came and Harry was gushing into you as he let go. After riding the tidal waves of your releases, Harry lets go of your panties and lowers himself down onto your body that was lying on the counter, bringing his mouth down to smear a kiss onto yours. You don’t even hold back, you were a bit loopy from what just happened that you just went for it. Your lips and tongue languidly moved against his as the two of you continued to “cool down” after your releases. But as if it was right on time, you both hear a small voice calling out to your both for some assistance.

“At least we got a good round in.” Harry hums optimistically against your lips, giving you one last peck before lifting himself back up. 

“Yeah, hopefully we can do it again sometime.” You joke, not even bothering to try and lift yourself up. 

“Hopefully.” Harry whispers back with a smile as he slowly pulls his cock from you. “Now I’ll be right back to clean you up, alright?” Harry asks, bending down to pull his underwear and sweats back up.

“Mhm.” You reply simply.  

“I love you.” Harry whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Love you too.” You smile, continuing to lay back against the counter, hoping that you’d regain enough feeling to have yourself back to normal once Harry comes back. 

Even though you and Harry were always horny and looked for ways to sneak away from your kids, neither of you could get enough of being together as a family 24/7.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles blurb

[thebibliosphere]

if you have the time and capacity I would greatly appreciate some chronic health advice! I'm also someone who deals with the clusterfuck of problems that is MCAS (and POTS and EDS and immune deficiency...) and I'm wondering what drew you to an organic diet to treat MCAS? its really hard for me to find reliable information on if and why it works, but I've seen several mentions within the MCAS community about it.

I've been Struggling to keep my MCAS symptoms in check, and they keep escalating (severe asthma flares, burning in my mouth while consuming things, and bleeding sores suddenly appearing in my mouth and taking forever to heal, along with all the typical MCAS symptoms just short of anaphylaxis) so at this point I'm willing to try anything that might help 😭 I do have an allergy/immunology doctor, but a lot of their focus lately has been trying to treat my immune deficiency, so I haven't gotten much info on how to handle this. any advice or info you can point me towards would be greatly appreciated.

So, I was prescribed an all organic diet by my allergist before we new I had MCAS because during a bout of testing to try and figure out what the hell was going on, I had two different skin reactions to corn. One was organic corn, and my body was completely fine. The other was regular corn and my body broke out in hives. I wasn’t told which was which, or even what they were testing, in order to prevent any possible psycho symptomatic reactions. My then allergist, who I honestly miss cause he was way more competent and 💯% less of an ass than the one I have now, looked at that, looked at all my other problems and went “well that’s weird”, and summarily prescribed me an all organic diet to see if it would help.

It did, and it was concluded that my body was reacting to the minute trace amounts of synthetic pesticide (probably glysophate) found in non-organic foods. I emphasize synthetic, because organic foods still use organic pesticides, which are also not that great for the environment or people due to lack of FDA regulation, but when your choices are death now or potential cancer in 40 years, you take what you can get. He also hypothesized that because I grew up in the UK/Europe where pesticide use in general is more heavily regulated, as are preservatives, that that was also what was making me ill.

Some five years later and we fast forward to now, and we do indeed know that pesticides and preservatives can be mast cell disorder triggers. Even more natural ways of preserving foods (like fermenting) can be a mast cell dysfunction trigger due to histamine intolerance. The more you know 🌈 ⭐️

Which is also something to consider. Not everyone with MCAS has histamine intolerance, just like how not everyone with HIT has MCAS, but the two often go hand in hand. If you haven’t tried a low histamine elimination diet, it might be worthwhile to see if it helps. I do urge caution though, as a low histamine diet is extremely dangerous long term due to lack of nutrients, and it should ideally be done under the guidance of a doctor for no more than 4 weeks. I was left on a low histamine diet for almost two years by a negligent doctor, and almost starved to death. Also with things like MCAS and HIT the goal is to gradually build your list of tolerated foods back up, not to keep eliminating them, as that is the only way to heal. You need to get your body to a good baseline for healing, then try to get as much nutrients back into your diet as possible. And before anyone jumps in to recommend feeding tubes as they’ve done in the past: feeding tubes should be an absolute last resort when all other options have been exhausted. They are also no guarantee against anaphylaxis and have other complications that can be fatal, so it is imperative to try and avoid them at all costs.

With an HIT diet and competent medical supervision, I’ve gone from being able to eat 2 things to 21 in the last year. Still not a huge amount, but it’s huge progress for me, considering my body was reacting to tap water at one point. Still does sometimes, so I recommend looking into filters that remove trace amounts of chlorine from the water, for both drinking and bathing. You can get shower filters that attach to the head for like $30 and it can help with skin reactions/eczema like symptoms. I do not recommend full house systems that filter via the pipes, as the treatments used in water are actually essential for preventing things like pipe corosion or mold build up, but filtering from the faucets/shower heads is a good idea.

Which brings me onto things like skin products and household items. With MCAS, there can be any number of things that trigger us that in turn make our bodies primed to react to everything and anything we put into it. A lot of household cleaners, especially scented things, are mast cell dysfunction triggers. Tide washing detergent, for example, absolutely murders my throat if I breathe the scent in. We had friends come to stay recently to help with our basement demolition, and the smell of their laundry detergent made my throat swell and my eyes burn. It also helped me realize that yeah, actually, switching to all free and clear products for all of our household needs has Substantially reduced my overall reactions, including to foods. I now avoid anything scented, yes including essential oils, because essential oils can be triggers for anyone, not just folks with mast cell issues. Natural doesn’t mean safe. Nor does it mean shit to MCAS where some people can eat potato chips just fine, but can’t eat healthier things like fruit or veg because our mast cells have gone wonky and mistake certain proteins for allergies, whether we have a true IgE allergy or not.

Unfortunately, this does mean we end up incredibly deficient in many vitamins and nutrients, and supplements are necessary for our survival and recovery. Re: the mouth sores and bleeding, if no one has tested your b12 levels along with a homocysteine test, get that done asap. I had mouth sores for up to six months before we found out I had severe pernicious anemia and was on the verge of death. Low folate and low iron can also cause tongue/mouth burning, and those things go hand in hand with b12 deficiency. (And most foods that are high in b12 are often off-limits to people with HIT/MCAS. EDS also means we don’t absorb them as well from the gut, so it’s a good thing to check regardless) if it's not that, try looking at things like your toothpaste/mouthwash. Try avoiding toothpaste with SLS in them; see if that helps. Sensodyne is a good brand that makes an effort to avoid SLS but double-check the ingredients. I can't use any mouthwashes, so I make a point of doing salt water rinses when I remember. Some people also use oil pulling as an alternative to conventional mouthwash.

Unfortunately, MCAS is one size fits no one disorder, so the only way to get a handle on it is to find out what works for you. It makes things very overwhelming, but I hope some of the above is helpful and proves useful to you. Best of luck, and if you've got any more questions hmu, I'll try to help where I can 💖

#chronic health tag #mcas #long post #eds #pots #histamine intolerance

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Hills of Marigold

Before that, we must find love and fill the vessel with it. (Chapter 500) | Discord Secret Santa 2020 for @chavelink​. | AO3 | Holiday Prompt: Day of the Dead.

                                ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts with Kakashi’s sticker chart.

Naruto is not quite old enough for the Academy yet, but his eagerness to become a shinobi is almost as vast as his ability to turn his home upside down the minute his parents look away.

Though Kakashi’s duties don’t usually leave him much time for babysitting, he knows more than most how rare it is that the Hokage gets free time, so he volunteers himself twice a month to be subject to the hurricane that is five-year-old Uzumaki Naruto in his sensei’s stead.

Out-running Naruto is not the problem. Kakashi is certainly fast enough to reach him before he can do any permanent damage. What really perplexes Kakashi is how to keep a five-year-old entertained. Naruto is more loud, curious and insistent on clinging to Kakashi every minute of he’s around than anyone he’s ever met. (Even Gai can be reasoned with, Kakashi thinks, trying to make rice with two sticky hands tugging on his jōnin blues.)

“Why can’t we eat ramen instead, Kakashi-niichan?” Naruto complains, scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t have any nutritional value,” Kakashi replies, sighing.

Naruto pauses, and though Kakashi’s eyes are on the stovetop, he knows the younger boy is frowning. “What’s that?”

“Vitamins and minerals. Those things are in the vegetables you’re going to eat.” He eyes the other pan, and decides it’s time to plate the sweet potato and broccoli. Naruto doesn’t look particularly enthused, so Kakashi reminds him, “If you want to become a ninja, you’ll have to eat the kind of food which makes you stronger.”

At the mention of the word ‘ninja,’ Naruto’s face lights up. “Hey, Kakashi-nii, teach me a jutsu!”

It’s not the first time Naruto has asked, and Kakashi usually flat-out refuses. Naruto is destructive enough without any shinobi techniques. But an idea suddenly strikes Kakashi. “How about we make a deal?”

The deal Kakashi proposes is premised on the most basic of tactics Minato-sensei has instilled in his team: Positive reinforcement. If Naruto behaves well enough, Kakashi will teach him something.

It becomes clear to Kakashi in the first hour or so that Naruto’s impatience outweighs his focus. With the prospect of a ninja technique on the line, he is far more concerned about hassling the information out of Kakashi than he is about washing up after lunch, or cleaning his room. So it falls on Kakashi to improvise.

Kakashi holds up the latest Ichiraku flyer. “You see these stickers?” he asks.

“So we are getting ramen?” Naruto asks, bouncing on his heels.

“Not today.” Carefully, Kakashi peels up a circle which announces a 10% off deal on yakisoba. “If you can earn five of these stickers, I’ll teach you how to knock someone my size off of their feet. But I’ll keep the flyer with me, so there’s no cheating.”

Kakashi’s plan is more effective than he could’ve predicted. Not only does Naruto manage to keep himself clean the rest of the afternoon, but his attempts at taijutsu tire him out to the point where, for once, he is asleep in bed by the time Minato and Kushina come home.

“Are you interested in becoming a jōnin-sensei, Kakashi?” Minato asks him with a wide smile.

“Not on your life,” says Kakashi, shunshin-ing away with a wave.

—

Whether he likes it or not, Kakashi does become something of a teacher to Naruto. The young boy, distracted as he is, doesn’t shy away from hard work, as long as it’s something that interests him. After a while, they make their way through some basic attack and defence strategy (though Naruto seems to rely much more heavily on the former). Kakashi even tries to work with him on chakra control, but despite his size, Naruto’s chakra reservoir is enormous, so even gathering chakra to his palms proves difficult.

By the time they take a break in the late afternoon, Kakashi half-wishes he could reach for the book in his pocket and spend the rest of the day letting Naruto practice, but he knows shinobi at this age usually need supervision. He sighs, passing his hand over the dandelions wistfully.

“It’s not fair, y’know,” Naruto complains, sprawled out on the grass. “How come I can’t make my hands work like yours, Kakashi-nii?”

“You’re five,” Kakashi tells him, as if it’s that simple.

“But Sasuke can—”

Kakashi hears Naruto complain about Sasuke, his habitual playmate, often. Itachi’s little brother, if the name is anything to go by. Kakashi isn’t sure if Naruto sees Sasuke as his greatest enemy or best friend.

“It doesn’t matter how quickly you can learn. What’s important is that you work at it.” Kakashi says firmly. Sensing Naruto needs more reassurance, he adds, “Besides, Sasuke may not have as much chakra as you do.”

Naruto mulls this thought over, tugging the grass into his small fists. “Why not?”

Kakashi thinks of Kushina, and the overwhelming energy it must take just to contain her presence. “It seems to run in your family.”

As if summoned by these words, Kakashi feels a shift in the air which marks Naruto’s mother’s arrival. The sure-footed sound of her sandals landing on a tree branch, the smell of coconut oil from her hair, and the loud chakra signature which matches her son.

“It’s time for dinner, y’know!” Kushina announces, hands on her hips as she jumps down. “Minato made grilled saury, and I won’t have you boys coming back when it’s already cold.”

“Food!” Naruto says, hopping to his feet with a grin. He grabs his mother’s hand. “Let’s go, kaa-chan!”

Weakly, Kakashi tries to raise his hands in a warding gesture. “Actually, I have some food at home—”

“Nice try,” Kushina says, grabbing the collar of his flak vest with her free hand. “You’re coming too, Kakashi.”

Kakashi sighs, letting himself be tugged along. “Aren’t I too old for you to still be force-feeding me?”

“If you want to be a ninja, you have to eat strong things,” Naruto pipes up from Kushina’s side helpfully.

“You tell him, Naruto!” Kushina says, grinning at her son.

“I don’t like being a sensei,” Kakashi mutters under his breath, while Kushina and Naruto laugh at him.

—

Despite Kakashi’s words, dinner at the Uzumaki household isn’t so bad. Kushina may give him too many helpings of saury, Minato might be far too concerned about his social life, and Naruto might try to dump his vegetables on Kakashi’s plate, but there is a warmth in their home in which Kakashi cannot help but feel caught up.

It is this same warmth which has him linger after dinner is over, handing plates over to Kushina as Minato carries Naruto off to bed.

“I want to thank you, y’know,” Kushina says gently. “Naruto thinks pretty highly of you.”

Kakashi ducks his head, cheeks ruddy over the edge of his mask. “I’m not doing much.”

“He really looks forward to those stickers, and your lessons.” she says. Her eyes drift towards the fridge, where Naruto has stuck a colourful paper with his assortment of Ichiraku coupons. “I was wondering, do you mind if I join you both next time? There’s a place I’d like to show Naruto. And you, if you’re willing.”

The request leaves Kakashi taken aback. While Kushina doesn’t often leave the village, he knows she’s as busy as Minato-sensei, overseeing most of the genin and chunin missions in his stead. But Kushina’s eyes are sincere and bright, so he cannot bring himself to question the request.

“Ah, sure,” he replies. “What did you have in mind?”

What Kushina has in mind, it turns out, is a week-long trip to the coastline. It requires Kakashi to turn down a two-man mission with Tenzō, and an invitation from Asuma to join his former classmates for Yakiniku, but he is curious about what could Kushina could want to show them so much. A curiosity which only grows when he realizes that Minato-sensei will be joining them.

Kakashi leans against the doorframe, straightening up when his sensei walks in, backpack in hand. “Is it really okay for you to be leaving Konoha for a week, sensei? I mean, Yondaime-sama?” he corrects.

“I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t think so,” Minato replies firmly. “Our village is made up of more than just the Hokage, Kakashi. Shikaku-san will look after the the jōnin, and Chōza-san will see to the genin and chunin. Sandaime-sama has agreed to deal with any emergencies. Konoha will be fine without us.”

Kakashi’s brows draw together. “Whatever Kushina wants us to see must be important.”

Minato smiles. “I’ll leave it to her to tell you the rest. Let’s get going.”

—

It occurs to Kakashi, as they head east, that he has never seen Minato and Kushina on a mission together.

It is something to behold. They keep pace with each other naturally, even with Kushina carrying Naruto on her back. And though Kushina’s presence is louder and bolder than Minato’s, there is a synchronicity in their movements which makes Kakashi think of celestial bodies moving in each other’s orbit. It strikes Kakashi with the memory of being five years old himself, seeing two smiling faces looking down at him in the moonlight.

As they stop to rest for the night, Kakashi puzzles over if he’s ever taken a trip like this, just for the sake of it. If he has, it’s hard to recall. At Naruto’s age, his world had been so different.

Even his sensei has changed somehow, he decides, looking at Minato, Kushina and Naruto piled beneath one blanket. More at ease with the world, he thinks, watching as Naruto’s knee digs into his father’s chest. He hears Minato whisper something to Kushina, and watches their hands intertwine, musing on what it would be like to look so certain of his place in life.

“Don’t look so gloomy,” Kushina tells him the next morning, as they pack up. “You’re not on duty today. You can relax. Maybe even smile.”

“I relax,” Kakashi replies, crossing his arms.

Kushina laughs, reaching upward to muss up his hair. He wonders when he outgrew her. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The last half of their trip passes quickly. They stop in a seaside village long enough for lunch, but from thereon out, the rest of their trip is past far enough from the forest that the landscape remains full and vast before them.

Kakashi takes note as they pass over rolling hills filled with marigolds, adding unusual brightness to their path. Kushina’s speed finally slows down to a walking pace, and it allows Naruto to stare with open-mouthed appreciation at their view.

“Orange is my favourite colour,” Naruto announces, holding up a flower right up to Kakashi’s visible eye.

“I believe you,” says Kakashi.

Kakashi wonders if this is another trait that runs in their family, as he watches Kushina gather a bouquet of her own. Minato looks on with fondness, taking their son into his arms instead, so that his wife can move more freely.

When Kushina is nearly done, Minato approaches her and tucks a flower into her hair. His gaze is warm and soft in a way that makes Kakashi feel like he should look away. He wonders yet again why Kushina has asked him here, with their family, bright and orange and whole.

Kushina turns to Kakashi. “We’re almost there.”

Flowers clutched in hand, they walk until the flowers give way to grass, and until that grass shifts to sand. Though it’s approaching sunset, the water still shines with its warm reflection, straight through the lapping waves to let its bright golden twin rest at their feet. The salted air fills their lungs with every breath.

Wordlessly, Kushina removes her shoes, and Minato takes them into one hand and watches her walk slowly across the sand. Kushina approaches the edge of the water. Marigold petals fall into her footsteps, somehow unmoved by the changing winds.

“Mito-sama,” says Kushina, clear and certain over the breeze. “It’s good to visit you again.”

It only occurs to Kakashi then just where Kushina has taken them. Beyond the horizon line, though he’s never seen it, he’s almost certain there would’ve once been an island. The tide looks calm now, but he’s heard of the powerful current that few shinobi would be able to navigate unscathed.

Kakashi doesn’t expect Kushina’s call to be answered, if her words are for the person he suspects. To his surprise, however, he does hear something, a melodious whisper, by wind or water, that makes Kushina turn to them with the widest smile Kakashi has ever seen.

“Mito-sama,” Kushina says, with nothing pride in her eyes, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Naruto?”

Minato sets his son down on the sand, and lays an encouraging hand on top of his hair. “Go on.”

Naruto is uncharacteristically quiet as he approaches his mother, gazing up at the horizon as he might a new friend. “The name is Uzumaki Naruto!” he proclaims, to the sea.

Kushina’s arms come around Naruto, allowing him to lean his back against her legs. “You told me once that I needed to fill this vessel with love. Naruto... it’s more like he makes the vessel bottomless, because he fills it with more to love than we ever thought possible. He eats lots, and grows every day. He’s really good at making friends. He’s not in the Academy yet, but he’s always doing his best to learn. He’s probably a little too much like me, but I see Minato in him too. We’re a family now, y’know?”

With that, Minato steps forward. Kakashi’s eyes are so fixed on the scene in front of him, he doesn’t notice Minato looking at him until a hand touches his shoulder. “Kakashi,” he says gently, inclining his head towards the water.

Hesitantly, Kakashi walks in step with Minato. When the sand grows wet beneath his feet and his toes are lapped at by the tide, he feels Naruto grab for his hand. He stares at the small fingers for a moment, feeling Minato’s palm still resting on his shoulder, and strands of Kushina’s long hair brushing against all of their backs.

Kushina listens to the wind’s rhythm intently, and continues. “You know Minato. We’ve been walking side-by-side since we were kids. And now, we look over the village together. I think you would like the way it looks now.”

Kakashi feels Kushina’s eyes turn to him. “And this is Kakashi. He’s like a little brother to me. Or like... an older brother to Naruto. I think he’s still too scrawny to be someone’s uncle. He takes too many missions, and he doesn’t spend enough time being a teenager, and he’s always slouching— but he also cares about people more than almost anyone, in this land or the next. I think he likes being Naruto’s teacher, no matter what he says. He’s family too.”

Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat, Kakashi tries not to let Naruto feel his hand shake. “Nice to meet you, Mito-sama,” he says, when he can find his voice.

He cannot make out the wind’s song over the sound of his thudding heartbeat, but he does feel a light breeze against brush against his forehead, leaving the same warmth in its path as his mother and father did when they pressed a goodnight kiss to his temple. His eyes widen.

“I’m glad you could join us, Kakashi,” Minato says, squeezing Kakashi’s shoulder.

In turn, Kakashi’s grip on Naruto’s fingers becomes tighter, if still gentle. “Me too.”

#kakashi hatake #naruto uzumaki #minakushi #kushina uzumaki #minato namikaze #uzumaki family #i hope this does justice to your prompt! #ayesha talks anime #fanfiction #mine #long post #sloaners secret santa #chavelink #discord

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Two - The Improper Use of Magical Materials (D.M)

A/N: CHAPTER TWO!! I wonder fi you can all guess what’s going to happen in this chapter from the title alone? Draco deals with some interesting cases, and I am loving writing this series. The love for the prologue and chapter one blew me away. I only hope you love this one just as much!!!

Summary: Coffee equals venting as well as inquisitions over personal lives. Interesting patients have their way of falling into Draco’s lap.

Warnings: mentions of coffee, mentions of procedures, hospitals, injuries, swearing, mentions of food, mutual pining, yearning, an overuse of commas and semi-colons, interesting medical cases.

Word count: 4k

Prologue// Chapter One

By the time Draco has a long enough lull in patients, it’s been a couple of hours and he’s more than ready for a coffee.

The tradition of coffee with her had started through their training; it was how they vented to each other after a particularly long shift that had either been difficult or slow. It was how over the course of their training; their friendship had formed. It was over the coffees and the vents that Draco slowly realised his feelings for her were far from platonic.

(Y/N) stands at the admit desk, chatting to one of the longest working nurses at St. Mungo’s, Lydia. Lydia had seen it all; there was very little that could shock her. Draco thinks out of his eight years at St. Mungo’s, he had only ever seen Lydia speechless from shock twice. Both of those cases had not had positive outcomes.

(Y/N) greets Draco with a smile that almost knocks him breathless. He slots his chart into the discharged box and cracks his knuckles; he grins at (Y/N)’s displeased face, knowing that that particular habit gets on her nerves.

“Are you free now?” She asks; an eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting another rebuff.

Draco nods, “Coffee?”

(Y/N) smiles broadly; another smile to leave him breathless and hopelessly yearning for her as she murmurs her goodbyes to Lydia.

The café for St. Mungo’s is on the very top floor, and Draco thanks every god and deity out there that the hospital board had seen fit to install a lift instead of relying on the stairs. It was useful for practical reasons too; especially transporting patients to different floors and such alongside Draco’s continued avoidance of physical exercise.

It wasn’t an overly large café, but it catered for the Healers and nurses on every floor as well as the steady stream of patients and their families that came through the doors. It constantly smelt like coffee beans; the scent settling within Draco’s bones as he walks to the till with (Y/N) by his side.

Happy to see their usual table by the furthest window empty, Draco heads over there with their tray of freshly brewed coffee. They sit across from each other and share a tired smile; they were coming up to halfway through their shift now. They both loved their job; they couldn’t imagine working anywhere else as anything else but even they couldn’t help but countdown the minutes until they could clock off and go home to their showers and their beds.

Adding a splash of milk to her coffee, (Y/N) asks, “What do you think of the new trainees?”

Draco nods, “I think they’re going to be better than last year for definite.”

(Y/N) nods her head in agreement. Draco grabs a sugar packet from the centre of the table, “What do you think of your student?”

She rolls her eyes fondly, “He’s rich, that’s for sure. The only other person I’ve ever seen with a tailored lab coat is you.”

Draco huffs; tugging at the collar of his lab coat, “It was a gift, thank you very much.”

She laughs, “And you look very dashing.”

Draco turns her nose up at her, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes sparkle with mirth over the rim of her coffee cup; the cup barely concealing the smile on her face. Draco returns the grin in earnest; never truly able to stay mad at her or hold a grudge against for too long.

“How have you been?” She asks; light concern lacing her voice.

“I’ve been okay,” Draco answers; expecting the worry she always has for him. He had been diagnosed with insomnia after the second wizarding war. It came in waves; he could have weeks, even months, where he slept fine, but then he would have periods where sleep was a distant memory.

“Have you been sleeping better? I can always prescribe you something if you need it.”

Draco waves away her offer, “I don’t need medicine to help me sleep.”

“Draco, you have insomnia. You, yourself, have admitted that traditional remedies aren’t helping.”

“(Y/N), I’m fine,” He reaches out for her hand; she lets him take it, “I’m fine. I’m sleeping better, I promise.”

She bites her lip; looking like she so desperately wants to believe him. For a second, Draco thinks she’s going to argue but at the last moment she decides against it. Instead, whispering what she wanted to say at the start of their conversation, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“We see each other nearly every day,” Draco argues.

“We’re so busy, Draco, we don’t talk like we used to.”

Draco sighs; knowing how right she is. If they found themselves on nights together, they would spend most of that shift together – especially if it was a quiet one. They would talk aimlessly about whatever came to their minds; the job, their families, their love life.

To Draco, it felt like his feelings for her were almost inevitable. The longer he spent with her; the longer he thought of her. Their fumble at the Christmas party last year had driven a wedge between them; neither ready to talk about what happened for the fear of losing their crutch. They so heavily relied on the other in terms of emotional release from their jobs; if things went south, what would they do?

Catching sight of the clock, (Y/N) sighs, realising that their conversation was over, “I need to go chase up some labs. As smart as my trainee he is, he’s useless at keeping on top of things.”

She stands; finishing the final few sips of her coffee. Her hand finds its way to Draco’s shoulder where it squeezes it once in goodbye, “I’ll find you at the end of your shift, we can get the tube together.”

He smiles at her, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And he wouldn’t.

------

The first week with the new trainees goes swimmingly. Draco cannot help but compare this year to last year where last year he had to dismiss one Healer immediately based on their bed manner with patients; inappropriate comments flying freely.

The second week with the new trainees gives Draco a breather from needing to watch over them constantly. He starts to spend less time flitting between their patients and more time taking on his own cases whilst still supervising the trainees and their assigned attendings.

As the trainees find their feet, Draco finds it easier to fall back into his routine from before they arrived. Working in Emergency Medicine meant that there was very little leeway for a strict routine, but there was always a lull in the early afternoon that allowed Draco to sneak upstairs to the café and grab some lunch without being pulled in for consultation after consultation.

However, Draco feels that something is off within his very bones. As he lines up to pay for his food and drink, he feels suspicious. As he sits down at the table he usually shares with (Y/N) - admitting to himself that he does miss her presence when he’s eating alone – he feels as if he needs to rush whatever he’s about to eat.

Eight years as a Healer has taught Draco to trust that gut instinct; to follow it to very end to where it leads.

The familiar static of the tannoy system precedes the announcement of his name, “Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two. Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two.”

Draco looks down at his meal sadly; briefly wondering whether the patient would protest to him eating through his trauma. He throws out the food as he rushes from the café, stethoscope clinking around his neck as he amps up his brisk walk to a flat out run.

As he runs to the trauma room, Draco has no idea what awaits him when he arrives in the emergency room. He has no clue as to his patient; their age, gender, ethnicity. As of right now, he couldn’t care – all he needs to know is that there is someone who needs his help.

The patient has already been lifted onto the bed when Draco arrives. Studiously ignoring his growling stomach, he looks to Vera, “What do we have?”

“27 year old Rowan Talbott; injured in a duel between friends. BP and oxygen all fine though his pulse is a little fast.”

Rowan Talbott writhes on the bed in pain, gasping, “It hurts so much.”

“Where does it hurt, Mr. Talbott?” Draco questions; standing over the patient.

“My side! It feels like its burning.”

Draco makes eye contact with the nurse who helps to roll the young man onto his other side. With deft, experienced fingers, Draco examines the patient.

“Mr. Talbott,” Draco calls out over the patients cries, “Can you tell me which spell you were hit with?”

“Entrail-Expelling, I’m sure of it.”

Draco sighs; taking a step back and removing his gloves, “I can assure, Mr. Talbott, you were not hit with the entrail-expelling spell.”

“How do you know?” He demands; face cross.

“For one thing, Mr. Talbott, your entrails are still very much inside of your body. And another, it looks like you were instead hit with the stinging hex which has caused the burning,” Draco looks towards Vera, “Perform the counter-jinx and let him sleep it off?”

Vera nods; her face amused at the sound of disappointment in Draco’s voice.

He tears off the trauma gown; throwing it in the disposal bin. He looks towards the patient who slowly sits up in bed; his face aflame with embarrassment, “So I’m not dying?”

Draco shakes his head, “Not dying.”

Rowan Talbott sags in relief as Vera performs the counter-jinx.

“Rest now, Mr. Talbott, I’ll check on you in an hour or so.”

Rowan Talbott doesn’t reply; his snores fill the room as the porters come to move him to an empty exam room.

Both Draco and Vera chuckle as they leave the room. They return to the admit desk where Draco places his chart on the side.

“There never is a dull day, is there Vera?”

Vera laughs, “The day it is dull here, Draco, is the day I leave.”

“Merlin let’s hope that never happens there. How would we run without you, Vera?”

“Draco Malfoy, you are a flatterer.”

Draco laughs, “I’m going out to grab some lunch. I’m sure there’s a muggle café down the road. I won’t be long.”

Vera nods; waving him off as she’s pulled into another case by another Healer.

Before he can be dragged anywhere, Draco rushes to the break room. There, he grabs his jacket – replacing his lab coat with it and then makes his way to the exit. Through it all, his stomach has been growling like a wild animal; the café down the road would still be open, Draco thinks gratefully as he inhales the crisp autumn air.

At the café, Draco orders a sandwich and a coffee to go. All the while knowing that he would have to eat it on the way back to the hospital should another trauma come in or that he’s needed by someone.

By the time Draco arrives back at the break room; he’s eaten half his sandwich and finished his coffee. Munching on the other half, he doesn’t hesitate to pour another cup of coffee and settle on the break room couch.

A few years back, before Draco had started his training, the emergency room staff were given a television by a patient who was grateful for the saving of his life. After much attempting to get it working in a hospital that was, back then, mostly magical, the TV had become a hit with the nurses. However, no-one dared to switch the channel should something happen that they couldn’t fix, so it played a constant loop of the muggle news.

It’s this that Draco watches as he finishes the last crumbs of his sandwich and the dregs of his coffee. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table and lets himself have a few minutes to himself with his eyes closed; letting the stress of the last few weeks leave his body.

All too soon, however, the usual guilt settles over Draco. In his early days as a trainee, Draco found it exceptionally hard to take for himself. He always had to be helping; he always had to be working. He simply couldn’t sit still. Draco thinks it stems from his family’s involvement in the second wizarding war where they had left the Battle of Hogwarts without sticking around to make sure that the survivors were well cared for.

It’s that thought that has Draco hauling himself off the couch and back into the fray.

“Janice – lovely, lovely, Janice. What do we have free?” Draco asks; always ready to compliment the nurses.

Janice laughs, “Malfoy, you are a flirt,” She hands him a chart, “23 year old female with stomach pain.”

Draco grins at Janice; happily taking the chart from her hands. He knocks on the door to exam room one before entering. He smiles welcomingly at the patient, “Miss Collins, I understand you’re having some stomach pain.”

Miss Collins nods her head, “For the last few days now.”

Draco makes some notes on her chart before putting on some latex gloves. He points to her stomach and asks, “Do you mind?”

Miss Collins shakes her head and lifts her shirt to reveal her stomach, “I don’t mind.”

As Draco examines her; he asks her routine questions that Nurse Marie lists the answers of on her chart. “And there’s no chance you could be pregnant?” He asks; broaching the subject carefully.

She shakes her head, “I got my period last week.”

Draco nods; continuing his examination of her stomach, feeling some tenderness which understandably is causing some discomfort and pain. Draco removes his gloves and thinks through the possible causes of this pain. He smiles down at Miss Collins before addressing Nurse Marie, “Let’s get a blood test and give her anti-nausea potion, thank you. We’ll monitor you over the next couple of hours to see if things get better or worse. How does that sound?”

Miss Collins opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off by a timid voice asking, “Healer Malfoy?”

Draco turns from his examination of Miss Collins to find a trainee stood behind him, “How can I help, Healer Kinghorn?”

Matthew Kinghorn flounders for a moment; trying to find the words to explain his predicament to his superior. Draco frowns at the trainee, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

“Is it urgent?”

Matthew nods, “I’d say so.”

“Is the patient dying?”

“No, but-”

Draco cuts him off impatiently, “Then are you able to handle it?”

Matthew huffs, “With all due respect sir, you need to see this. I don’t want to be the one to pull it out.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrow, “Pull what out?”

-----------

“That is a wand,” Draco states; staring at the x-ray.

Matthew nods wildly; humming his affirmation.

“The patient,” Draco starts, “Has a wand in their rectum.”

“Do you see why I pulled you away?” Matthew asks, “It looks to be 10 inches.”

Draco can’t help the snort that leaves him though he knows he should act more professionally around a trainee. He holds a hand to his mouth as the other points to the image on the lightbox, “Why?”

Matthew shrugs, “The patient wouldn’t say.”

Draco sighs, “Well they’re at risk for a perforation. What room are they in?”

“Exam room three,” Matthew answers.

Draco pulls the x-ray from the lightbox; stuffing it in a file before walking to exam room three. Entering the room – Matthew close behind – Draco finds the patient lying on his front with his knees tucked up to his chest.

“Mr,” Draco pauses; holding his hand out for the chart from Matthew, “Winters, I’m Healer Malfoy. Would you care to tell me what’s happened?”

Mr. Winters groans; his voice full of pain and embarrassment as he replies, “My wand is stuck.”

Draco slips on some gloves before approaching Mr. Winters, “Sir, you know that that isn’t the proper use of your wand.”

“I know that.”

“I’m glad you’re aware.”

Mr. Winters sighs, “I just had an itch that I couldn’t get, and I just looked at my wand and before I thought it through, I was doing it.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Mr. Winters,” Draco murmurs, “I’m just here to help extract your wand, but we need to be careful so please remain as still as possible.”

Mr. Winters nods; trying to relax as much as he can and remain as still as possible. Draco looks to Matthew who remains by the door; watching the scene with wide eyes, “Healer Kinghorn, will you please fetch some lubricant and any tweezers you can find.”

“You’re going to pull it out?!” Mr. Winters cries.

Draco walks around the bed, removing his gloves, and bends so he’s eye level with Mr. Winters, “I think it’s our first option. You lost hold as you were inserting it, that’s correct?”

Mr. Winters nods, so Draco continues, “So I’m going to use the tweezers to try and grab hold of the end of your wand. Should I meet any resistance, however, I am going to have to call a surgeon.”

“I could need surgery?” Mr. Winters shouts.

Draco nods, “It’s a possibility. There is a slight chance of perforation so any resistance, it’s a surgeon.”

Matthew comes bustling back into the exam room carrying everything Draco asked for including a pain potion and relaxation potion. He lays it all out on a tray before wheeling it to the end of Mr. Winters bed.

“Thank you, Healer Kinghorn,” Draco murmurs before turning back to Mr. Winters, “I’m going to give you a pain potion, so you won’t feel a thing, is that okay?”

Mr. Winters nods, holding out a hand for the bottle. Draco pours the right amount into a small cup before handing it to the patient; watching him finish it all before making his way to end of the bed.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Winters?” Draco calls; slipping on some fresh latex gloves.

“Ready,” He answers. Draco nods despite tef cat that the patient can’t see him.

Draco turns to Matthew; his hand out expectantly for the lubricant and the tweezers. Together, they manage to dislodge the item from Mr. Winters; his wand offering little trouble at all. Matthew watches the procedure wide-eyed and in awe as Draco manages to extract Mr. Winters wand.  

He bags Mr. Winters wand as Matthew helps him back onto his side; reminding him that most likely isn’t quite ready to sit on him bum any time soon.

Mr. Winters has tears in his eyes as he thanks both Draco and Matthew. They wave off his thanks before leaving him to sleep off the remaining pain potion in his system; once he wakes he’ll be discharged and given a leaflet on appropriate wand use.

Draco co-signs Matthew’s chart before handing it back to the redheaded trainee. “You did well,” Draco compliments with a smile.

Matthew beams, “Really?”

Draco nods, “You went beyond what I asked you to do and made sure the patient was comfortable. You also recognised that you were out of your depth and you needed help. Past trainees haven’t thought of that; they would go straight in with the procedure and make a mistake. Well done, Matthew.”

Matthew nods; rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as his skin warms with the kind words from Draco. “Thank you, Healer Malfoy,” He replies earnestly.

Draco claps Matthew on the shoulder, “Go get some lunch, Matthew. You don’t know when you’ll be able to eat again.”

Matthew smiles at Draco again before leaving; rushing for the lift to head up to the café.

Draco shakes his head at the eagerness displayed by his trainee, but also pride in the fact that he did think before acting which is vitally important in a job like this. It requires you to think fast and act fast; it seems that Matthew had the talent for both. Draco couldn’t help but wonder how he would be like in a major trauma situation.

Returning to the admit desk, Draco finds that all patients are accounted for and for the first time in a while, he has no immediate need to see a patient – still waiting on test results for them all. He removes his stethoscope from his shoulders as he enters the break room; the television still playing its circuit of the daily muggle news.

(Y/N) sits at the small round table in the middle of the room; her eyes focused on the small screen. The volume always remains low; never playing loud enough for anyone to hear the words leaving the news anchors mouth. Instead, they rely on the red banner travelling across the bottom of the screen from right to left where it announces the breaking news.

“Anything changed since an hour ago?” Draco asks; heading straight for the coffee pot only to find that its empty. He pulls the coffee grounds down from the cupboard and begins to make a fresh pot.

“I don’t think so,” (Y/N) answers, “A celebrity couple is getting divorced; a royal is having a baby, and there’s a debate in the muggle parliament today.”

Draco leans against the counter; waiting for the coffee to brew. He nods, “Nothing new then.”

“I heard about your… impalement,” (Y/N) comments; turning her attention from the television screen to Draco.

“How?”

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow at him, “Lydia.”

“Of course,” Draco rolls his eyes, “I can’t say it wasn’t interesting.”

She snorts, “You always get the interesting ones.”

“(Y/N), you are an attending in emergency trauma surgery. All of your cases are interesting.”

(Y/N) huffs, “But I haven’t seen an impalement in so long!”

“It was barely even an impalement. The patient had an itch he couldn’t reach, that’s all.”

(Y/N) is silent for a minute before bursting into giggles.

“Act professional, (Y/N),” Draco chides but he cannot help the smile at that spreads across his face at the sound of her laughter. Soon enough, he finds himself chuckling along with her; their laughter providing the chorus for the chaos of the emergency room.

(Y/N) wipes her eyes with her sleeve after she finishes laughing, “It’s like what Healer Dorian used to say before she retired.”

“What?”

“If you don’t laugh, it’ll kill you.”

Draco snorts, “There’s some truth to that, but I don’t think Mr. Winters was laughing.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, “I don’t think he will be. I think he’ll choose muggle medicine over ours now to avoid us all.”

He hums, “Most likely, but if he needs us that badly, he’ll come back.”

(Y/N) doesn’t reply; she just shakes her head fondly, hair slipping from its ponytail.

“What shift are you down for next week?” He asks.

She grins at him; her eyes crinkling in the corners, “Why? Do you miss me when I’m not with you?”

He places a hand on his heart and stretches the other out; mimicking a Shakespearian pose, “Dear (Y/N), my heart yearns for you all the time, but it misses you more in your absence. Pray, tell me your shift pattern next week so I know whether to cry tears of happiness or sadness.”

A ball of paper hits his face. Her laughter fills the room, “You’re such an arse, Draco.”

He grins toothily, “And yet you’re friends with me.”

She glares at him playfully, “I’m regretting that decision past me made.”

“I don’t believe you for a second.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m on nights next week.”

Draco pouts; playing the overdramatic lovestruck fool he is, “But when will I see you?”

“When I’m leaving… like now,” She stands from her chair; grabbing her drink and her unfinished charts.

Draco swivels in his chair; watching her leave the break room with his feelings all in disarray as to whether they’re finally going to confront of what is so clearly in front of them.

*********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl​ @detroitobsessed​ @reaganwonders​

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[theodora3022]

Companion Headcanons for Fairy

The original fic can be found here

The sequal hcs can be found here

Summary: You are now Overhaul’s posession. Just like Eri, he have big plans for you. 

Warning: Yandere, implied NSFW, forced aphrodisiac use, non con(not graphic), mentions of forced pregancy, loss of virginity

Kai feeds you healthy food and perform weekly checkups. No way you are getting sick under his watch.

He never refers you by your real name, always calling you “my fairy”.

Gives you a large room to live in, he knows you have claustrophobia, he doesn’t want cabin fever to get to you.

He would fill your cell room with books, to occupy your time while he is gone.

With the quirk cancelling handcuffs on, you cannot escape the heavily guarded Yakuza base.

However it also frustrates Kai because he wants to see you flying around like the fairy you are

So he lets you use your quirk under his supervision. He would take you for flights in the backyards wearing those acrylic wings, you comply to his wishes, terrified of the alternative: He took so much already, not your quirk too. After two or three laps he would take you back to your room and disappear behind the door.

You soon find out he just wants to admire you from a distance. He never touched you unless necessary. When you ask him why, he says he get rashes. Which is such a relief.

Quirk-cancelling cuffs is quickly replaced with a pair of thin silver bracelets. While they have the same effects, you are able to move around more freely. It is a reward of being docile towards Kai. He is happy that his threats work, as you seldom scream.

You learn about Eri when you overheard one of his subordinates come to inform him about her situation.

“Eri? Who is that?” When he sees those sparkles in your eyes once more, Kai felt so weak.

“The granddaughter of my mentor.” “Can I see her?”

He told you tomorrow you will. It is probably good for both of you and Eri. It can lift your spirits, and maybe you can calm down the little girl. You are trapped here, there is no need to worry about leaking info.

When Eri saw you the next day, she was not sure what to do. So you crotched down and smiled at her. It has probably been a long time since the little girl received any genuine affections, so it will not take long for her to warm up to you, the only kind person here.

Soon you began to look forwards to these little playdates. Kai would allow you an hour with her everyday after your daily flight, while he sits on sofa in the corner, watching the two of you. At first Eri seems to be intimidated by his presence, but she soon understands Kai won’t hurt her as long you’re in the same room.

Seeing you attending Eri’s tea party with her stuffed animals, brushing her pale hair, how Eri is able to make you laugh like you used to, gives him a strange sensation. Eri likes to call you “Sister”, which you would respond with a warm “Yes, Eri~” every time. Is that...jealousy? You never spoke his name with such warmth before. You were not even referring him by his first name. Just a cold, business-like “Chisaki”.

When you are back to your cell you expect him to leave, but this time he did not.

“Call me Kai, with that sweet tone.”

You are confused…Which tone?

“Do it now.”

“Kai.” You tried your best to apply honey onyour shaky voice, and it seems to work.

Then you felt a pat on your head. “Good girl.” He is talking to you like you are some domestic pet.

You sighed with relief once the door shuts him out.

Thanks you Eri, Kai now can hear your gleeful laughter again. He shows his gratitude by taking shallow, less hurtful cuts.

You are surprised to find Eri calling you “Mommy” two weeks after your initial encounter. “What happened to sister?” When you start to question why, she just buried her head between her knees, whispers: “Sir Overhaul.”

You are confused. What is the meaning of this? Being a woman in her twenties, you guess it is normal for a toddler like Eri to call you mother. So you pay that no more attention.

Until Kai starts to touch you whenever he can. It started with the lingering finger when he took your blood sample, to brushing his knuckles against your cheek. From gloved hands to bare. It is not hard to see he is trying to get more comfortable with touching you, it terrified you immensely. You don’t even give him rashes like he once said. That is when you planned your escape. You are going to break these bracelets, grab Eri, and get the hell out of this damp basement before the Yakuza boss violates your flesh.

Kai needs a successor to his grand plan, since he knows he is not going to accomplish it during his limited time. And you are going to provide him a healthy son. A child can also bond you to him forever and give you something to do during the day. He aleady knows how a caring mother you can be by watching you play with Eri.

You do not have much information about the base structure, but you need to try. The only route you remember is how to get to Eri’s room from your cell. You could have a better understanding if Kai has not blindfolded you every time you have to take your daily flight.

When Kai “accidentally” left your door unlocked, you took the chance without hesitation.

You do not know he needs an excuse to punish you. Escaping sounds legitimate.

You decided to worry about those bracelets later, when you are back into the sunlight, far from Overhaul.

Your heart sank when you see Chrono’s white figure in front of Eri’s door. You cannot see his face with that mask, but you swear he is smiling when he injected you something from his pocketed syringe.

You woke up in a room that greatly resembles an operation room, tied to a chair beside the operating table. Kai stood silently in the doorway.

This is your first time seeing his face without masks, although you had been here nearly a month. If he were not your captor, you would call him handsome.

“Do you know why you’re here, fairy?” Putting both of his hands on your shoulders from behind, Kai said in an awfully calm tone. You expected him to mad; this coolness is much more unsettling.

“Because you tried to leave me.” Without waiting for your answer, he untied your ropes. “Go lie down on the operating table.”

You comply, shivering.

Suddenly you feel you are burning, and there is this itch in your heart. You would start to pant, while Kai look down you with amuse in his gold eyes.

You might be a virgin, but you are no saint. You recognized this sensation well, and you immediately figured what was in Chrono’s syringe.

“You bastard! You gave me aphrodisiac?”

This is the first time you act like your former bold self. Usually you are too scared to even maintain eye contact with Kai.

You kept on telling yourself that you need to maintain composure, as you turned to the other side to ignore him.

It has been thirty minutes and Kai is impressed by your resilience. So those hero training did do some good after all. Chrono had injected you a large dose, enough for creatures twice your size, yet all you is clenching your teeth. So strong willed. He expects you to be begging for him now.

Too bad you will not remember how you lost your virginity, he thought as he put you out with chloroform.  

You woke up alone in your bed the next morning, in pyjamas. Your back feels sour, like you just did three hundred sit-ups. You are also littered with bruises. Great, just great. Kai took just about everything you had. You were not sure if he used a condom or not, you prayed the germaphobe had. The last thing you want is carrying that jerk’s child.

Kai took your hand in his when he come to collect you for your daily flights. His expression is still stoic, as if nothing had happened the previous day.

At your playdate with Eri after, instead of sitting in the corner couch as usual, he decides to sit on the ground, just inches away from Eri and you. She screams and run into your arms, trembling. You never know why Eri is so afraid of Kai (the bandages on her limbs let you know it’s nothing good) , so you pat her back gently. “It’s okay, dear Eri.”

“Eri, would you like a little sibling? Would you like to be a big sister?”

The trembling seized; those watery eyes looks up to yours. Now you understand why he made Eri call you “Mommy”: to prep you for the real deal. Recalling the incidents yesterday, you feel violated and used.

“Yes! Sir Overhaul!” Eri squeals. The trembling resumed. All you can do is glare at him with anger as you soothe the shacking girl in your embrace. You read Eri a story to distract her. Kai’s lips curl upwards under his mask: Look at you, you already know how to be a good mother! As you hugged Eri goodbye, he pulled you out of the room rather roughly.

You expect him to lock you back to your room, but he took you to his office instead.

“Sit.” Taking off his gloves, he pats his thighs lightly after taking a seat behind the desk.

Once you are secured on his lap, he pulled you close to his chest and starts doing paperwork.

This situation lasted for hours. Your legs are turning numb.

“Chisaki?” “You know what to call me.” “K-kai. Did you wear a condom...yesterday?” Although you are already aware of the terrifying answer, you need to be absolutely sure.

“How can you give me an heir if I do? I thought you are wiser than this, my fairy.” Playing with your hair, Kai enjoys your horrid expression. Putting the pen down, he strokes your abdomen with the free hand. “If we’re lucky, I can meet the little one in nine months.”

You feel like his personal incubator, but there’s nothing you can do about it.

#bnha x reader #bnha #bnha overhaul #bnha overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha

[write-orflight]

Like Real People do. Chapter 5

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

Chapter 4

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Very Angsty flashbacks to torture/death,

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N This Chapter is very short and backstory heavy and it’s full of angst so sorry. Message to be added to taglist. Much love, Cia

Chapter 5: What did you bury? 

“Y/N!” You come back to with a start, you are seated on the ground next to your driver’s side door, Spencer is looking into your eyes intensely. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Hotch say?” He asks, helping you on to your feet. You brush off asphalt from your shorts. 

“I have to go to the office.” You say absently, You move to open your driver’s side door. Spencer slams it shut. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you drive when you’re this upset.” He holds his hand out for your car keys, which you reluctantly hand over. He was right, you shouldn’t drive. 

The drive to Quantico is silent, Spencer seeming to know you didn’t want to talk right now. Instead, he kept one of his hands off the wheel and held yours, letting you squeeze as tight as you can. 

When you arrive at the building, Hotch is already waiting in the middle of the bullpen. “Y/N/N.” he says, sadly. You nod at him. “Spencer what’re you doing here?” 

“Umm, we were out for a movie when you called sir. She fainted, I just wanted to make sure she was ok.” 

Hotch nods, choosing not to comment on the date he very clearly interrupted. “Let’s talk in my office, Y/N.” 

You nod, standing up silently to follow Hotch, you spare Spencer a small smile as you walk by but all he does is look back at you with concern. 

You step inside, sitting in the chair in front of hotch’s desk. As soon as you hear the door click you say the first word you’ve said in an hour. 

“No.” 

“Y/N…” Hotch levels, you cut him off. 

“No Hotch, I’m not just going to sit across from that man and tell him exactly what he wants to hear. I-I can’t do that.” You shake, the tears are leaving you involuntarily. Hotch comes to sit next to you grasping your hands 

“I know, Y/N.” Hotch says. “I’m not going to make you.” 

“I’m sensing there’s a but coming.” You say. 

“But…” He says. “I believe if we work his Victimology backwards we can figure out where they are ourselves but that means--” 

“I’d have to tell the team about me?” You ask. He nods. “Ok, call them.” 

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

“Do you have any idea why we’re being called in so late?” Derek asks the group, Emily and JJ shake their heads no, Rossi opts to stay silent. He knew why they were there, it was only a matter of time. He and Hotch knew about Ferguson’s demand but kept it quiet, choosing to not tell you until it was absolutely necessary. Now it seems that day has come. 

Spencer stayed silent. He was worried about you, he’d never seen you this way. Your typically bright, sunny demeanor seemed to dissipate completely as soon as she got that call from Hotch. He didn’t know what i was about and because of that he didn’t know how to help and that hurt. 

Later you, Hotch, and Garcia, file into the conference room. You feel eyes on you as you’d been crying heavily and everyone could tell. You took your seat next to Spencer who’s eyes seem to bore into you more intensely now. You try to avoid eye contact with him as Garcia presents the case

Your case. 

“Gabriel Ferguson, age 46, killed 11 people between the years 1996-1998, All two parent families; with a teenage daughter.” Garcia rattled off. She looked at you awkwardly, before continuing. “He would break in at night, Slitting the parents’, starting with the dad, throats before kidnapping the daughter. Then he would keep the daughter’s hostage for 2-3 weeks before their bodies would turn up asphyxiated, laid with arms crossed over the chest.” 

“Wait, we’re doing the Beechwood Killer case? That case is a decade old.” Derek interjects. “And isn’t he already on death row? Why are we reviewing that sick bastard’s case?” 

“Yea, He killed 2 agents, didn’t he?” Spencer adds. Oh, god… You think. Feeling the bile that was rising in the back of your throat, you grimaced swallowing it down. “But they never found the daughter’s body.” 

“There was no body.” you say quietly. Everyone’s eyes snap to you. Garcia and Hotch look at you sadly,  you nod slightly to let them know you were ok, at least for right now. 

“What do you mean? It completely doesn’t fit his profile to let the daughter live, her body’s still out there, most likely--” Spencer starts, you cut him off. 

“He didn’t let me live!” You snap. Everyone was for sure looking at you now. You swallow the lump in your throat. You sigh. “The FBI did a decent job of covering everything up and sealing the records, and if it were still up to me none of you would have to know about this.” You take a deep heavy sigh before starting. “My mother was Special Agent Alice Y/L/N, she just worked in white collar crimes but my father was Special Agent Noah Y/L/N, he was a profiler for the BAU for years and investigated Ferguson's case with Hotch and Rossi. After a while, My dad started getting threatening letters from Ferguson, telling him to stop looking into him. Of course my dad didn’t listen and well--” You cut yourself off, trying to manage to sob that wanted to rip through your body. “He slit my parent’s throats in front of me and kept me hostage in his basement for 2 weeks before Hotch found me.” You finish, and look up at everyone. They were all looking at you with such pity,  Garcia had tears in her eyes. Spencer looked livid, like he was boiling mad. “They never found the first family's bodies, He’s agreed to reveal where they are if I-- if I come talk to him. Guys, I-I can’t--” The tears you were trying to hold back were coming out of the woodwork now. Spencer's hand instantly finds yours under the table, he lets you squeeze his hand tightly. 

“We’re not going to make you, baby girl.” Derek adds. “We’ll find them, ok?” 

“Gabriel Ferguson's death is scheduled for the 13th, that’s five days from now. I hope I don’t need to stress time being of the essence here.” Everyone shakes their heads. “Alright get to work.” 

Everyone files out of the conference room until it's just you and Spencer. You realize, you were still grasping his hand, you let go. He instantly moves closer to you, wiping the stray tear from your face.

“Are you ready to move yet?” He asks, you shake your head more tears involuntarily falling. “That’s ok, We’ll sit here for a second.” 

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

Spencer drove you home that night, the team deciding it’d be best if you sat this one out. You didn’t want that but when Hotch leveled you with a stern look you left, feeling dejected. 

Spencer walked you to your door, mouth opening several times as if he wanted to say something but he couldn’t find the words. You decide to make it easy on him by opening your arms. He instantly sweeps you into the tightest hug, your arms wrapping around his neck. You stay like that for a moment, stray tears falling involuntarily from your face. You eventually try to pull away but he doesn’t let you get too far. 

“Spence, you’ve gotta let go.” You laugh, sadly. 

“No.” He mumbles into your shoulder. He does release you though, squeezing you one last time.   

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks. “I don’t think you should be alone.”  

“No, you’ve got to help the others, besides I won’t be alone, Garbage is here.” You say, to reassure Spencer, he doesn’t look too convinced to leave you under the supervision of a 9 month old kitten. “Spencer, I’ll be fine. I’m probably going to sleep.” You open your door to go inside, Spencer grabs your hand before you can step out of the doorway. 

“If you need anything at all, you call me.” He says. 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, dad.” You start to close the door but his hand instantly shoots out to stop you. 

“I’m serious, Y/N.” A stern look crossed his face, you’d never seen that look before and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was hot. “Anytime. I’ll be awake.” 

“I will, Spen.” You say. He nods at you once before turning leaving you alone in your apartment. 

You didn’t lie when you said you were tired so as soon as your head hits the pillow, you fall into a deep slumber, Garbage mewling beside you. 

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

It’s been 3 days, and according to Spencer the team wasn’t any closer. You couldn’t blame them, it was a decade old case, the trail had gone cold a while ago. You knew the only way you could help those family’s get closure was facing Gabriel one last time. 

You went to the office despite Hotch telling you to steer clear for a couple days, you had to go tell him you were ready. You stopped by your desk dropping your bag off, you noticed the bullpen was empty. Strange… you think. You head to the conference room, assuming that’s where everyone was. 

You were right, you heard Spencer explaining the geographical profile he’d come up with, nothing could’ve prepared you for when you saw the boards. You were a profiler, you’ve seen crime scene photos before you knew what it looked like when you were working, pinned up pictures of victims, hoping they’d give you some type of clue. You knew this part of the job but nothing prepared you for seeing your parents the way they looked that night and despite your best efforts you were back to that night again. 

“Beloved, I’m sorry you have to see this.” His gravel-like voice whispered softly in your ear. His breath was putrid, making you light headed. You struggled your bound hands, keeping your tongue back so you wouldn’t have to taste the dirty t-shirt he gagged you with. He used the knife to lift your chin slightly. “Usually, I like to do this part separately but something tells me you’re just like your father. So you need to be shown what happens when you’re disobedient. 

He circles around you until he is in front of your father. “I told you not to look for me.” He stands behind him, knife pressing deeply into your dad’s neck. “Anything, you want to say to Beloved?” 

Your dad looks at you with sad, scared eyes. “I love you, Angel. Look away.” 

You shut your eyes tightly, you didn’t see it but you didn't need to. You heard it and to make it worse you felt it. The blood sprayed hitting you in the left side of your face. You didn’t open your eyes, you couldn’t. If you did it was proof this was real. You heard his heavy feet move until they stopped. You assumed in front of your mother. You heard her soft melodic voice one more time. 

“I love you. Do good, Please.” 

Then you heard the same awful noise again. 

When you came back everyone was watching you, waiting for the shoe to drop you assumed. Spencer and Morgan’s bodies now conveniently in front of the board, obstructing the view. Your mother’s words played back in your ear. Do good. Right now, you weren’t doing good. You were being a coward.

“Take it down.” You say, Everyone just looks at you incredulously. 

“Y/N…” Hotch says. 

“Take it down, we weren’t getting anywhere anyway and my parents don’t deserve their last moments on display like that anymore.” 

“But, Y/N, The bodies…” Garcia trails off. 

“I’ll talk to him.” You say. 

“Y/N/N, No--” Spencer interjects.

“It’s not up to you.” You snap. “If I don’t do it then I’m just proving him right, that he still after all this time, has power over me. That I still fear him. I can’t let him win again.” You say looking at the group. “Tell the warden that we’re requesting he be interviewed in an FBI interrogation room.” You tell Hotch. “If I’m doing this it’s my terf, not his.” 

Hotch nods at you. “Of course, whatever you want.” 

You nod, walking out of the conference room, preparing yourself to walk into the lion’s den.  

Taglist: @haylaansmi​     @yoruebeautiful​ @kianagilder-blog​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @bihoeofmanyfandoms @dreamer7black​ @baby-banana​ @drreidshands​ @blameitonthenight21​ @slyskyeey​ @liaabsurd​ @di-essere-amato​ @oliviamaerose​

#spencer reid x reader smut #spencer x reader smut #bau x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadows And Pills - 1

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it. If you have any questions, please feel free to message me or send me an ask.

Thank you to @thoughtslikeaminefield and @glassjacket . I would not have made it through this story and would honestly not be here today with the two of you. I will never be able to tell you how much you mean to me.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

1

Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all.

Alexa comes away with a shadow.

In the weeks following the disaster, the public equally lauds and decries the Avengers, but while their opinions are divided over the heroes, the villain is universally denounced as nothing short of Satan himself, and the city throws an actual celebration the day Thor takes Loki back to Asgard to face the justice of their people.

Alexa, having not turned on her television since the day she got home from the hospital, ignores the boisterous celebrants and goes about her shopping, earbuds firmly in place, frown lines now permanently etched between her eyes and around her pinched lips.

“Routine will help you through some of the worst days,” her therapist tells her during one session. “Something familiar and safe to retreat to when the flashbacks are the worst. Just give it a try,” he adds at her disbelieving grimace.

And so she sets a routine.

Morning Routine: wake up. Ignore alarm, lie in bed an extra thirty minutes or so. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast. Take meds (this one she never skips or shirks). Find something to wear. Stare at it for another ten minutes. Eventually get dressed. Contemplate keys for another fifteen minutes. Leave the goddamned apartment already.

Her routine has varying results, although she does admit to her therapist that life is marginally more bearable with the routine than without.

“It’s nice to have something to look forward to for the next day.”

Her therapist can’t quite hide his grimace at her flat, deadened tone, but she’s not being sarcastic or rude. She finds that going to bed at night is a trifle easier when she knows what’s going to happen the next day.

“So, who are we up to today?” the doctor asks, switching the subject with awkward abruptness. It’s been six weeks since Hell came to New York, and during their twice-weekly meetings, her therapist suggests going through each of the people she saw die in front of her that day, to get closure...or say goodbye...or something.

Sometimes Alexa wonders whether he just wants to hear the details for his own perverse pleasure.

“Brenda.”

Alexa robotically begins to list the personal details she knows...knew...about her floor manager. Unlike the mail room intern she discussed at their last meeting, the list for Brenda goes on for a while. She’s worked with Brenda since she started at the company, learning most of what she knows about her current job from the woman.

Brenda was kind, sharply intelligent, and mothering to everyone under her supervision, and yet she did it in a way that didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. She balanced work and a family long and well enough to both receive regular promotions within the company and also, very recently, become a new grandmother.

The backs of Alexa’s eyes sting as she remembers the photo Brenda showed her not twenty minutes before part of the building collapsed on top of half the department. Her jaw locks as the scene plays before her eyes again, the explosions and shrieks of metal drowning out the shrieks of the people only five feet away.

She closes her eyes, but there’s no pause button to freeze the scene, no power button to shut the images off as she turns in her memory and runs, making it to the stairwell and slamming the door open, turning back and screaming for Brenda, straining her eyes through the smoke and dust and mountains of falling debris. Brenda is running, reaching for Alexa even though she seems miles away, and then one of the file cabinets is thrown over, propelled faster and harder than should be possible, and...and…

And then Brenda isn’t running anymore. Her outstretched hand, the only part of her that wasn't crushed by office furniture, spasms against the ruined carpet, as if it thinks it’s reached its destination and is grasping at its savior.

Alexa’s hand tingles, and her fingers lock into her palm, nails fitting easily into the little grooves she dug there weeks ago. No blood, she only dug that deep once, but the furrows remain as permanently etched there as the frown lines on her face.

Alexa struggles to take in a labored breath as her therapist watches her with the appropriate amount of professional, clinical sympathy and detachment.

“Do your counting,” he reminds her.

How could she forget? She counts to three once, letting a breath out at the end. She repeats the process twice more, ignoring her therapist’s brief flash of annoyance at her departure from his “system.” But, for once, he doesn’t ask her why she has to deviate from the standard one-to-ten method and just lets her do the goddamned counting in peace.

Small blessings.

“Have you had any flashbacks since our last session?”

She stares at him, letting her gaze rest heavy and disbelieving as she turns his question over. She’s been averaging about five flashbacks a day, triggered by everything from accidentally brushing a stranger on the sidewalk (Jim knocking past her to get down the stairs just as the door on the stairwell behind her explodes inward; more shrieking, then falling, then dark) to lifting a carton of cold milk from the shelf at the grocery (that impossibly cold hand grasping hers, pulling her up from the rubble, bringing her face to face with...something...something in the...shadows, it was so dark there, and…).

“Yeah. I’ve had some flashbacks since our last session.”

“What sort of coping strategies did you use?”

He’s not even meeting her eyes now, just getting notes down on that damned pad. The scratching of his pen grates into her bones, and Alexa grits her teeth as she glares.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

One, two, three.

Breathe.

She slowly recites the list of strategies he suggested during a previous session, none of which have proven particularly effective at lessening the frequency of the episodes, but most of which she grudgingly admits provide some slight relief afterwards and allow her to refocus her mind on the present rather than dwelling in the memory.

“And the shadows?”

How can he get this wrong every time when he’s taking all those fucking notes?

“Still just the one.”

“Has it manifested in any other way? Asked you to do anything? Do you feel different in any way when you notice it?”

There’s a distasteful eagerness to his words that always turns Alexa’s stomach, and she has to physically bite into her tongue to keep from asking what kind of bonus he gets for each symptom she shows of different mental illnesses.

“It’s just there sometimes. I..” She hesitates, feeling vaguely nauseated from his questions, but she has to be honest, right? Because, ultimately, it’s his job to help her, and she’s never going to get through this by hiding symptoms. He can���t help fix her if he doesn’t know what’s broken, and he did suggest the routine, so, okay, he gets a pass for this one.

“I still mostly only see it before I’m falling asleep. I’ve started seeing it in the late afternoon, as well, not often, but sometimes. Always in shadows that are already there. It doesn’t talk or anything, doesn’t really have any face or form except for vaguely person-shaped, but it...it watches me. And it’s...denser than it was last week. More...it’s thicker than it was, like when you see wispy clouds kind of...gather and turn into storm clouds?”

He nods, his pen whizzing over the legal pad he records their session notes on. “So, you feel threatened by the shadow? Like it’s storm clouds gathering to...what? It feels menacing?”

But, like most of the questions Alexa fences in this office, this one isn’t easily answered.

“It feels like it’s watching me, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I don’t...I don’t know if it’s menacing, exactly. Like, it feels potentially dangerous, but I can’t tell if it’s for me. I don’t know. It’s just...darker and more there this week, but it doesn’t do anything, and I don’t feel different, and it doesn’t speak to me. I. Don’t. Hear. Voices.”

She clips off each word at the end of her rant separately and precisely, repeating her counting in her head, and she forces her breathing to even out. The doctor is just doing his job, he’s just trying to help, he’s supposed to ask these questions, it’s how he helps-

“Hmm. I’ll have to consider that between now and our next meeting. In the meantime, go ahead and move up to the next dosage step with your meds, keep it on the escalating schedule we set.”

You set, she thinks mutinously for a moment before internally shaking her head. She nods, biting her tongue once more. She’s going to have a permanent indentation there as well, at this rate.

“Any side effects? Itching, swelling, difficulty breathing? Any unreasonable lethargy or detachment?”

“I mean...I don’t really have anything to attach to at this point, so…”

He frowns at her again, and she wonders if he’s going to crank up her dosage two notches instead of one.

“Are you having what you feel are typical emotional responses to everyday stimuli? Have you laughed or smiled at anything yet? How long has it been since you emotionally felt anything besides the frustration and panic?”

And, somehow, this question is difficult, too. She struggles through, trying to find a balance between honesty and not making herself look like a complete failure who can't function in life. She doesn’t help her case when she admits she hasn’t followed many of his suggestions beyond establishing a routine.

“Not even exercising?” he asks, his disappointment palpable.

When she silently shakes her head, her lips pinched tight against his disapproval, he shakes his head with a sigh that sings of ultimate betrayal. Instead of berating her as usual, the doctor frowns and looks down at his notes, considering them silently. He clicks his tongue against his teeth for a moment before switching over to end-session mode, robotically delivering his closing remarks, his typical reminders to keep her meds on a strict schedule at the exact time every day, to avoid all alcohol and unprescribed drugs, to keep her diet as clean and unprocessed as possible, and to get plenty of exercise. Even this last bit is delivered with a sharply clinical detachment, as if she has driven him to the brink of her own psychoses by stubbornly refusing to accept his help.

There is a short, silent moment between them where they refuse to look at each other, the doctor perusing his notes once more while Alexa examines the wrinkles creased into her jeans from lack of folding. The doctor flips pages over in his legal pad and slaps the cover shut sharply, breaking the standoff with one last, dismissive comment.

“Routine, Alexa. Stick to the routine. If it’s what brings you comfort, if that's the one thing you’re taking away from these sessions that actually helps, then stick with it. I’ll see you Thursday afternoon.”

….

Her afternoons vary, according to her therapy schedule. Her sessions take roughly an hour and a half, so that’s one block of time she doesn’t have to try and fill. On the days she isn’t having her skull cracked open, she can sometimes force herself to work on the files her company sends her way. Grunt work, brainless stuff that any first-year intern could do, but it keeps her on the payroll and covered by health insurance until the doctor clears her to return to the office.

Not that there’s an office to return to yet.

Grocery shopping for food she’ll pretend to eat later, making excuses to stay out of the apartment a little longer each day, watching the shadows of the buildings grow darker and longer until the sunlight disappears from the streets.

And the other shadow, the darkest of all, thick and solid against the brick and stone, pacing her, keeping track as she wanders through the broken city blocks. Sometimes she walks a little faster, pretends to not notice the black spot. Sometimes she pretends it’s keeping her company. With the most conversation she’s had in weeks taking place in her therapy sessions, she occasionally finds the imaginary company of her shadow stalker to be more pleasant than menacing.

Occasionally.

Eventually, though, she and her chimerical companion head back to the silent, encroaching walls of her apartment to begin the night routine.

…

Night Routine: laundry. Pretend to eat dinner. Shower. Finish laundry. Clean already clean kitchen. Another shower (on the bad days, the ash and debris won’t wash off). Rearrange already arranged closet. Braid hair. Take meds, do not skip, no matter how much they screw up her sleep, because they help. They do. Settle into bed. Stare at the wall. Adjust pillows. Re-settle. Stare at the shadow. Start to drift off, slide into a flashback, scream back to full consciousness. Watch the shadow. Doze. Awaken from a fucked up nightmare she can only partially remember. Repeat ad nauseum.

Really, if Alexa could just skip the nights and go straight into morning, that’d be great. Mornings are tedious but tolerable. Afternoons are blurry and tense, especially therapy days, but nights…

Nights just won't shut down.

The drugs are partially responsible, the doctor has told her multiple times. The medicine can either make sleeping more difficult, or it can act like a sedative, dragging and holding her down. Honestly, she’s getting kind of mixed results. It’s difficult to stay awake, easy to slip under, but then she can’t stay asleep for very long, jerking back to consciousness in something close to full panic, unable to figure out if it’s the drugs or the dreams that’s pushing her to the edge.

Because the fucked up dreams...well, that’s all on her and her broken brain. She stopped bringing up the dreams in therapy after the first couple of weeks of sessions. The doctor seemed hell bent on steering Alexa towards the possibility that she was experiencing waking hallucinations, but there’s no way she could possibly be awake for all this shit. Maybe some of the flashbacks, but not…

Not…

Her brain isn’t that broken.

No. No, she can tell from the way she jerks to consciousness afterwards, she knows she’s asleep. Yeah, she’s unstable and has flashbacks, but she’s not delusional. They’re dreams.

Every night.

About…

Something.

Okay, sometimes she can remember. Sometimes the meds dull her down so much she forgets what day it is, but sometimes she can hold on to a detail or two. Cold, slender fingers, impossibly strong. A flash of bright blue that sends nausea racing through her entire body (who knew your toes could feel nauseated?) or a glimpse of bottle green that, conversely, thrills her to her soul. A smooth, velvet voice that penetrates every layer of her being, down to the deepest recesses. Darkness descending...a sense of dreadful awe…

And sometimes she can remember every unhinged detail with a terrifying clarity that she will never even consider mentioning to the therapist. Not if she likes her jacket sleeves to fit properly.

There’s honesty, and then there’s idiocy.

The shadow is larger tonight. Taller, a little broader, definitely denser. She would say looming, even, but it’s not quite that large.

Not quite.

She stares at it openly, no longer trying to avoid acknowledging its presence. What's the point? The doctor knows about it, and it’s not like she’s talking to it. She’s not that far gone yet. And she hasn't lied to the doctor, either. The shadow does watch her, like it’s waiting, gathering. Convalescing. But it hasn't ever talked to her.

She does not hear voices.

She yawns and rolls her shoulders, left then right, sliding a little lower in bed, searching for a cooler place between the sheets. Movement catches her eye, and she looks up as the shadow shifts, leaning left then right, and seems to…

Grow?

No, it’s never moved before. She’s pretty sure she’s never seen it move, but now it pulses and raises up, stretching-

No. No. Sourceless shadows don’t move. They don’t grow, they don’t shift, they don’t-

The shadow stretches upwards abruptly, definitely looming now, and Alexa hits the wall behind the bed, scrambling backwards in a blind panic as she realizes the shadow isn’t growing.

It’s coming closer.

Her breathing speeds up, but her limbs are heavy and dull with narcotic stupor. The foot of her bed darkens as the shadow creeps even closer, and she opens her mouth to protest, to scream, to say something, but her tongue is numb and stupid with the acrid, coppery tang of fear and pharmaceuticals, and she hates, hates this kind of dream where she can’t speak, can't move and she can barely breathe, and...and…

The shadow reaches out, stretches over her foot and slides up her calf in a clammy, viscous caress that tightens on her knee and pulls her several inches down the bed as her throat closes.

Do not shrink from Me. It is not your fear I crave, but your adoration. Come to Me, allow yourself to move past the fear and embrace what I wish to grant you.

Horror, deep and instinctual, floods her veins. Alexa feels the voice more than hears it, and it awakens an ancient fear that finally, though futilely, awakens her drugged limbs. She claws at her sheets uselessly as the shadow moves over her, a freezing oil slick that oozes against her skin as if her blankets and clothes weren’t even there, sending shivers to the very marrow of her bones as her gorge rises, and she chokes on the bile that singes the back of her throat. She can’t fight, can’t move against this intangible force, but neither will her terror let her sink past the fear to blissful unawareness.

Give over. Let go of your stubborn fear that tethers you to this useless reality. Allow Me entrance, and I will grant you the relief you seek. Release your grip on the world that cares nothing for you, and I shall bestow upon you the peace you so desperately crave.

Her skin raises in gooseflesh everywhere the shadow crosses, and her stomach turns as it squeezes its way up her torso, her chest, her throat, slipping over her lips in a sick parody of a lover’s caress. She opens her mouth - to scream, to breathe, to do something - and the shadow plunges inwards, invading her mouth, her throat, coating her inside and out with a thick, glutinous sensation that leaves her mouth hanging obscenely open, tongue thrashing, while her mind screams useless denials.

Submit to Me what you see I can easily take, give Me My due. Give over, drown in Me, and I will save you from this miserable existence.

And she is drowning, the air pressed from her lungs as a dark heaviness settles solidly over her. Her arms are forced over her head, and she is strung out on her twisted sheets, writhing under the weight of the shadow as it presses over every surface, against every entrance. No matter how she strains, her legs are gradually forced apart. The darkness’s lack of speed is affected, some barely functioning bit of her brain whispers to her; it could take her as swiftly as it cares to and is only moving slowly because it wants her to suffer, wants to taste her anguish. She has no chance against the shadow, she can’t even touch it, really she could just save herself the anxiety and fear and just-

NO.

She twists as hard as she can, but the shadow simply moves with her, flows over her, waits until she takes another breath, and then surges between her thighs, driving her torso off the bed with the force of its thrust. Every cell in her body locks, not in pain, but in complete revulsion. And then again, and again, cruel in the thoroughness of its violation, covering and saturating every crevice of her being, coating and tainting everything it touches.

Wrong, can't...stop, stop, stop, wrong, can’t...God, please…

You cannot rely on yourself, on your own mind for proper guidance. Let Me protect you. Let Me save you from yourself.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just stop, please…please-

The alarm clock shrieks right in her goddamned ear, and she can breathe and move and scream and goddammit, she fucking hates those dreams that send her careening onto the floor, scrambling for cover when she can’t even remember what she's running from.

Her morning routine is already in shambles. There’s no ignoring the alarm clock today. A morning shower maybe, to wash off the sticky aftermath of night sweats, definitely, but no lying about, staring at the walls in a sleep-daze. Definitely washing the sheets tonight, too.

She surveys what she can see of her bed from her crumpled position on the floor in front of the closet and sighs. Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare to tear up the covers that badly. She thinks for a moment of trying a little harder to remember, to recall some piece of the dream, but then her stomach flips over, and she summarily rejects that idea in favor of caffeination and medication.

She allows herself another few minutes on the floor, waiting until her respiratory and heart rates return to a less alarming pace before climbing to her quivering knees. The shadow darkens the far corner of the room, as innocuous as always. Though she doesn’t know why, she can’t help an involuntary flinch when she first sees it. It’s not normally present in the morning, at least, she doesn’t think so...well, she can't remember the shadow being so dark in the mornings, at least. But...

She clears her throat against the thickness that seems to coat it suddenly, and readjusts her plan to include a glass of water before she starts in on the coffee. She realizes after another long moment of staring that her hands are trembling along with her legs. Her jaw clenches, and she knows she’s being ridiculous. It’s a damned shadow. It just sits there. It’s a minor manifestation of a mild psychosis secondary to major psychological trauma. It’s just a damned dark spot; it doesn’t change, doesn't want her to do anything, and it definitely doesn’t fucking talk to her.

She. Does. Not. Hear. Voices.

…

Up Now: 2

#mcu #mcu fic #loki #dark loki #rape #torture #abust #self harm #negative portrayal of psychological services #negative portrayal of mental health professional #hallucinations #stalking #supernatural horror #prescription drug use #prescription drug abuse #mental illness #ptsd #flashbacks of violence #gaslighting #physical and mental exhaustion #denial #self neglect #isolation #mental spiraling #mental abuse #emotional abuse #original chracter #original female character

[thelastspeecher]

Pirate AU - Shore Leave

A coupla times this week I randomly got inspired to write some Pirate AU stuff.  And I got some good news yesterday, so I decided I’d post the stuff I wrote.  Like a gift to myself, that kind of thing.

So here’s some more Pirate AU content, but most importantly, some Pirate AU Stangie content.  Plus a bit of bonus Shermie content.  Enjoy.

(For context, this takes place a few years after this ficlet.)

——————————————————————————————

              “Thanks for watching the kids, Maria,” Stan whispered. “You can head home.”  Maria got up from the kitchen table.  On her way out, she tsked at Angie.

              “You know better, mija.  Be smarter and faster next time.”

              “Of course, Maria,” Angie said.  Maria shook her head disapprovingly one last time, then left.

              “Sit down, you gotta get off your feet,” Stan instructed his wife.  Angie obediently took a seat at the table.  Stan sat next to her.  “Angie.”

              “It’s a good thing I’m pregnant,” Angie said jovially.  Stan scowled.

              “Then we must be defining ‘good thing’ differently,” he growled.

              “If I wasn’t pregnant, I wouldn’t have been able to delay ‘em hangin’ me,” Angie said.  “Without that, you ‘n the crew wouldn’t have rescued me from the clink in time.”

              “You got caught pirating!” Stan snapped.  “You were about to be hanged!  Yeah, you were able to delay it this time, but next time?” Silently, he thanked whatever deity he believed in that day that they had come back from the rescue mission late enough the kids were asleep.

              Don’t want ‘em to see their parents fight. And judging by Angie’s already frustrated expression, this was definitely going to be a fight.

              “There won’t be a next time.”

              “You’re damn right.”  Stan met Angie’s eyes squarely.  “‘Cause you’re giving up piracy.”  Angie’s eyes flashed with anger.

              “You have no right-”

              “To what?  Want my wife safe?  Want my kids to grow up with both parents?  Angie, I can’t- I can’t live like this anymore!  I can’t watch you go to sea, knowing that you might not come back.  I love you too damn much to let you keep throwing your life away like this!”

              “This is the first time I’ve been caught,” Angie said, but her voice lacked some of the bite it had earlier.

              “Now that it’s happened once, it’s gonna happen again.”  Stan reached out and took ahold of one of Angie’s hands.  He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, feeling the thick scars from years of piracy.  “There are some injuries that, when you recover from ‘em, you’re never the same. You’ve had a lot of those.  It’s already started catching up with you. You know that.”  Angie looked away.

              “I…”

              “Give me a single reason you can’t leave piracy.”

              “You know my reasons.”

              “They were reasons you had when you first started. But they don’t matter anymore, Ang! Your name – your real one – got cleared. You’ve got a family and a home. You’ve got money.  Give me a reason that still applies.”

              “I…”  Angie looked down at the floor.  After a moment, she sighed.  Without saying a word, she got up and walked away.

              Shit.  Did I overstep?  Stan started to get up.  No. He sat back down.  Give her a bit of space.  You know how she is.  When a few minutes had passed, Stan couldn’t hold himself back any longer.  He followed her outside.  In the light of the full moon, he could see her talking to Dan. He walked over.

              “Thanks fer savin’ me,” Angie said quietly.  “Not just- not just tonight.  All those other times.  I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t fer you.”  Wordlessly, Dan enveloped her in a hug.  “Take good care of her, Dan,” Angie said, her voice cracking with emotion. They broke apart.  Dan ruffled Angie’s hair, nodded at Stan, and began to walk down the road that led to town.

              “What was that about?” Stan asked.  Angie’s shoulders shook.  “Ang, is everything all right?”

              “No!  I’m- I’m pregnant, I’m sure it’s twins again, I was almost hanged tonight, and I just gave up everything I spent most of my life buildin’ up!” Angie snapped.

              “You…”

              “Dan’s goin’ to run Sweet Viola fer a few months before easin’ her out of the game.”  Angie’s head drooped.  “This pirate king is hangin’ up her crown.”

              “Angie.”  Stan tilted Angie’s chin to look into her eyes.  Eyes the color of the sea.  “Thank you.”

              “You never thank folks,” Angie mumbled.

              “That’s how you know I’m serious.”  Stan grinned.  “And you’re not giving up all the shit you spent so long on.  You’ve still got me.  You’ve still got the kids.  All five of ‘em.”

              “No, darlin’, it’s definitely goin’ to be six,” Angie insisted.

              “What makes you so sure?”

              “A woman knows.”

              “If you say so.”

              “That’s no way to talk to yer captain.”

              “You just gave up your ship,” Stan pointed out. Angie looked away.  Stan wrapped an arm around her shoulders.  “I’m just kidding, babe.  You’ll always be my captain.”

              “Damn straight,” Angie muttered.  “By the way, I might be givin’ up piracy, but I ain’t givin’ up thievery.”

              “Good,” Stan said.  “I’m gonna need your help to keep the shop stocked.”  Angie managed a soft laugh.  The two stayed outside.  Their home was atop a seaside cliff, from which they could see the dark ocean reflecting the pale moonlight.

              Angie buried her head in Stan’s shirt, crying, as her ship disappeared over the horizon for the last time.

-----

              They walked past a shop with a number of nice dresses in the storefront window.  Promptly, Danny and Daisy made a beeline for it, cooing over the fancy fabrics.  The whole family was in town to run a few errands.  Stan glanced at his wife.  Angie wasn’t happy she had been dragged out of the house, but Emmett refused to go anywhere without her.

              “Mama, look!” Danny said excitedly, pointing at the dresses.  Angie forced a smile.

              “Yes, dear, they’re very nice.”

��             “You should get it!  It would look so pretty on you!”

              “She’s got a point,” Stan whispered to her. Angie sighed heavily.

              “It would be nice to have some more clothin’ options.  I noticed the other day that I don’t have many dresses.”

              “What are you talking about?  You’ve got plenty!”

              “Yes, fer this!”  Angie gestured to her enormous baby bump.  With how big she was getting, Stan had finally begun to agree Angie was likely right, that they were having twins for a third time.  “But after I give birth?  Most of the clothes what ‘ll fit me were fer workin’ on the ship.”

              “So, something that a nice housewife wouldn’t wear,” Stan said.  Angie nodded. “Well, want me to treat you to somethin’ nice?”  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “I don’t think even you can steal a whole dress in public without bein’ caught, darlin’.”

              “I wasn’t gonna steal it.  I was gonna buy it.”

              “Buy it?”  Angie put her hands on her hips.  “Who are you and what have ya done with my husband?” she asked, aghast. Stan laughed.  “It’s prob’ly expensive.  I’m fine.”

              “After the kids are born and you’re back to normal, I’ll get you somethin’ fancy, okay?” Stan said.  He held out his arm.  Angie took it with a smile.

              “All right.  If ya insist.”  She leaned in to talk quietly.  “Darlin’, in all seriousness, yer okay with buyin’ somethin’ rather than stealin’ it?”

              “Ang, I haven’t done much crime ashore.  Only small stuff I know I can get away with. I didn’t wanna risk getting caught and leaving the kids all alone while you were at sea.”

              “…Right.”  Angie sighed again.  “I keep forgettin’ how little I’ve been on land with you ‘n the kids.”

              “You’ve got plenty of time to catch up on everything.”

              “Yes.  Since I’m now permanently on shore leave.”  Angie raised her voice.  “Girls, leave the dresses alone, we have to go to the market.”  Reluctantly, Danny and Daisy abandoned the dresses and ran back to their parents.

              “Papa, I wanna piggy-back ride,” Daisy whined.  From his perch atop Stan’s shoulders, Emory blew a raspberry at his older sister.

              “Emory’s got littler legs than you do,” Stan said. Daisy crossed her arms.

              “Emmett’s walking just fine!” she argued, gesturing at Emmett, who was holding Stan’s hand.

              “What have we talked about?” Angie asked patiently. Daisy pouted.

              “Being a good big sister,” she muttered.  Angie ruffled her hair.

              “Don’t worry, honey, when we get to the market, you can do some more pocket practice,” she cooed.  Daisy’s eyes lit up.  She nodded. The family continued walking down the street, Danny and Daisy running ahead eagerly.  Stan grinned cheekily at Angie.

              “You’re getting lazy, having the kids pickpocket for you,” he teased.

              “I’m too pregnant to be quiet and get away fast,” Angie said.

              “Fair.”

              “I’m glad that even if yer not willin’ to do much crime lately, yer not extendin’ that to the kidlets.”

              “It’s a lot easier to brush off a six-year-old taking something than a grown adult.”

              “Mm, true enough.”  Angie smoothed the fabric of her dress.  “Once I’m shipshape, I’ll get to restockin’ the shop, darlin’.”  She smirked.  “I’m damn fine at sleight of hand.  Not to mention, no one would accuse the sweet housewife of larceny.”  Stan chuckled.

              “I knew I married the right woman.”

              “Mama, what’s larson?” Emmett asked abruptly. Angie smiled at her son.

              “A grown-up word ya don’t need to worry ‘bout.”

              “Like ‘damn’,” Emory said helpfully.  Stan and Angie grimaced.

              “…We should probably work on cleaning up our sailors’ mouths if we wanna avoid attracting attention,” Stan said quietly. Angie nodded.

              “Agreed.”

-----

              Shermie walked up to the unassuming house.  A large sign outside read “McGucket’s Marine Antiques”.

              This is the right place, then.  Good.  Being a merchant, Shermie had to spend a lot of time away from his family, so he made sure to bring back souvenirs from each trip.  This trip, to a small town called Gravity Falls, had been woefully bereft of potential souvenirs.  As such, he’d been relieved when a local told him about the store on the edge of town full of fun and sparkly things.

              “Ma’am,” he said politely to the woman sitting on the porch, supervising two toddler boys playing on the front lawn.  On either side of her was a basket holding a young infant.  The woman looked up at him curiously.  Recognition flickered in her eyes.  She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, one of the infants began to fuss.  The woman quickly began to soothe the infant.                 Shermie ducked into the house.  The room he was in looked like a proper shop.  Shelves lined the walls, groaning underneath the merchandise.  Some larger items, like a rusted anchor, were set on the floor, with price tags that seemed far too high to Shermie.  Two young girls in the corner giggled to each other as they picked through a box on the floor full of even more small items.

              “Welcome to McGucket’s Marine Antiques!” a voice boomed. A familiar voice.  Shermie’s eyes widened.  He turned.  Behind the store counter was a face he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

              “Stanley?” Shermie croaked.  His little brother gaped.

              “…Shermie?”

              “Stan, what are you- how- you-”  Shermie ran his hands through his hair.  “The people in town said the man who ran this store was named Stan McGucket, not Stan Pines.”  Stan grimaced.

              “Yeah.  Uh…” Stan looked over at the girls in the corner.  “Danny, Daisy.”  The girls looked up.  One had the distinctive Pines nose.  “If anyone comes in, go get your ma and have her handle the customer.”  The girls nodded.  “All right, Shermie, come with me, I’ll answer all your questions.”

              “You better,” Shermie mumbled.  Stan pushed open a door located behind the counter. Shermie followed him into the house proper.  The living room they walked into was cozy and nautical-themed, full of décor that looked like it came from a ship.  Stan gestured to a couch.  Shermie sat down.  Stan sat in a chair across from him.

              “The people in town said this place was run by Stan McGucket because it is.”

              “But how-”

              “I’ll tell you everything, but first, what do you know?” Stan asked.  Shermie raised an eyebrow.

              That’s…interesting.  Stan’s careful dodge reminded Shermie a lot of how his brother would construct lies as a teen.  He would ask what someone knew, then build his lie around that information.  Asking first allowed him to avoid contradicting something known to the person he was lying to.  Hopefully he’s not lying to me now.  I’ve fallen out of practice seeing through Stan’s lies.

              “You were captured by pirates over a decade ago,” Shermie said, deciding to take Stan at face value.  “At some point after you were captured by pirates, Stanford disappeared at sea.”  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, that’s right.”  He sighed.  “Ford actually caught up to the ship I was captive on.  I got free in the fight, but Ford…he…”  Stan looked down at the ground.  “Well, I didn’t see his body, so I’m holding onto the hope that he’s still alive.”

              “Stan…”

              “The people in town know me as Stan McGucket ‘cause that’s my name now,” Stan continued, talking over Shermie.  “While I was captured by pirates, one of them decided he liked my name and took it.  I didn’t like the idea of sharing a name with a pirate, so I took my wife’s last name.”

              That smells like a lie.  Shermie’s brain caught up with what Stan was saying.  Wait, what?

              “You’re married?” Shermie asked.

              “Yeah.  You saw Angie – my wife – outside.  At least, I hope you did.  She said she was watching four of the kids out there.”

              “I…”  Shermie kneaded his forehead.  “Okay. Now I need to know how you met your wife.”

              “After I escaped from the pirates, I decided to stay at sea to look for Ford.  I didn’t- I didn’t wanna come home without him, y’know?”

              “Yes, I do,” Shermie said quietly.

              “I managed to get a spot on board a merchant ship where her brother, Lute, was first mate.  He was looking for her after she got captured by pirates.  Eventually, we found the ship she was on and rescued her.”

              “You…you rescued your future wife from pirates?” Shermie asked, dumbfounded.  Stan nodded. “Why am I not surprised?”  Stan smirked slightly.

              “We both stayed at sea as merchants,” he continued, “and fell in love pretty quick.  After we had the first set of twins, I decided to move ashore with ‘em. Angie, she, uh-”  He laughed quietly.  “She decided to keep sailing.  Even after we had another set of twins.”

              “Really?”

              “What can I say?  I married a free spirit.”

              Makes sense Stan would find someone like himself.

              “When she found out she was pregnant for the third time, though, we had a long talk, and decided that she’d move ashore with me permanently.  I like having her close by.”

              “I’d imagine having her help with the kids would be nice as well.”

              “Eh.  We’ve got some former crewmates in town that love watching the kids,” Stan said with a shrug.  “That’s why we settled here.  With that help, keeping track of the kids wasn’t what I was concerned about.  I missed my wife.”  There was something more, though.  A haunted look lingered in Stan’s eyes.

              “You were worried about her safety,” Shermie said. Stan looked away.  “I can’t blame you.  It’s dangerous to be a merchant.”

              He’s already lost his twin to the sea.  Of course he doesn’t want to lose his wife, too.

              “Yeah, well.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “I’ve got Angie on shore with me now.  We’ve got six great kids.  Life’s pretty good.”

              “Yes.  I can see that.  Mom will be relieved to hear you’re fine.”

              “She’s gonna show up within a week of you telling her,” Stan mumbled.

              “Can you blame her?” Shermie asked.  Stan shook his head.

              “Not after having my own kids, no.”  The door opened.  The woman from outside, who Shermie now knew to be Stan’s wife, Angie, poked her head into the room.

              “Darlin’, should I be plannin’ on an extra person fer dinner?” she asked.  Shermie tried to hide his surprise at Angie’s strong accent.

              “No need,” Shermie said, getting up from the couch. “I need to be going back to my ship before long.  But before I head out, I should do what I came here to do.”

              “What’d you come here for?” Stan asked, getting up as well.

              “To buy something for my kids.”  Shermie raised an eyebrow.  “Might I be able to get a family discount from my little brother that disappeared for ten years?”  Stan sighed heavily.  “If I get a good deal, I might forget to mention you to Mom for a few days…”  A twinkle appeared in Stan’s eye.

              “Make it a week, and I’ll see what I can do.”

              “Deal.”

#it's been a while since I posted Pirate Content so I'm happy to be posting a bit more #idk why this AU is what I got randomly inspired to write for but here we are #with more Pirate Content and Stangie being a cute criminal couple #Pirate AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Shermie Pines #Stangie Family #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 108

Peter whirled to face the speaker. The girl, Angel, stood on the side of the building, wind rustling through the feathers on her wings as she looked at him with curiosity. “How?” he asked, first question to run through his head.

She shrugged. “I have super hearing,” she explained, “and I’m always—attuned? Is that the right word?—to the sound of your voice. And Wade’s voice,” she added.

“Ah.” Peter fidgeted. He both wanted to ask for her help and scream at her to go home. She was way too young for this hero business—but then, he had been too. “Did you figure out what laid eggs in the sewers?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Nah. They’re just going to hatch. I don’t think they’re a threat—well, not to anything other than sewer rats.”

Peter shuddered. He knew way too much about the city’s sewer rats. “Have you seen Wade?” he asked.

“Not today,” Angel answered breezily. She tilted her head to the side, watching him through narrowed eyes. “Why?”

Peter explained what his aunt had done. “And now I need to find him,” he said.

Angel nodded. “This is going to sound strange,” she said cautiously, “but why do you need to find him so badly? He thinks you went out for eggs, right?”

“Right,” said Peter thoughtfully.

“Right.” Angel’s wings flipped lazily for a moment as she considered. She looked back at Peter. “What’s the nearest store that sells both eggs and poblano peppers?” she asked.

Peter blinked. “What?” he asked.

“Wade’s favorite food is Mexican,” Angel explained. Peter nodded; he knew that. “Poblano peppers are one of the most commonly used ingredients in Mexican food. I don’t think he even sees stores that don’t sell them.”

That made a lot of sense, actually. He didn’t want to think too hard about why Angel knew that, but it made sense. “Timon’s,” he said firmly before swinging away. He heard the thundering of wings behind him as she shot through the air following him.

Timon was a second-generation immigrant whose family had, quite literally, built the store from scratch—using debris from buildings around the area because aliens invading New Amsterdam was not a new phenomenon. The store was small. The store was sturdily built. And Timon had contacts that got him the freshest everything and everybody loved his store.

Timon also knew Peter. Back when he was a kid, every time he went into the store the man would give him a cookie filled with pineapple. When Peter became Spiderman, he’d stopped several huge pieces of debris from falling on the cherished store. He liked to think the man would understand what Peter was about to ask him, but he wasn’t sure.

Peter ducked into the small store and the bell above the door rang to announce his presence. “Coming!” Timon’s heavily accented voice called. (The man could speak with the same accent any New Amsterdamer could, but chose to cultivate the accent.)

“Hey, Timon!” Peter said nervously, not sure of the reaction he was going to get.

Timon’s dark face lit up. “Spiderman!” he said, all traces of his foreign accent gone. “Welcome! How can I help you?”

Wow. That was—a surprisingly positive reaction. Encouraged Peter said, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Huge, red, swords on his back?”

“Deadpool!” Timon said, just as excitedly. “Oh, he saved my baby girl last week!”

“Is she all right?” asked Peter, worried.

“Eh, nothing that won’t heal,” Timon said dismissively. “Much better than it could have been. He stopped by earlier—is your friend sick?” Not noticing the shock on Peter’s face (thank goodness for the mask) he continued, “He collapsed and someone had to help him on his way.”

Before Peter could say anything, Angel spoke up. “Do you have cameras?” she asked. “Could we see? If we know who helped him, we’ll know where to look.”

“Of course, of course,” Timon said. “Come with me!” he led them to the office in the back of the little store that the security equipment hooked up.

As Timon was pulling up the video Peter realized that Angel had never said that Wade wasn’t being helped. She’d never said that he was the kind of person who simply didn’t collapse. She’d left Timon with the impression that that they were looking for him because he was ill.

Angel, Peter was coming to realize, was scary.

Peter put his thoughts aside as he watched Wade bend down by a hunched figure on the sidewalk. Watched as something happened to Wade and he began to collapse. Watched as suspiciously familiar multi-jointed metal arms sprang from the figure’s back to wrap up Wade and carry him like a small child.

No. It couldn't be.

But it was. He’d recognize those arms anywhere; he’d helped Dr. Octavius with the algorithms to make them work. And they’d been used to kidnap his boyfriend.

“Thanks, Timon,” Angel said. “We know where to go now.”

“Ah, no problem,” Timon said. “We gotta stick together, eh? I hope your buddy feels better soon.”

“He will,” Angel promised as she gently guided a stunned Peter out of the store.

Dr. Octavius had kidnapped Wade. That meant that Oscorp wanted him for—something. Peter wasn’t aware of any projects the company was working on that would require kidnapping Deadpool. Then again, Peter wasn’t privy to all aspects of the company; there were several bits that were under the direct supervision of Norman. Which meant—kidnapping Wade was a Norman level decision.

He was going to have to hack into the company’s system and find out why. He didn’t want to; he was terrified of what would happen if Norman figured out he did it; but he had to know why and where Wade was taken. He pulled out his phone and made a quick call.

“How can I help you, Mr. Parker?”

As usual, the AI’s voice made Peter grin. “Hey, you remember how you said that you were still looking for a way into the Oscorp mainframe? There’s about to be a breach.”

A moment of silence on the other end of the call. “Mr. Parker, I do not want you to commit a crime for this,” JARVIS told him firmly.

“They took Wade,” Peter said flatly.

Another moment of silence.

“Sir has several new, untraceable rockets in his arsenal. Would you like me to bomb them to the ground?”

Angel’s face turned bright red and she collapsed to the ground, shaking. Peter had the odd idea she was trying not to interrupt his call. “I, uh, don’t actually think there’s a need for that,” Peter hedged.

“Not to worry, Mr. Parker,” JARVIS drawled cheerfully. “I will endeavor to ensure there are no warm bodies in the building first.” Click.

Angel burst out laughing, tears streaming down her face. “I love him!” she squeaked.

Peter gave a weak smile. “Are you busy?” he asked. “Can you help?”

“Hmm. Well, the street children are holed up in their safe place deciding their future and the army gathering under the streets won’t be ready to try and take over New Amsterdam for at least two more days—so, yeah. I can help.”

Peter stared at her for a moment. “Shouldn’t you be trying to do something about that army?” he asked, curiously.

“You would think, but no. Trust me,” Angel said completely serious, “the best way to minimize loss of life here is to let the army commit itself and then chop off the head. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” Peter echoed weakly. He’d have to assume she knew what she was talking about; he needed to rescue Wade. “Let’s go,” he said.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool

[blu-archer]

Go Home

Right... So, I’m obviously new here. I’ve been posting my work previously on AO3 [Usernames: Blu_Magic or Indigo_Archer] and someone told me that I should think about posting them here as well.. So I am here. Just reposting what I have so far and hopefully whoever sees this enjoys it.

Main Pairing: Jimin/Yoongi 

Alternate universe - Hybrids are a thing and magic is real.

Warnings: ??? I really don’t think there is any... like maybe... slight mentions of self esteem issues, if you squint? If that’s a warning?

This is snz based, I haven’t ventured into writing anything else really.

Enjoy it! Hopefully there’s no errors... *Awkward peace signs*

*****

“You look wonderful today.” Taehyung greeted sarcastically as he swirled through the entrance of the staff room, making a beeline for his best friend huddled in the corner away from the other members of staff.

The cat hybrid ignored the comment, letting his chin droop into the palm of his hand. Jimin didn’t need to make himself feel any worse than what he already felt like. He had woken up with a piercing headache and the few off hand sneezes from the day before that he had chalked up to allergies, had definitely not been allergies. Honestly, he wouldn’t have even gone in to work that morning if it hadn’t been for the fact that exam season was rapidly arriving, and he couldn’t just leave his students in the dark. His class was practical based, so leaving it to a substitute was out of the question.

So, there he sat, perched pathetically in his thickest sweater with a face mask and tea while the other staff hovered around in their faculties, discussing how far in the syllabus they were. 

He felt awful at not being more of a help towards that particular conversation, but after an unfortunate occurrence earlier involving scolding coffee, a folder of fresh math assignments and an older woman jam packed full of spite and aggression that had left him in a puddle of tears; he had considered it best that he stuck to the shadows. If something important came up then Hoseok would come find him.

Taehyung gave him a pitying smile before helping himself to a seat beside his friend.

Despite not being a teacher at the academy, the witch got away with a lot. Jimin had been amazed to see how quickly Tae had been accepted on the campus just by speaking with staff – starting with the security guards and working his way all the way up to the principal. He seemed to just flash a boxy smile, and everyone just felt compelled to let him do what he wanted. It was almost as if he had them under a spell, which Jimin would believe if only he didn’t know just how much Taehyung unfortunately sucked at using magic. Jimin wasn’t even amazed at how easily his friend had appeared at his work – in a staff only section – without him knowing. It had become almost second nature to just see Taehyung wherever Jimin was.

Jimin was almost envious of how easily everything seemed to come to Tae – almost. He knew the man too well to be blind to the troubles in the witches life. It was very much the same as how Taehyung knew Jimin.

Which was exactly why he had arrived with whatever spiced potion he thought would help the poor calico hybrid, along with a large familiar grey scarf that filled Jimin with both a sense of ease and longing. Jimin coughed into his fist as Tae wrapped the scarf around him, the younger man smiled knowingly as Jimin huddled into it to try and breathe in his boyfriend’s faded minty scent.

“How many classes do you have left?” Taehyung asked, leaning over so that he could pour the potion into the tea which Jimin clutched close to his chest – choosing to remain oblivious to the dread-filled eyes of the poor sniffling hybrid. He had faith in this potion, unlike the others that he’d tried to recreate away from the supervision of Yoongi and Namjoon, he was almost certain that this one would serve as a source of healing. Like 90% certain…. Maybe 85%.  “Namjoon told me that Yoongi should be back from that business trip this afternoon, apparently it went well so he’s finishing early.”

Jimin nodded, his lips twisting into a soft smile at the thought of the older man’s return. Yoongi had been gone for almost three months. The only thing that was keeping Jimin sane was the old articles of clothing that the Warlocks scent clung too, and the video calls that they had worked in every second or third day. Maybe it was his feline genes kicking in, but Jimin really despised the distance. He would much prefer being able to touch and cuddle up to his boyfriend while the elder would pet him or tell him about his day or.. well anything. Anything with Yoongi was better than not being with him.

“I have my last class in half an hour.” Jimin breathed heavily.

His nose had become completely useless after the first two hours of being awake and had yet to show improvement. He tried not to think about the mess of a person he had been throughout the day. Even his students, as hard working and determined to do their best as they were – had encouraged him to sit on the side lines and not join them in the dance session like he usually would.

“Shouldn’t you be with Namjoon? I thought that mentoring those two meant that you are supposed to be with at least one of them during working hours.”

“Don’t be a grouch.” Tae pouted playfully, tossing an arm over Jimin’s shoulders, and carefully reaching up to scratch behind the calico’s ears. “Namjoon had to guest lecture an extra class at the university, so he let me go. Why don’t we head back to my place when you’re done? Jungkook and Hoseok won’t mind. Jungkook has actually missed seeing you, I don’t think he knows as many other hybrids as he claims. If you want to go now I can ask Hobi to cover your class?”

Jimin pursed his lips, gingerly swirling his tea that had taken on an odd vermillion shade. He really did want to leave, but the other two contemporary instructors either had left already or had a conflicting schedule. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he wished that he hadn’t even left his bed. He could have slept the whole day and then maybe he would have felt better by the time Yoongi got back.

 “Hoseok teaches a different style, Tae.” Jimin murmured, leaning into the witches soft scratches with a sigh. “And he has his own classes to go through.”

“His class ends in twenty minutes. Exam preparations have actually opened up his schedule at the school a bit. He gets home earlier with the disadvantage of being buried in paperwork. Honestly, I don’t know why either of you think that teaching is fun, the homework is no joke.”

Jimin chuckled only to break off into a hoarse cough that left him wincing. He felt Tae’s hand move from his fluffy ears to his back, calmly rubbing circles into the knitted material of his clothes.

“I’m going to ask him to take your class. It can’t be that difficult, maybe the fact that he has a different technique and specialty will help your students find their own self-expression or whatever you guys call it.” Taehyung said, deciding to not give Jimin a choice as he whipped out his phone to fire off a message to his older boyfriend. “Have you taken anything today?”

“Pain killers and cough drops.” Jimin mumbled, already feeling the witches gaze pierce through him with annoyed concern. “I couldn’t take anything else. It makes me too drowsy and I will not let this cold stoop me to a level of taking catnaps during class.”

Taehyung hummed. His hand that wasn’t rubbing against Jimin was pushing the tea concoction closer to his face – pulling the face mask to sit below his chin. If he was worried about the pink hues that Jimin new stained his nose and cheeks, Taehyung didn’t mention it.

“Drink this and when we get to my place then we can put some proper medicine in you. We bought a whole bunch of stuff a couple weeks back when Jungkook had his bi-annual ‘exam session flu’ as he calls it, so we have everything you need.”

Jimin sipped the tea with a nod, accepting his fate before immediately regretting it as he choked on the liquid. A few other staff members shot him some sharp looks that he couldn’t fault – if he was them he would want to avoid anyone sick as much as possible as well, especially at such an important time of the year. But he had no control over this. What had once been a moderately decent cup of tea was now a thick, syrupy fluid that tasted oddly like melting rubber and pears.

Jimin pushed the cup into Taehyung so that he could smother his coughing into his hands, failing to stifle how thick and grating it sounded. His face was a blaze and he wrapped his tail around his waist while he panted, far too short of breath.

Tae frowned and took his own sip of the drink, moving quickly to spit it back out into the cup. “Damn it, I thought I had it this time.”

“Stop - trying to kill me.” Jimin whined, only half amused as he fixed his mask back over his face.

Feeling like enough time had been wasted, Taehyung pulled the hybrid to his feet.

“Let’s just go find Hobi, it will be quicker than him checking his messages.” His face still contorted in a mixture of disgust and disappoint as he led Jimin along to where Hoseok held his classes.

They disposed of the drink as soon as they could and avoided as many people as possible. Jimin preferred to try limit the amount of people he came into contact with, more out of fear of embarrassing himself more than he had already, so they had taken the chillier outdoors route to the dance studios. Tae didn’t listen to any of the weak excuses that Jimin had presented and kept mumbling on about all the nice relaxing things they could do as soon as they got back to the apartment. Jimin wasn’t strong enough to fight the promises of warm store-bought hot chocolate [that had no special additions from Tae], soup and the prospect of animations with cuddles.

Hoseok’s class was technically still in session when Tae pulled Jimin into the studio room. Thankfully the senior dancers seemed to be doing their own cool off routines and Hoseok was hovering off to the side on his phone when he saw them.

“Hey, I just saw your message now.” Hoseok bounded over to greet Tae with a chaste kiss. His face morphed into one of disgust when he had impulsively licked his lips. “What is that taste?”

Tae waved his hand with a deep sigh. “I almost poisoned Minnie again. Sorry to just come in, I really wanted to see if you could take his class. He hasn’t taken any medication, so I want to get him home.”

“Of course.” Hoseok pulled Jimin into a tight hug that had the hybrid sinking into his embrace. “Ah, Min. I can’t believe Taetae tried to poison you again. How have you survived so long?”

He could vaguely hear some of the students commenting on it and Hoseok merely lifted Jimin into his arms, letting the smaller man link his legs around his waist before leading Tae out into the hallway. Jimin pushed his head closer into the elders neck, hovering over where the scent gland should have been.

Out of their weird friend group Hoseok was the only one that was human, the rest being a mix of hybrids or witches and warlocks, but Jimin had always found that besides Yoongi and Jungkook – Hoseok had the most calming scent and embrace. In fact, there were many times when Jimin preferred Hoseok to Jungkook. The bunny hybrid was often a bit too active and always smelled of all the different people he had befriended in his uni classes.

“I thought it was weird that I didn’t see you at the meeting this morning.” Hoseok murmured gently, letting Jimin rub his nose into his shoulder and the crook of his neck. He smiled at his boyfriend as Tae reached to pet Jimin’s hair tenderly. “You should have told me sooner, Kookie could have come and fetched you. He only had a morning class today.”

Jimin tightened his hold for a second before pushing away. Hoseok set him down, swiftly running a hand over the hybrids forehead and then through his hair. He didn’t have a fever at least. Jimin could have easily stayed in Hoseok’s arms but he knew the elder must be tired. It wasn’t fair to fall asleep on him or make him use up his strength.

“When is the class?”

“It’s at three.” Jimin answered, shying away with regret. There wasn’t much of a time gap for Hoseok to take a break, but the other dancer didn’t seem to mind.

“Cool, its seniors right? They should all be working on their own routines and such, shouldn’t be too difficult to give some pointers. I’ve watched you enough to know what to talk about.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure I can push through. You must be tired.” Jimin pouted and Taehyung chuckled, pulling him back into a hug.

“Hobi won’t mind. He’s secretly always wanted your class, they’re more behaved. Plus, you don’t know when Yoongi will arrive. It would be easier to fetch you from our place.”

“Yoongi is coming home today?” Hoseok grinned brightly, not denying the fact of wanting to steal Jimin’s class. “Go Jimin. Go cuddle my precious little bunny and rest up for your man. I’m sure you must both be excited.”  

It hadn’t even sunk in for Jimin that he would be seeing his boyfriend again – almost two weeks earlier than they had originally planned. A small piece of the heaviness that had made a home in his chest seemed to dissipate at the thought of going to sleep beside his own personal warlock. Jimin hadn’t even truly acknowledged how much he had missed the elder, preferring to bury himself in his work and spending more time watching old anime that he had forgotten about.

He may have still had a pounding headache, and his chest, throat and sinuses were definitely going to give him troubles for days with how much his symptoms had progressed in such a small amount of time, but at least the momentary gap in is life will be filled again.

“I just want to wake up next to him again.” Jimin admitted, his voice dipping low enough for his voice to crack.

He cleared his throat and gave a tight chuckle, looking away from his friends sympathetic eyes. Neither of them had really had to experience being away from each other, it helped that there was three of them in their relationship. Perhaps that’s why Jimin hadn’t spent as much time with them recently as he usually did. The atmosphere of bonds and love may have been something that he was subconsciously avoiding.  

“You will, Minnie.” Tae murmured softly, his fingers finding their way back to Jimin’s tri-coloured ears. “Let’s get you some medicine first. Don’t want this to linger like it usually does.”

Hoseok gave Jimin a tight hug before he pressed a goodbye kiss to Tae’s cheek – avoiding having to taste the contaminated tea still on the witches lips. Taehyung had to tug Jimin away at first, the hybrid was determined to make sure that Hoseok truly was okay and equipped to handle his class, but eventually the pair had gotten Jimin to leave the building.

**

It hadn’t taken him long to get settled in the Jeon-Jung-Kim apartment.

Either Tae or Hobi must have texted in advance because Jungkook had met them at the door with his largest, warmest hoodie and a tall mug of hot chocolate ready to take control of the situation. While Taehyung had finished off the soup that Jungkook had started and gathered medication, Jungkook had set Jimin down in their small lounge which he had transformed into some sort of fluffy wonderland and managed to pull the huge hoodie over the smaller man’s head.

After sipping at least half of the hot chocolate Jimin had sunk right into the soft blankets and pillows with a deep purring sigh, allowing himself to just doze lazily while the other two prepared for their afternoon in a rushed silence.

It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when Jungkook shook him lightly from the slumber he had slipped into and gestured for him to sit up in order to place the steaming bowl of vegetable soup in his lap.  Jimin had pawed at his eyes and nose lethargically before leaning against the younger hybrid. Whatever sleep he had gotten hadn’t exactly helped. His head felt heavier than before and there was an irritating itch that had embedded itself in his sinuses.

One of Jungkook’s floppy black ears kept brushing against Jimin’s cheek while he ate, despite being comforted with the contact Jimin could tell that between that and the steam from the soup, he wasn’t going to be able to sniffle back the itch for long. After suffering through a few bites of food and numerous amounts of nose swipes, Jungkook moved to find a film in his room. Jimin took the opportunity to try relieving himself of some of the problems that were becoming somewhat problematic.

“Tae-ah” Jimin ran a sleeved wrist under his nose as he set down the soup bowl on the small portion of floor visible beneath all of the blankets that Jungkook had dragged out. “Can y-you get some ti-hih-tissues.”

Taehyung didn’t reply, although a box of tissues levitated over to Jimin from the kitchen, dropping almost directly into his soup. Jimin scrambled to try catch it with his breath hitching teasingly as he did. It was infuriating to be crumbling into a mess, especially with company. He knew that his friends didn’t care about how disgusting he may currently be, but Jimin despised that he wasn’t able to be in control of his symptoms. He pressed his wrist to his nose hard, trying to stave off the inevitable at least until he got the tissue box open. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work like that.

Jimin’s breath stuttered off into a harsh, wet sneeze – which was quickly followed by two, three, four more. It left him coughing into his fist, sitting miserably and too tired and embarrassed to move his hands from his face. He could only cringe at the mess on his hands and upper lip.

“Bless you.” Tae called, only for it to be the trigger of the next flurry of sneezes being torn from Jimin’s throat.

“That sounds awful.” Jungkook winced sympathetically as he returned with what Jimin assumed was Finding Nemo – always the first to start in an animation marathon.

Jimin wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, his face burned even though the other two seemed to just move on with life. The bunny called out to Taehyung to organise the movie while he shot Jimin a soft smile and tore open the box the elder had been struggling with. He pulled out a few tissues and handed them to Jimin, looking away to make a spot more comfortable for himself while Jimin tried to clean himself up.

Tae appeared from the kitchen, a dark robe adorned him as he dropped some water and pills beside Jimin then moved to put the movie in. He sent a tired look back at Jungkook when he saw the title but didn’t argue at the choice. The robe made Jimin nervous about what exactly Taehyung was getting up to and whether Jimin was going to have another potion poisoning him soon, but he didn’t have the energy to put in any complaints.

“Are you going to eat some more?” Jungkook asked, pressing against Jimin’s side. “You barely got halfway.”

  “I – Hih’eitiishhew, eheHISHiew… Argh.” Jimin reached to trade his tissues for new ones, sniffling and gradually losing any pride and dignity he had left. He shook his head and pressed the tissues to his nose, letting the old ones fall to his lap. “‘Not hungry. Just tired.”

“Okay…” Neither Jungkook nor Taehyung were too happy about the food being taken back to the kitchen but they weren’t going to force the cat hybrid to eat anything when he didn’t feel well, not after the last time Namjoon and Jin had done that and had resulted in Jimin throwing up on Hobi. Which of course had caused an unfortunate cycle that no one wanted to ever remember. “Come here and lay with me then.”

Jimin finished blowing his nose, not entirely satisfied with how it was left feeling itchy and raw, then he swallowed the pills without hesitation. He climbed into Jungkook’s side, purring instantly as the bunny preened and scented him until he was numb – being doused in calming pheromones and affection. Taehyung lay behind him after cleaning up and pressing play on the movie, running his one hand through Jimin’s hair and casually stroking the end of the hybrid’s flicking tail with the other. Jimin wasn’t able to focus on the film at all, slipping in and out of a dazed state while the other pair murmured to each other. There were a few moments when they all had to shift for Jimin to collect tissues or when he broke out into rough fits of coughing that usually ended with him snuggled into Jungkook’s neck, but most of the time they had spent bundled comfortably keeping movement to a minimum in case any of them fell asleep.

Jimin couldn’t recall the exact moment he had fallen asleep, but he did remember waking up briefly when Taehyung had left the cuddle pit to join someone else in the house. Vaguely he made out that Hoseok had probably arrived home, if the credits running along the screen were anything to go by then the dancer had probably just finished with Jimin’s class. Jungkook was snoring deeply beside him with his arms pinning Jimin to his chest, so Jimin couldn’t push himself upright like his weary and sick muddled mind had originally planned. When he heard Hoseok speak again he made a noise in his throat, wanting to gain attention to ask about his students but only resulted in coughing into Jungkook’s shoulder. Almost immediately fingers danced through his hair, scratching pleasurably at his ears before resting on his cheek with a sharp tsk.  

“Go back to sleep, Minnie. Just for a little longer, ‘kay?”

There was something so soothing about how the human had reacted to him that Jimin didn’t fight Hoseok’s smooth words, couldn’t fight them as his eyes were lulled closed, letting himself be petted back into darkness.  

**

Jimin blinked himself awake. It was colder. His brows furrowed in confusion at how dark the room had gotten. The places where Tae and Kook had lain were vacant. Padding the empty spaces Jimin could tell they had been gone a while.

His chest ached at the thought of them leaving him, but he pushed the thought aside- biting down on his lip to divert whatever pained him to be physical and more manageable. He could hear faint laughter from deeper into the apartment, the clinking of cutlery and plates. It must have been late already.

Jimin coughed tightly into his arm before rolling over to where Jungkook had been. He felt warm and tight, and he ached in a way that made him seem hollow but at least his headache had disappeared. He breathed as deeply as he could in an attempt to grasp at Jungkook’s soft floral scent, failing to smell anything more than a slight wisp of what should have been there. Being sick was so annoying.

Jimin was used to being reliant on scent, relishing in how different scents made him emote different feelings. Now he was left to just experience a bland, empty world.

He sat up, suddenly hating the soft fabric of blankets under his fingertips. He ripped off Jungkook’s hoodie, almost doing the same to the scarf Taehyung had brought him earlier , the paused. Instead, he brought it up to cover the bottom half his face. It wasn’t as soft as everything else since it was worn with age, but it brought him a sense of ease. A sense of home.

Hoseok’s loud, contagious laughter sounded through the apartment again and Jimin couldn’t keep himself from standing and wondering to where it was coming from. He moved passed the kitchen and down into the hallway, the guest rooms and study were empty, but a light shown dimly towards the end of the passage. As he got closer to the master bedroom he could hear a number of familiar voices speaking over each other excitedly. Namjoon and Jin must have arrived while he was asleep. His stomach twisted a bit at his previous thoughts that his friends had just left him for nothing. Of course, if they had other company they should be with them and not babysitting him.

He was indecisive to join at first before deciding that the only reason they weren’t with him was probably because he was asleep , so he moved to push open the door when he froze, hovering in the hallway just outside the door. Jimin pressed the scarf to his nose then pulled away and tried to sniff at the air. It was difficult but he could make out the sharp earthy mint that lingered.

His throat grew tight and his blood pulsed in his ears at the prospect of what waited for him in that room. He took a step back, running his hands through his sleep tussled hair. He no doubt looked awful - he knew that he did. No one looks attractive after spending their day gradually feeling more and more like a walking plague ad. Not to mention he probably smelled. No, he definitely smelled, he had danced with 5 different classes that morning and didn’t take his usual immediate shower when arriving home, because he hadn’t arrived at home. He couldn’t walk in like this, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to step away again. Now that he had had that taste and awareness of the fresh mint aroma he couldn’t stop it from amplifying despite not being able to smell anything else.

Jimin took a shaky breath, leaning his back against the wall opposite the door. The heat had bubbled up inside of him and a jittery smile danced on his lips. From inside the room he could hear Jungkook mumbling something, only catching his own name and the words ‘awake’ and ‘next dose’.

“I’ll get it.”

Jimin held his breath at the sound of the familiar deep dialect. Then that heat from before turned cold. He couldn’t be seen like this, what was he thinking? He at least had to wash up. He wasn’t ready. He had to –

“Jimin?”

Jimin looked up only to feel his stomach flip nervously at the deep brown eyes that brightened at the sight of him.

Yoongi.

He looked just like he had when he had left those months ago. His dark hair swept forward into his face and his fair skin shining with that unearthly glow of magic. Perhaps he looked a bit sharper, a bit more real. Jimin couldn’t stop staring at him, even when his heart beat rapidly against his chest and his cheeks flamed. He hadn’t even realised he was shaking until Yoongi reached out for him, bracing the hybrid with firm hands. Jimin croaked out a gasp and sunk into Yoongi’s arms – his previous concerns dissipated as Yoongi embraced him and pressed his lips to Jimin’s temple. Soft praises were whispered against Jimin’s skin that made him dig his nails into Yoongi’s chest – his nails subconsciously transforming to claws to gain a better grip.

How was this real? How was Yoongi even real? What had Jimin done in his life to deserve someone like the warlock that held him tight, as if he was just as scared to let Jimin go as Jimin was to step away from him. Jimin clung harder.

The world was suddenly too loud – deafening. His breath kept catching in his throat and he was sure that he had started coughing, but he couldn’t quite recall. All of his actions were blurring together.

“Shhh don’t cry, love.” Yoongi stroked Jimin’s neck tenderly. Earning another whine out of the hybrid. “Please don’t cry.”

Was he crying? Jimin rubbed his face against Yoongi’s neck, pulling away momentarily to see that – yes, he was in fact crying. For what, he was unsure, but no matter how much he sniffled and bit at his lips it didn’t seem like he was going to stop soon.

“Is everything okay?” Hoseok peeked around the door that Yoongi had half closed in his rush to leave the room. The dancer’s eyes widened at Jimin’s sobs, every so often broken by a grating cough. Hobi wouldn’t be surprised if Jimin woke up the next day without a voice.

“He – he feels a bit warm.” Yoongi answered rationally, but a voice crack betrayed his emotions.

The warlock felt close to tears himself.

“I’ll go fetch you some water.”

Neither of them argued, and Yoongi didn’t even glance up at the now silent room. He knew that their friends were probably watching with concern, but he didn’t want them near Jimin right now. Just him. Only him.

Yoongi had underestimated how difficult it was going to be when he had agreed to take the job in the UK. He had missed Jimin with every fibre of his being and struggled to communicate with him through electronic devices. He usually hated relying on the manmade crafts, but his magic was being used in his task and had left him practically depleted after each day. Even now he could tell how weak his job had made him. He’d surely be drained for a few days still – perhaps even a week. Yet nothing made him feel more powerless than having his beautiful, charming, strong calico hybrid brought to fevered tears in his arms. It made him regret ever choosing to leave, no matter how much his client had needed him – he and Jimin needed each other more.

“Shh love.” He felt Jimin lean into him completely and Yoongi took his weight, using the wall as support to gradually sink them both to the floor. He hugged the smaller man close with one arm and used his free hand to wipe at the tears staining the hybrids cheeks. “You must be feeling awful, Minmin.”

Jimin shook his head and burrowed deeper into Yoongi’s neck, mumbling something inaudible.

“What was that?”

Jimin pulled away, his breath hitching as he tried to control his tears. “ ‘missed you.” He ran his sweater-covered wrist under his nose which had been running, much to Jimin’s disgust and horror. “ ‘missed you so much, and now you’re here and I’m gross and … you’re perfect.”  

Yoongi pressed a kiss just below each of Jimin’s eyes, then his jaw and then finally – despite the noise of protest from his boyfriend – to the hybrids lips. He kisses were salty, but Yoongi didn’t care. Jimin’s tears had almost rolled to a stop, but it pained him to imagine that Jimin’s tears were partially due to insecurities. Yoongi had thought that they had moved past this in their relationship already, but he should never have been so quick to dismiss it.

“You will never be gross, okay? I am nowhere near perfect compared to you, and being here with you - no matter what state of health you’re in, makes me so happy, Min. I cannot even begin to describe what these months with not being near you have felt like and I would rather I lose my limbs than have to go through that again.” Yoongi pushed the dark sweaty locks of Jimin’s hair back from his face as he did a once over of his face. Taking in the swollen eyes and bright red nose, then moving to those familiar plush lips that looked puffier than usual – no doubt Jimin had been biting them. “I don’t want you to ever think that I wouldn’t be elated to see you every second of every day, okay?”

Jimin nodded. A small smile breaking out on his face. Yoongi took that as a sign to run his hands down to the hybrids sides and immediately the smile widened into a hoarse laughter as Jimin tried to wiggle away from Yoongi’s reach. He only stopped when a small bout a coughing broke the giggles, thankfully not as harsh as before but still worrying to Yoongi.

“Hey.” They both looked up to see Hoseok standing with a clear glass of water, smiling at them as he gave it to Jimin. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt. Do you two want to stay the night? I can set up the guest bedroom if you want?”

It was Yoongi who shook his head first, although Jimin wasn’t far behind him. “I think it would be best if we head home. I want to make sure Jimin is comfortable. Thank you though and thank you for giving us some time.”

Hoseok grinned knowingly, somehow always being the wisest out of the lot. “I’ll get Jungkook or Jin to pack you guys up some food to take with you, since it’s getting late.”

He didn’t wait for a reply merely turning to push open the bedroom door fully, revealing Namjoon and Jin sitting on the bed laughing lightly at the pair huddled on the floor close to the entrance. Jungkook had an arm over Taehyung’s shoulders while the witch had tears staining his cheeks with blood shot eyes.    

“Tae why are you crying?” Hoseok questioned with startled amusement.

The witch sniffed and rubbed at his face with an embarrassed chuckle, glancing around at where Yoongi and Jimin watched him from with wide, somewhat bemused eyes.

“It’s nothing. I got caught up in it, is all.” He explained sheepishly, earning a full round of amused chuckles.

“He started almost as soon as you left.” Jungkook added, directing his gaze to Hobi.

Hoseok sighed. He placed his hands on his hips and shook his head, although he supposed there was something sympathetically charming about it. “I’m dating literally toddlers.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at his apprentice, although he couldn’t blame him. He had come close to crying as well. Yoongi moved to adjust Jimin onto his lap, relishing in the deep purr that came from Jimin even before Yoongi pressed his hand to the base of the hybrids tail. Usually he didn’t pet Jimin’s tail in public, since it generally always led to something more, but he knew the younger loved when he did it, so he was making an exception.

“Let’s go home.” Yoongi murmured, wiping at the others’ cheeks before deciding to just leave his hand cupping Jimin’s warm face. “I am one hundred percent okay with closing my practice to spend the rest of this week with you, get you better.”

“I have school.” Jimin replied with a pout. Whether it was due to having to go to work or the fact that Yoongi was implying that he wouldn’t be going to work, he wasn’t sure.

“You have a cold.” Yoongi corrected. “And it will only get worse if you don’t take the time off now. Plus, we can catch up. Its deserved.”

Jimin didn’t have it in him to fight it, not after how tired his crying had made him and especially since all he wanted was to spend time with Yoongi.

“I’ll get someone to stand in for you.” Hoseok promised. Not wanted to give Jimin a chance to even deny Yoongi.

It appeared a plan was being formed, but Jimin zoned out of the moving of bodies and their soft voices, only choosing to focus on Yoongi’s scent, his breathing, his warmth, his touch. It was intoxicating.

Jimin barely even recalled being lifted up and carried outside to the car, having a thick blanket from Jungkook’s monstrosity being wrapped around him to protect him from the icy weather. He definitely wasn’t conscious when Yoongi drove them back to their shared cottage along the coastal edge, or when he was carried inside and surrounded by all of his favourite soft and scented pieces of clothing and blankets. Despite not being completely aware, Jimin’s dreams were swamped with the aroma of mint and the gentle strokes of a large, warm hand from the base of his tail all the way up to his twitching cat ears, easing any fatigue or pains that he may have had.

All in all, it was a pretty magnificent end to a very long and exhausting day, and Jimin couldn’t have been happier.

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