#was overwhelmed in public. crawled into my mother's lap

[robinsnest2111]

mama needs a break 😔

#metalocalypse #army of the doomstar #pickles the drummer #toki wartooth #robin's art adventures #based on one of my early childhood photos #was overwhelmed in public. crawled into my mother's lap #and she had the most haunted tired far-away look on her face. totally disengaged from the situation #ANYWAY enough about me. the dethklok hates church clip is making the gears in my head TURN!!!!!!!!!!!

[myillicitaffair]

Somethin’ Stupid | Charles Leclerc

Summary: while being interviewed by his former lover, bottled up feelings find their way out.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, lots of angst, some swearing, arguments.

Notes: this is the first time i’m ever posting anything on here, i hope you enjoy it xx

1.5k words.

Letting myself fall into his abrasive webs was surprisingly easy. His green orbs, pervasive and curious, piercing my soul.

We had our ups and downs, unbridled passion slowly dying with each tear shed, magnetic attraction burning my lungs.

We found ourselves in a hiatus, which found a way of prolonging itself further than I would have liked to. Perhaps he managed to keep himself occupied with his busy schedule; trainings, special dietary requirements, public relations… as for me, I rather hold my silence.

My routine was overflowed with his voice, with how much I missed his touch on my lower back, guiding me through the crowds, our hands intertwined in a tacit promise.

However, life demanded to continue with apparent normality. Dinner parties surrounded by friends, rounds of drinks avoiding alcohol… The last thing I needed was to degrade myself into a melancholic drunkenness.

Was he also having a hard time with the abysmal coldness on the other side of the bed or the loneliness of not having anyone to dilute your sorrow over morning coffee with?

My days had fallen into a sort of routine; waking up while missing him, showering while missing him, having breakfast while missing him… I think you get how thing are.

This particular morning, Silverstone was extraordinarily cloudy, the mist engulfing my view from the hotel room. How fitting!

Running away from my surreptitious misfortunes, I head downstairs, soaking up the competitive environment prior to every race. Emboldened as an agitated swarm, my colleges and me descended on the designated circuit.

Tedious security controls accompanied the anticipated fun, a hammer already pounding into my head at the thought of seeing him face to face once more.

Walking towards the space where the press was condensed, I check the days schedule for the last time. I am lucky enough to maintain friendly interactions with most drivers, so as to achieve fluid interviews, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

The only reason I can find as to why that fateful name is written on my list of drivers to interview was that God and I clearly have some unresolved business… funny timing to make me pay the price though!

A lump gets stuck in my throat just by thinking about it, preventing regular air flow.

The countdown only stuns me, even though my duty doesn’t start until the last lap. The smell of burnt rubber, product of speeding wheels, fills my lungs while intoxicating my nostrils.

The continuous lights turn red with overwhelming precision as seconds go by, lightning up the faces hidden with baklavas and iconic helmets.

Unconsciously (or maybe not so much), my eyes crawl back to the speeding number “16” that, red and furious, slides around the circuit while attempting to memorize every bump and curve along the way.

Chasing the sequence with collective looks of astonishment, a collision comes rushing down, disabling Piastri and Norris by the arrogance that only clear disagreements gives you.

Without further issues, the race concludes with a podium conformed by both Red Bull Racing drivers, trailed by seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton.

As possessed by group madness, the journalists rush into the victors. Microphone in hand, cameras shadowing us, content hunger gushing from our pores.

Driven by a exacerbated sadness, I shift my focus from the winners to him, returning my gaze with clouded tear ducts, bottled up frustration visible in his features.

With a touch on my shoulder, I’m brought back to reality by a co-worker, who, with a subtle shift of her head signals my awaiting obligations.

I head towards my press conference, where I take a seat with my name on it, psyching myself up for what I’m sure will be the most awkward interview of my whole career.

Dressed in Ferrari clothing and constantly stalked by flashes, both pilots near the platform where I await. They settle into their designated spots, holding still until the cameraman says otherwise.

I steal one last glance at my premeditated questions and hide my true feelings behind a focused frown.

“Welcome dear viewers! We find ourselves in the eleventh race of the year, accompanied once more by our friends from Ferrari, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz.”

I desperately try stabilizing the noticeable shake in my voice.

“Friend”- the Monegasque interrupts my monologue with a mocking remark.

The puzzled look his teammate throws in his direction doesn’t go unnoticed by the former, who insists on jointing his glistening irises with mine.

I decide to ignore the brief impasse in the speech, running away from his calculated sarcasm as I force the corners of my mouth into an attempted smile.

“so, Carlos… do you think driving behind two cars that crushed ruined your performance?”- I question, tripping over my words under Charles´s scrutiny.

“It´s safe to say it wasn’t an unexpected accident”- the Spaniard pronounces, doing his best at minimalizing the awkwardness- “for at least a couple of laps, Oscar and Lando were teasing each other, clearly trying to gain advantage over the other. They were lucky enough neither of them got hurt.”

I nod absent minded, vibrating due to the pounding against my ribcage.

“Charles, what can you tell us about your engineers’ strategy for this race?”- I swallow loudly, praying he can´t notice the mesmerizing effect he has on me.

“I guess you could say I’m not entirely satisfied with my team´s execution this season”- he confesses, minimizing the tingles of frustration running down his spine- “It would also be quite unfair dumping the blame on my team when my failure has more to do with me letting my emotions get the best of me.”

The tension is intercepted by a longing sigh I didn’t know I was withholding. The world seems to stop in its euphoria simply to hang in his every sentence.

“A broken heart is no joke… even less when you have to patiently wait for the piece they decide to donate you”- he reproaches without saying my name but making it perfectly clear that I was indeed the recipient of his raw address.

My anxious movements become motionless, forgetting the when and where, just to focus on the displeasure bubbling in my stomach.

“Guys, I really don´t think it’s appropriate to discuss this now”- intercepts the Madrilenian, proposing a ceasefire.

Mi hand goes up in the air before I can help it, shutting him up mercilessly.

“I wonder where I must´ve learned it…”- I reply, drowning in the unexpected harshness of my tone- “don´t forget who was the one to suggest this ´no strings attached´ bullshit between us.”

The drivers face shines with a scandalous blush in response to my bravado. Right here and there, I comprehend the dept of his anger, making its way through his collarbones, until it climbs up his cheeks.

“Just because I thought that’s what you wanted”- he spits out his resentful response.

From the corner of my vision, I perceive Carlos´s discomfort by reading his body language; the friction of wiping away the sweat stagnant on his hands, his shoulders pouring forward in a clumsy attempt of hiding from the cameras, his chair weakly shaking under the constant bouncing of his extremities.

Madness atrophies my reasoning, blinding me enough as to not have merci on his apprehension. I took this way too far, it would be useless to swallow my feelings.

“how in the world could you think our agreement benefitted me? Really, Charles, you couldn’t be any more stupid!”- I scream back, jumping up from my seat.

The swing of my feet gets ahead of my thoughts, allowing me to run away from the premature conflict before it blows up in the air.

Mi face heats up from the warmth of my own tears, that start rolling down my cheeks. With each involuntary spasm of my jaw, sobs escape my gasps for air. I don’t dare to slow down.

“Can you please just listen to me?”- a voice behind me shouts, trying to stand by my side.

I turn around to face his scrunched up brows.

“you have nothing else left to make up. You may convince somebody with the whole ´heartbreak boy´ façade you’ve got going on, but you have genuinely driven me mad”

“You and I both now that isn’t true! Have you ever wondered why I always seem to take a step back after every show of affection?”- he manages to freeze me to the core- “How come you never noticed my excessive efforts to stay away from you? I can’t even behave like a functional human being if I’m not feeling you, touching you, having you with me.”

In the middle of the paddock, with every pair of eyes set on us, events unfold the way I’ve been dreaming of, however I can´t even react.

“I know I´m not in a position to ask you anything, but please, strip me from the torment that uncertainty means… even if that means to completely destroy me”- he whispers with renewed fragility.

My smirk slowly becomes uncontrollable laughter, reducing me to unbridled chuckles. I shelter the vestiges of my giggling in between his arm, until It ceases in its intensity.

Without noticing, I search for his lips with my own, craving the heat they irradiate.

“I think you know perfectly well how my soul aches for you”- I manage to sneak in between kisses, stumbling across his smile, displayed in all its glory.

#charles leclerc #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #ferrari #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 fic #red bull f1 #red bull racing #imagine #argentina #Spotify

[mermaidsneedwater]

you’re pregnant

this was a requested reaction, i hope you guys like it!

⇒ jaebeom

Sinking to the bathroom tile, you looked at the three pregnancy tests scattered on the floor.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Angrily, you threw the tests in the trash. You hugged your knees, tucking you head in your lap. This could not be happening.

Before you had time to do anything, you could hear the lock of your apartment turn as your husband opened the door.

“Y/N! I’m home!” He yelled, setting his keys down. “What’s for dinner? I’m so hungry.”

Looking for you, Jaebeom scanned the living room and kitchen, with no sight of you, he headed to your bedroom. Stepping into the bathroom, he found you crying on the floor.

Wordlessly, he slid down next to you on the cold tile. Rubbing your back softly, he waited for you to say something.

After what seemed to be hours, you finally spoke. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh wow.” He said, taking it in. Jaebeom definitely. “Did you find out just now?”

“Yeah. I realized I hadn’t gotten my period in a while.” You said softly, looking up at him as tears welled in your eyes.

“But why are you crying?” He asked simply. “I mean isn’t this–“

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you’re happy about this.” You said, wiping your face. “I know this is the last thing you want.”

Jaebeom frowned, unsure of what to say, it was true. In the past he’d often talked with you about not wanting kids. You were so in love with him that you’d convinced yourself that it was something you could compromise on. It was a topic you thought you’d made amends with.

“We talked about it, and you said you didn’t want any kids.” You told him, fiddling with your wedding ring. “I thought I could be fine with that, but when I saw the positive test I was so scared. And honestly it’s because I was happy it came back positive. But what does that mean for us?”

Jaebeom reached out to wipe away your tears. “Well, you should know, we had that conversation a long time ago. And when you still agreed to marry me despite that, I figured that you didn’t have an interest in having kids like me. I was young and scared, and didn’t think that I’d make a good parent.”

What was he saying?

“I’m not sad or angry about this.” He continued. “I mean, I’m surprised and definitely scared. But I’m not unhappy.”

“What are you saying?” You asked.

“I’m saying that if you want to have this baby, I’ll support you. I think I’m ready... to be a father.”

“I love you,” You said, reaching out to touch his face and pull him for a kiss.

“I love you baby,” Jaebeom whispered, placing a hand in your stomach. “And you too.”

⇒ mark

“Well? What did it say babe?” Mark asked as you left the bathroom.

“I’m not sure, does this look like two lines to you?” You handed Mark the test. 

Squinting, Mark attempted to make out the results. Unfortunately, they were too ambiguous to tell. As Mark inspected the test, you looked at the box. “Oh crap,” 

Your husband looked up at you to see what was wrong.

“It’s an expired test.” You told him. “We have to go get a new one.”

As he drove to the nearest pharmacy, Mark kept a hand on your thigh. You looked out the window to see a family walking home from dinner. Smiling you watched as the father picked up his two little girls and walked. Their mother followed closely behind.

Soon enough you’d arrived. Parking in the lot, Mark hurried out of his seat and went to open your car door. Hand in hand, you walked to the pharmacy. 

Mark went straight to the counter and asked for a pregnancy test, handing you the box once he'd paid. The cashier directed you to a bathroom in the back. Rushing to the door, you almost sprinted to take the test. 

Mark walked to the back of the store to wait out for you leaning against a wall outside the bathroom, he looked around the store to distract himself.

He watched as a mother walked in with her son and brought him to the ice cream section. The little boy picked out a sweet treat and leaned into give his mother a kiss. Mark smiled at the thought of you with a baby like that.

“Mark?” you called out.

“I’m here.” he said, turning to see you exiting the bathroom.

When you realized he was there, you ran to jump in his arms. “I’m pregnant.” you whispered in his ear. 

Pulling back to look at you, Mark couldn't contain a smile, “really?”

“Really.” You nodded.

He spun you around as you laughed, “I’m so unbelievably happy!”

⇒ jackson

“So your blood work came back and everything looks good.” Your doctor said. “But-“

She paused, unsure of how to proceed. “I’m not sure if you’re already aware, but your blood test indicated that you are pregnant.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Laughing, you brushed her off, “they have to be wrong. I’m not pregnant.”

“Have you noticed any of these symptoms– nausea, frequent urination, fatigue, or increased irritability lately?” She asked.

Thinking back to the last couple of weeks, you realized that more than one of those indications applied.

“Oh my god, I’m pregnant!” You realized.

“I can refer you to an obstetrician, although most women start out seeing their gynecologist.” You doctor offered. “I understand this can be overwhelming to find out. I’m sure you’d like to discuss with your husband–“

Jackson. He was going to be thrilled.

“Doctor, I have to go home, can I call you later?” You quickly gathered your things and headed back home.

When Jackson finally arrived home, you were so nervous to tell him you felt you could puke.

“Hi Princess,” Jackson smiled, coming into your home to hug you. “I really missed you today.”

Hugging him back, you were unsure on how to tell him, I’m pregnant.

“You’re sweet,” you said. “I’m not feeling hungry, but I made dinner for you.”

You guided him to the dining table, where a hot plate of food awaited.

“You’re the best.” Jackson kissed your cheek.

You sat at the table and watched him eat. I need to tell him, you thought.

“How was your doctors appointment?” He asked, chewing his food. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m in good health.” You assured him. Me and your child, you added mentally.

“I was thinking, we should take a trip. Just the two of us.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand.

You watched as he drank from his glass of water. This was it, now or never.

“I hope there’s room for one more, because it’ll have to be the three of us.” You told him nervously. You watched his face as he put two and two together.

Jackson spat out his water. “You’re pregnant?!”

“Apparently.” You confirmed. “The doctor told me today at my appointment.”

He jumped out of his chair, picking you up bridal style and walking around the house.

“Jackson what are you doing!?”

“She’s pregnant! I’m going to be a daddy! The love of my life is carrying my child!” He yelled out to no one in particular.

“Great, now I have to tell our baby that their dad is crazy!” You laughed out.

“I’m crazy about you two.” He smiled, kissing you in his arms. “I feel like the happiest man in the world.”

⇒ jinyoung

“Holy shit!” You cursed out.

Rushing to the bedroom, Jinyoung found you standing at the mirror.

Frowning, he placed a hand over his heart. “You scared me! What happened? Why are you yelling?”

“Look at me. Do you notice anything different?” You said, standing with your jeans unbuttoned.

“That’s a new top?”

“I can’t close my jeans! They barely fit!”

Walking over to you, Jinyoung zipped up your bottoms and tried to button them for you. Furrowing his brow, he found that he simply couldn’t.

“See?!” You told him, panicked. “How did I gain so much weight so quickly?”

You sat down on the bed and laid down. You could feel tears run down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry!” Jinyoung tried to comfort you, sitting next to you. “We can just go buy new jeans.”

“How am I supposed to go out in public if I can’t fit into my pants!” You cried.

Jinyoung watched as you buried your hands in your face. Now he really knew something was off. Silently walking to the bathroom, he pulled out a pregnancy test from under the sink. Pulling you by your hands, he sat you up on the bed and crouched down in front of you.

“Sweetheart, I think you should take this.” He said, placing the test in your hands. Reaching out to touch your face, he wiped your tears with the pad of his thumb.

Then, Jinyoung took your hand and walked you to the bathroom. He quickly ran to the kitchen and brought you back a glass of water.

“I’ll be right outside.” He told you. Closing the door, he collapsed onto the bed waiting for you.

It was only fifteen minutes before you came out with the test. He sat up on the bed, waiting for you to tell him the results.

“I just peed.” You explained, handing him the test. “I can’t look. You tell me.”

Jinyoung set a ten minute timer on his phone, placing the test on his bedside table. “Come here.”

You crawled onto the bed and he wrapped his arms around you from the back. Sitting in silence for five minutes, you finally spoke.

“Are you scared?”

Jinyoung held you a little tighter before answering. “Me? Scared to be a father? No way.”

You turned around in his arms, “Be honest. You can tell me if you’re freaking out.”

“Y/N, I know it’s sooner than we thought but if it’s positive I’ll be overjoyed.” He said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you?”

“I don’t know.” You replied. “All I know is how much I love you. I would love to see a mini Jinyoung running around.”

“I want a mini Y/N.” Jinyoung smiled, his laugh lines crinkling at the thought.

At that moment, the timer from his phone went off. Sitting up in bed, you leaned your head on his shoulder as he brought the test into the light.

Positive.

You watched as Jinyoung began to tear up, now it was your turn to comfort him. You kissed his cheek, sliding your hand over his. He looked at you lovingly before placing his hand on your stomach.

“Hi baby. This is your mommy, and I’m your daddy.” He whispered. “We can’t wait to meet you.”

⇒ youngjae

Youngjae sprayed the countertop cleaning spray and wiped. You continued typing away, finishing a report that you needed to turn in. As you watched him, you could smell the chemicals from the cleaner.

Soon, you couldn't take the smell. Rushing to the toilet, you crouched over and threw up.

“Woah, darling are you okay?” Youngjae rushed over concerned. He rubbed your back and you flushed the toilet.

“I think so, when you were cleaning though, the chemicals made me feel so sick.” You told him.

“That’s like the third time that you’ve had this intense reaction to a smell.” Youngjae pointed out. “Do you think you may be...”

“Pregnant?” You asked. Your eyes widened at the thought, you hadn't gotten your period this month!

You quickly opened the bathroom cabinet and found the pregnancy tests that you’d bought three months ago.

“I’ll wait for you.” Youngjae said, leaving the bathroom.

As you took the test, you washed your hands, and sat on the bathroom counter, opening the door for Youngjae.

Youngjae watched the test anxiously awaiting the results, you’d been trying to have a baby for a while but hadn’t had much luck. The doctor had told you that it typically took a year to conceive.

Finally, the results began to slowly appear.

“They're coming in, look!” Youngjae told you.

Slowly the word appeared. Positive.

“It’s positive!” Youngjae hugged you. “You’re pregnant!”

At the word positive, you cried in relief, “Oh thank god.”

As you both held each other in the bathroom, all you could do was count your blessings. Your family of two would now be three.

⇒ bambam

It’s not that Bambam didn’t want kids, he simply had no interest in having them right now.

Unfortunately for him, his sentiment would play a big part in your decision to wait to tell him. Ever since you’d learned you were pregnant, you had panicked in telling Bambam. Now that you were eight weeks along, there was no hiding it.

You sat awake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep feeling guilty about omitting the truth. Tossing and turning, you couldn’t take it anymore. Bambam reached out for you in bed. 

“Are you okay? You keep moving.” He asked groggily.

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out.

“You’re joking right?”

“I wish I was.”

Bambam sat up in bed, and turned on the lamp by his bedside. He rubbed his eyes before asking “How long have you known?”

Biting your lip, you finally came clean, “A month.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bambam asked, clearly hurt that you’d kept him from the truth for so long.

“I don’t know, I was so scared. I know you want kids, but you made it clear that now was not a good time. I guess I was worried that you would...”

“I would what?” Bambam asked, slightly annoyed you thought so little of him. “You know how much I respect you, I would never pressure into doing anything you weren't comfortable with.”

He sat up in bed and turned his back to you, planting his feet on the floor. Crawling over to him you turned him to face you. 

“Do you want to see something?” You asked.

Bambam kept his head hung low, not looking at you. Placing a hand over his, you lifted up your shirt and brought his hand to your stomach. You had just barely started to show.

“So that’s why your stomach had gotten a little bigger.” He muttered.

“I’m sorry, really.” You apologized. It was true, you were sorry for having kept this information from you.

“Y/N, I’m here for you. You know that right? Don’t leave me out of anything,” He said.

“I know. I won’t.” You promised.

“I can’t believe I'm going to be a dad.”

⇒ yugyeom

“Maybe you’re pregnant.” Yugyeom suggested, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s not possible.” You dismissed him. “My period is just a few days late.”

You finished brushing your teeth, and rinsed your mouth. Brushing passed him, you went to look in your bag for your birth control pack.

“Y/N, think about it– when we went to the lake... I mean we used protection the last couple of times, but did you take your pills?”

Pulling out your pill pack, you finally saw the truth staring you in the face. You’d missed the last four pills.

“Oh shit.” You ran a hand through your hair.

Coming to stand in front of you, Yugyeom placed your hands in his, “take a test. It’s the only way to know for sure.”

You buried your face in his chest, crying “I can’t believe I was so irresponsible. I’m not ready for this! It’s too soon.”

Yugyeom brought a hand to the back of your head, smoothing your hair out, “First of all, it takes two to get you pregnant. This is not your fault. And I know you’re scared jagi, I’m scared too. But, if we don’t know, we can’t plan.”

“What if it’s positive?” You asked, feeling that it would be the worst case scenario.

“Take the test first so we can know.” Your husband insisted.

After a quick run to the pharmacy, Yugyeom came back with three tests.

“I brought a couple just to make sure.” He told you.

Nodding your head, you grabbed the boxes and took them to the bathroom. Quickly following the directions of the test, you came out with the test in your hands.

“So?” Yugyeom asked.

“It’s negative.” You told him, showing him the stick.

“Oh. Okay, take the second one just to be sure.”

Repeating the process, you handed Yugyeom the second test. Negative again.

“Alright. The test said you’re not pregnant.” He said somber, you could sense he was disappointed. “Let’s sleep.”

Quietly, you turned off the light and crawled into bed as you faced Yugyeom. “You seem upset.”

“I’m not.” Yugyeom denied.

As you raised an eyebrow, he finally came clean. “Okay, fine maybe a little. When I realized it was a possibility, I was kind of excited. I was hoping the test would come back positive.”

“Honestly? When I thought I was pregnant I was so worried. But as I sat in the bathroom waiting for the first test, I started imaging you as a father, and how much you’d love our baby. So when I saw that it was negative, I was a little disappointed.”

“Maybe we can start trying for real soon...” Yugyeom said, tracing circles on your hip.

“Maybe.” You trailed off, as Yugyeom came close to kiss you.

Exactly four days later, you used the third test Yugyeom had brought. This time though, it was positive.

“False negatives are common, but not false positives,” you told him, handing him the test.

“So that means...” Yugyeom looked down to your stomach. “You’re really pregnant?”

“Yes.” You told him, holding his face in your hands “we’re having a baby.”

“I love you so much,” Yugyeom replied, kissing you and then moving down to your stomach to place a small kiss.

return to masterlist

#got7 #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #got7 scenarios #got7 drabbles #jaebeom #park jinyoung #mark tuan #bambam #yugyeom #choi youngjae #jackson wang #ahgase #mnw works #got7 masterlist #igot7 #got7 reaction #got7 imagine

[ff-imagines]

tofu mother! i’m so happy you’re back! i can’t wait to see you talk/write about dumb tofu men some more! uhh, it seems requests are open! if you wouldn’t mind, uhhhh, sweet tofu nsfw alphabet, please? thank you!

Sweet tofu: nsfw alphabet

Holy shit, I haven’t done sweet, have I? I am such a bad horny tofu stan please forgive me 😢

A - aftercare

Very good. He’s always pretty overbearing doting and that trait will be cranked up to an 11. He gets you whatever you need, but desperately wants to stay with you for at least a few hours afterwards. He wants to know how you feel, and he loves to see the spectrum of your emotions, he’d never tell you he secretly wants to know you enjoyed it. Your approval hits a certain twinge in his chest.

B - body part

Of his own, probably his eyes, and his fingers. He takes great care in his nails, manicures are essential for him to feel clean.

Of yours, he loves your chest. Not exactly the tiddy tho lmao. A strange thing to like but he likes how comfy it is to rest his cheek on your chest and lightly trace your collar bones. He’s really comforted in hearing your heartbeat.

He likes your thighs for the same reason, they’re a good pillow. Thighs are also soft, which means easier hickies~

C - cum

There’s…. lots of it. He recovers fast, and will sometimes overwhelm you with cum. it’s kinda fucking endless honestly. Will cum legit anywhere you ask, sometimes will be bratty and cum anywhere but where you want. Loves to cum on you, it makes him feel more possessive.

D - dirty secret

This man has no secrets when it comes to sex. He’s up front, and he’s very open about being into almost everything you can think of. One thing he’d rather not let anyone but you know is that his hips, collar bones, and wrists are really sensitive. If you massage, kiss, or lick over them he loses his composure very quickly.

His favorite spot to be kissed is the vertebrae on the back of his neck, and he’ll be a tad more intimate if you lightly scratch the back of his neck and the hair on the base of his skull.

E - experience

moderate. He’s a creepy looking dude, but it’s fairly easy for him to find entertainment for when staying home gets a bit boring. We know from salty's backstory he’d flirted with a woman who came back to talk to him frequently, along with salty mentioning how he’s always been fairly popular.

“Hehehe, I know what I’m doing kitten. My question is, do you know what I’m going to do?”

F - favorite position

Seriously, what doesn’t he like..?

I think positions where he can see your face is his favorite, most likely loves to put you on his lap so he can watch you desperately grind on him while wrinkling your nose in the most adorable way~

G - goofy

To a degree. I feel he’s goofy in initiating but less goofy as time goes on. He still teases though and sometimes he manages to crack a smile out of you in even the most strangest and awkward positions. He'll never tell you but he loves that he can make you laugh, even when you’re in the most intimate and private state possible.

H- hair

Slightly groomed, but not extensively. Sometimes he has weeks where ofc he’ll shower but doesn’t really want to shave so you’ll have to remind him. Or don’t, if that’s your thing.

I- intimacy

Very but also not always.

He can be so fucking intense, refusing to let you look anywhere but at his face so you can see how hard it is for him to keep his control, watch him this time, let it be known how much he adores seeing your body scream and twitch for his touch.

On the other hand, he might rile you up just to leave you squirming for hours.

Depends on how nice he’s feeling~

“Fuck, no. Look at me. Look. At me. You did this, you fucking did this, look. At. Me. You’re gonna watch me while I fuck you, eyes. On. Me.”

J- jerk off

Not too often? He just prefers the real thing. 1-2 times a week. When you started to catch his interest, he stopped completely for a while, giving his full attention to you, even before confessing his interest in you. It’s more out of him trying to gauge who you are and if he’s actually interested or just entertained by you. When he figured out it was actual interest though? Prolly jumped up to 3-4 times a week due to feeling a growing desperation because of his feelings.

K- Kinks

...All of them.

Most of his favorites are the darker side of BDSM, light blood play (mostly prefers he’s the one bleeding), intense sadomasochism (doesn’t matter who’s who), primal, heavy bondage, breath play, and especially role play. He’s just… really obsessed with putting you in strange situations in order to learn all he can about how you tick.

“So so adorable, but I wonder how you look when you’re in pain~”

L- location

Again, either the place he knows your most comfortable, or the place he knows you’re the least comfortable. He wants to see you squirm as the brick of the alleyway he’s pinned you against rubs into your skin brutally just as much as he loves to see your hands grasp the soft blankets of your warm bed.

M- motivation

When you do something really innocent. The happier you look the more he wants to absolutely corrupt and ruin you.

“Look at you, you’re so precious all wrapped up in these blankets, would you mind if interupted, just for a little bit?”

N- no

I feel he also doesn’t actually like daddy kinks. He’s… got some issues with the man he viewed as his father so if you want to call him something, just don’t make it daddy.

O- oral

God does he love biting your inner thighs and watching you twitch.

He appreciates oral, but being able to make your skin crawl is much more pleasing to him. Might give you oral right after fucking you just to watch you squirm in overstimulation.

“Hehe, I see the bruise from last time is faded… I wonder if I can make a new one that will last just a bit longer~”

P- pace

Depends if he’s playing a bratty role or a more intense one. No matter his pace, he’s gonna stop in the middle and just watch you cry in frustration at his teasing. This man is patient so good luck lmao

Q- quickies

Not… exactly? He loves to tease, so he’d most likely get you incredibly worked up and then leave. Would definitely grope you at a dinner table then right as your getting close leave the room entirely lmao

As for actually quick fucking you, if you beg nicely, he’d most likely give you whatever you wanted no matter what lmao.

R- risk

Wouldn’t full out fuck you in public but.. again…. if he gets to see the embarrassment on your face while he finger fucks you under the table? Now that’s the good shit.

“Stay still, you’re squirming. You’re gonna give us away if you keep moving, you wouldn’t want that would you?”

S- stamina

Ridiculous. Mainly because he pulls some strings and uses his powers as a healer to recover his own energy. What a bastard.

T- toys

He owns a few. Most are restrictive, like handcuffs, rope, etc. might get a vibrator just to tie you down and make you cry and beg him to turn it off after overstimulating you for what feels like hours.

U- unfair

Y E A. Prolly the worst teaser you’ll ever encounter in your entire fucking life. He wants to see you cry from frustration and then hear your screams when he fucks you so hard it makes you cry all over again.

Then he stops, giggles, and goes back to teasing again.

“Kitty, come on, you can take just one more, cant you? For me?”

V- volume

Talks a lot. And it’s not that he’s “loud”, he just moans a lot. His voice is naturally pretty quiet though. Lots and lots of low groaning. During and after cumming he’s quieter, giving out a low hum while breathing slowly trying to regain his composure.

W- wild card

There is no mention that his hair is dyed, so I’m making the head canon that his natural hair is two tone and that his fuckin body hair is duel colored.

X- X Ray

Like I said, I will go down with the hc his body hair is duel colored like his hair. Mans got white and brown pubes I don’t make the rules.

As for size he’s actually on the smaller/average size, solid 5 inches.

Y- yearning

When you’re down, he is. If he hasn’t seen you in a long time he’s gonna be more grabby. He actually isn’t easy to make that jealous because he’s very confident in your loyalty, you’re willing to stick with him this long so… why worry?

Z- zzz

Lmaoooo? sleep?? Who’s that? Don’t know her. Thinks you’re adorable when you fall asleep though. Likes to study your face while sleeping and will gently coo and let your hair if he notices your face starts twitching because of something like a nightmare. Might peel back the blankets a bit to further… “observe”. And he wonders why you keep waking up freezing.

“Awe, out so quick kitty? Hm, you are cute like this. Wonder if you’ll look cuter when you’re having a nightmare…”

#food fantasy #food fantasy x reader #sweet tofu #ff sweet tofu #ff sweet tofu x reader #sweet tofu x reader

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Chapter 14

Kate wandered around the clean, white living room and admired the view from the backyard while Lisa followed her.  Chris came in behind them, setting their luggage down.  They were in Los Angeles for the Civil War press and premiere.  There were a lot of firsts happening on this trip for her.  First private jet ride, first time on the West Coast, first time going to a movie premiere, first time going public with her celebrity boyfriend…. She was working on not being overwhelmed.

“Welcome to my home away from home.” Chris said, walking up being Kate and wrapping his arms around her.  His hands went to her belly and he rubbed them in small circles.

“The view is pretty.” Kate said, leaning on him and laying her head back on his shoulder.  She was exhausted from jet lag and had developed a headache.

“You should go lay down, honey.” Lisa said, checking Kate’s forehead.

“Do I have time?”

“We’ve got plenty of time.” Chris said. “Ma’s right. You should go lay down.”  

“You need to take care of yourself, Kat.” Lisa said. “Chris, go lay down with her.  It’ll make her feel more comfortable in an unfamiliar bed.  I can entertain myself.”

He kissed Kate’s temple after she nodded her agreement. “Come on, baby.  Let’s go lay down.”

“I’ve got such a headache.” Kate said, rubbing her temples.

“I’ll get your Tylenol.” Lisa said.

“I have to pee again.” She grumbled as Chris led her to his master bedroom.

He pointed at the door to the master bathroom. “It’s right in there.  I’ll go grab our bags.”

“Ok.” When she came back out, Chris was sitting on the bed holding a glass of water and two Tylenol pills.  A pair of fluffy shorts and a large T-shirt sat next to him. He had changed from his jeans and sweater to a pair of gray sweatpants and no shirt.  Their suitcases were sitting in and around the chair in the corner of the room. “Feel better?”

“Only my bladder does.  My head still hurts and my feet are swollen and I want to take a nap.”

“Here, take these.” He handed her the pills and water. Once she took them, he helped her to get into the shorts and shirt before easing her onto the bed.  He sat down and took her feet in his lap.  

She sighed with pleasure as he began to rub her feet. “Tell me about what’s on the agenda this week.”

“Tomorrow is the MTV Movie Awards.  Sunday I’ve got press to do all day.  Monday I film Ellen with Lizzie and later is Jimmy Kimmel Live. Then Tuesday is the premiere.”

“Then on to China?”

“Are you sure you’re up for it?  You could always fly back with Ma.” “I’ll be fine.  I’m excited for London.  It’s only a couple of days, but I’ve always wanted to go.”

“I’m just worried about all that traveling and how it’ll affect you.”

“I’ll be tired, but it’s nothing I’m not used to right now.  I can’t sleep on my stomach, so I can’t get comfortable, so I don’t get much sleep. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep on one of the planes.”

“You didn’t get any sleep on the plane here.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Kate sighed and rubbed her stomach. “Being pregnant is hard.”

Chris chuckled. “I can only imagine.”

She reached out for him. “Come lay down.  Be my big spoon.”

“Happily.” Chris crawled up her body, kissing his way up her leg and then her arm.  He dropped behind her and spooned against her, wrapping his arm around her and rubbing small circles on her belly.  A strong kick to his hand made him jerk back. “Holy shit!” He laughed and put his hand back.

“Oh good, you can feel that now, too.” Kate heard him sniff behind her and she turned her head to see Chris wiping at tears running down his cheeks. “Awe, Chris….”

“Sorry.  I just…. That’s my kid.  That’s our kid.  We made that.”

“We sure did.” She turned over onto her back and covered his hand with hers as he rested it on her belly.

He laughed again as the baby kicked his hand. “Kat, I am so fucking happy.  I can’t remember ever being happier.”

Kate reached up and wiped away his tears with her free hand. “Is it just now hitting you that you’re going to be a daddy?”

“A little bit.” He ducked his head to kiss her shoulder and then rested his head there, staring at their hands on her stomach. “I’ve known it was coming.  I’ve watched you grow with our little Jelly Bean in there, but feeling our baby kick…. It means it’s real.”

“Oh, what?  I was just getting fatter till now?” Her tone implied that she was joking, but Chris still looked panicked.

“I didn’t say that!”

She giggled. “Baby, calm down.  I was kidding.” “I know, but I don’t want you to ever think that you’re fat or ugly.  You are so gorgeous and you just get more beautiful with every day that passes and I just love you so fucking much.”

“You don’t have to try so hard to get laid.” Kate poked Chris’ nose with a grin. “I’m all yours, baby.”

Chris laughed and kissed her. “We’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“This leads to sleep eventually….” A jaw-splitting yawn cut her off.

“You sleep.  If you feel up to it later, then we’ll work something out.”

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

When Kate woke up a couple of hours later, she felt the familiar roiling of her stomach.  She quickly got out of bed and rushed into the bathroom.  Lisa happened to be walking by Chris’ bedroom door when she heard the retching.  She rushed into the bathroom and knelt down by Kate, holding her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other.  Chris was in the kitchen on the phone with Megan.

“I thought the second trimester was supposed to be a cakewalk.” Kate said with a shaky voice.

“That’s a myth.” Lisa said, sitting with Kate. “There is nothing about being pregnant that is a cakewalk.”

“Maybe I need to start reading those books I bought.”

“You haven’t started?”

“I’ve been tracking my pregnancy on an app on my phone.  It gives me all the details of what I can expect that week and the size of the baby.”

“That’s really neat.”

“This week, Jelly Bean is the size of a head of cauliflower.” Lisa laughed. “Chris has the app, too.”

“There’s a party in my bathroom.” Chris said, drawing the women’s attention to him standing in the doorway. “Everything ok?”

“Morning sickness that can’t tell time.” Kate said. “Now that it’s over, I feel better.”

“It was probably all the excitement of travelling.” Lisa said, getting to her feet with her son’s help.

“Thanks for being here with her, ma.” Chris said, taking his mother’s vacated seat on the bathroom floor.

“It’s my pleasure.  I’ll go see what I can cook up for dinner later.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.  I thought we could take Kate out for a little site-seeing and dinner somewhere if she feels up to it.” He looked over at Kate. “Since you’ve never been here, I thought it could be fun.”

“Only if you feel up to it, sweetie.  You don’t want to tire yourself out any more than you already have.”

“I actually feel pretty rested right now.” Kate said. “I wouldn’t mind some site-seeing with you guys.  Will it be ok for you, Chris?  I know LA is kind of paparazzi central.”

“Yeah.  I’ll just pop on some sunglasses and a hat.  It should be a good enough disguise.”

“Kate, you’ll need to put some on, too.” Lisa said. “The internet has your picture everywhere and people are going to notice you. Especially in Los Angeles.  The last thing you two need is to get mobbed.”

“I’ve got a few hats you can choose from, babe.”

“Ok.  Get your ass up and help me up.” Chris chuckled and hopped to his feet.  He held his hands out and helped Kate to stand up. When he leaned in to kiss her, she ducked her head away. “You really don’t want to do that.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead. “I’ll go unpack your toothbrush.”

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris sat on the edge of the bed and watched Kate sleep.  She had been fast asleep when he’d woken up that morning and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her.  They had gotten home kind of late the night before.  He had planned on taking her to Grauman’s Theatre, a few places on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Rodeo Drive, and maybe the Griffith Observatory.  Instead, she had convinced him to take her to Disneyland.  They had spent all afternoon and well into the night there, closing the place down. She couldn’t do any of the thrill rides, but she had had plenty of fun with everything else she could do.  They had enjoyed a late romantic dinner at Carthay Circle Restaurant.  They had been lucky to get a table, but there had been a last-minute cancellation. Lisa had spent the afternoon with them, but had left early in the evening to give the couple time together.

“Hey sleepy head.” Chris leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s almost noon.”

“Mmmm.” Kate tried to roll onto her stomach, but her bump stopped her and she groaned.

He chuckled. “I’m really happy that you got some sleep, but now we’ve gotta start getting ready to go.  Jenn is here to pamper you.”

She lifted her head and curled around to lay it on Chris’ lap. “I’m cozy.”

Chris smoothed out her unruly hair. “I know. If you don’t want to go to the show with me, you don’t have to.  Ma isn’t going.  I’m sure you guys can hang out here or go out and sightsee around LA.”

“I want to go, but I want to be asleep, too.”

“I promise we won’t be there long.  I just have to introduce a clip from the movie and then mingle a little bit.”

Kate nodded and moved to sit up.  She ended up facing Chris and gave him a smile before leaning forward and nuzzling her head on his shoulder.  He laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “Am I really going to the MTV Movie Awards tonight?”

“Seems like.”

“I used to watch them all the time when I was younger.”

“They were a lot more exciting back then, right?”

“They really were.  I think the last decent one I remember seeing was the one that Sarah Michelle Gellar and Jack Black hosted.  Or maybe it was when Justin Timberlake hosted with that guy from American Pie.”

“You know Justin lives down the road from me?”

“Really?  I might go for a walk tomorrow.  Which way should I head?”

Chris laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Good thing he’s married.  You would win him over and I might lose you to him.”

“Oh, you definitely would.  I’m a hardcore NSYNC fan.”

“Don’t tell Shanna that.  She’s hardcore Backstreet Boys.”

Kate giggled. “Ok, I guess I’ll get up now. I’m going to brush my teeth before I go out there, though.”

“Ok.  I’ll wait here.” Chris laid down and stretched out in her vacated spot.

“Well, that’s not fair.  Why do you get to lay down?”

“Because I’m not getting my hair and makeup done.”

“You should probably rethink that.  The camera is definitely going to pick up how hideous your face actually is, then.”

Chris laughed loudly, covering his chest with his hand as the rest of his limbs levitated off the mattress.  He turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand. “Maybe I should let you go out and introduce the clip?  You’re already gorgeous.  That hair and makeup is only going to make it stand out more.”

“Pretty sure I would disappoint all your fans.”

“Just the female ones.  The male fans might try to steal you away.”

“Well, I’m also pretty sure Jelly Bean is a big deterrent to other guys.” She turned and walked into the bathroom while Chris just grinned at her.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

The place was loud and full of beautifully dressed celebrities.  Jenn had dressed Kate in a fashionable blue dress that was off the shoulders and hugged her body from her shoulders to her knees.  It made her bump stand out.  She was wearing a pair of black, peep-toe pumps that had four-inch heels.  Jenn had teased her hair and then put it into a low side ponytail.  Her makeup was done very naturally and dewy as a request from Chris to just show off Kate’s natural beauty.

Kate gripped Chris’ hand as they walked through the backstage area behind Megan, his publicist.  The place was actually outdoors this year.  Everywhere they went, people stared inquisitively at her.  Chris waved at and talked to some of the celebrities, always introducing Kate.  Some of them were friendly to her, others just nodded and ignored her.  She was starting to feel like an outsider and it was making her cling to Chris as her insecurities started to creep through her.

“Captain Little Ass!” An unmistakable, loud voice called from a few feet away.  They turned to see Anthony Mackie making his way over. “Bring it in here, bro!” The two men hugged tightly. “Congratulations, man!  Welcome to the daddy club!”

“Thank you.” Chris laughed. “Mackie, this is my girlfriend, Kate.  Kate, this is Anthony Mackie.”

“I’m a hugger.” Mackie warned, bringing Kate into a tight hug. “Congratulations to you, too!”

“Thank you.  It’s lovely to meet you.” Kate smiled as Chris wrapped his arm around her waist.

“This dude talks non-stop about you. Seriously, the Avengers group chat has been non-stop Kate talk.”

“Oh, god.  That’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.  We’re all really excited for you guys.  And he has nothing but great things to say about you.”

Kate looked up at Chris lovingly. “That’s so sweet.”

“So, when are you due?”

“July 22nd.” Chris and Kate said in unison.

Mackie laughed. “Not too much longer.  You’re almost in your third trimester, then.”

“Yes.”

“Are you excited?”

“Is that the same thing as nervous?  If so, then yes.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.  If you need any advice, my wife, Sheletta, would be more than happy to help you out.  She pretty much adopted Chris the moment she met him, so you’re family now, too.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“What am I saying?  You’re getting hit with advice left and right, I bet.”

“A little bit, but I’m just trying to listen to my body and my doctor.”

“That’s the best thing.  Every pregnancy is different.  You do you, girl.”

“Chris, Josh Horowitz wants to do an interview with you and Mackie.” Megan said.

“Oh, uh….” Chris looked at Kate, not wanting to leave her.

“I’ll guard her.” A deep, Australian voice said from their left.

“Hemmy!” Chris and Mackie yelled.  The three men embraced and Chris turned back to Kate. “Kat, this is Chris Hemsworth.  Hemmy, this is my girlfriend, Kate.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Kate said, shaking Hemsworth’s hand. “I’m not gonna call you Hemmy.”

Hemsworth laughed. “It’s ok.  I’ve tried to get them to stop, but they’re assholes.  Look at you!  You’re bloody gorgeous.  Has Evans figured out that you’re out of his league, yet?”

“Oh gosh!” Kate blushed profusely. “I am way out of my element right now.”

“For the record, I figured it out a long time ago.” Chris said. “But she keeps choosing me, so I’m not complaining.” He kissed her quickly. “You’re in good hands with Hemmy.  I’ll be quick.” She watched him walk off with Megan and Mackie.

“How are you feeling?” Hemsworth asked.

“I’m ok.  I actually got to sleep last night.” Kate said, turning to look up at the tall Australian.

“Evans gushes about you and the baby non-stop.”

She laughed. “So I’ve heard.”

“We’re all really excited about it.  He’s going to be such a great dad.  We’re all really excited to get to know you, too.”

“That’s so sweet.  You and your wife just had twins, right?”

“We did!  They’re almost two years old now.”

“Congratulations.  That must be terrifying.”

Hemsworth laughed. “It was a bit of a shock at first, but we absolutely love it.”

“I’m sure it’s fun being outnumbered.”

“You’ll find out eventually, I’m sure.”

“Oh, we, uh…. We haven’t talked about that.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.  Please, ignore me.  I talk too much.”

“No.  It’s ok. Really!  I mean, I’ve known that Chris wants kids plural.  I am a fan of his and I’ve seen his interviews.  I think you guys did one for Age of Ultron talking about him wanting kids after babysitting yours.”

“Good memory.”

“It’s just that…. Well, this one was kind of a shock, so I haven’t even thought about anything past this one.”

“I’m sorry.  Evans said that it wasn’t planned.  I just stuck my foot in my mouth.  I hope you’re not offended.”

“I’m not.  Really, I’m not.”

“Just the way he talks about you and the future….” Hemsworth shrugged sheepishly. “Topic change?”

“Sure!”

“Are you excited about going to the premiere later this week?”

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.  You’ll have a blast.  I won’t lie and say the first time isn’t intimidating, but once you get over the initial insanity of it all, it’s actually quite fun.”

“Will you be there?”

“No.  Thor didn’t get invited to the war.  Besides, I’ve got press to do for this movie.”

“Hey, how do you handle people wanting to know every detail about you?”

“Deflection.  You give them just enough to think they’re actually getting something juicy, but in reality it’s just something they already know just rephrased.”

“I have no idea how to do that.”

Hemsworth laughed. “Honestly, I have no idea either. My wife gets annoyed with me sometimes because I think I always manage to give too much away.”

“I’m really glad I’m not a celebrity.  I don’t know how you guys can do interview after interview with the same questions.”

“Oh, that’s easy.  The more bored I get as the interviews go along, the more insane my answers get.  I kind of feel sorry for the reporters at the end of the day because they’re just getting complete bullshit out of me.”

Kate laughed. “Chris told me he gets kind of crazy at the end of junkets, too.”

“Marvel stopped letting us interview together because we were just the worst.”

“It’s true.” Megan said, joining the conversation. “I got so many calls about the shit that came out of them, I could’ve wrung their necks for it.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but it was too much fun.”

“Thanks, Hemsworth.” Megan laughed. “Chris is just finishing up and he’s got to go do his intro.  If you want to watch, there’s a green room we can go to.” “I was heading there, too.” Hemsworth said. “I’ve got to meet up with Charlize and Jessica.”

“Can I go to the bathroom first?” Kate asked.

“Again?  You just went when we got here.” Megan said.

“She’s pregnant, Megan.” Hemsworth chastised. “She can’t help it.”

“Right.  Sorry. Come on.  There’s a bathroom in the green room.”

“Thanks.” Kate said. Hemsworth fell into step next to Kate and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Told you I would protect you.”

“Thor to the rescue.”

“Always, fair maiden.”

Megan led them into the building that housed a large, plush area that was also filled with celebrities.  She pointed out the restrooms and promised to be waiting right outside the doors.  Hemsworth told Kate he wouldn’t leave the room until he’d gotten to see her again before heading off to join his castmates.

“Have you seen her yet?” A voice asked as two women walked into the bathroom.  Kate had just gotten settled on the toilet.

“Yes.” The other woman said. “Clearly she got pregnant on purpose to keep him around.”

“You think?”

“I mean, why else would he choose to stay with someone so fat and pathetic?  She looks like she’s going to burst out of that dress at any moment like a can of biscuits.  It’s gross.”

“I don’t know.  She’s kind of cute.”

“Please!  She’s a complete stalker.  There’s no way they met by chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you actually believe she was just there on vacation by herself?  Who even does that?  That’s just sad.  She totally went to Boston to stalk her celebrity crush and managed to fool him into sleeping with her.  Now she’s got him trapped playing house.” Kate felt like she’d been hit with a ton of bricks.  They were talking about her.  She peeked through the slit in the stall door to see if she could tell who the women were.

“You sure you’re not just mad that you didn’t think of it first?”

“I would never allow myself to get pregnant to keep a man.  I’m not desperate like that.  That’s just over-the-top, trailer-park trash skanky.”

“Well, he’s with her now.  What can you do about it?”

“I was actually hoping to run into him tonight. See if I can’t get him to scratch an itch one more time, if you know what I mean.”

“You two were definitely hot together.”

“You have no idea.  I bet he’s so bored with the porker that he needs some excitement in his life.  You know, I almost regret breaking it off with him.”

“Why did you?”

“I got bored.  Besides, he was starting to talk about marriage and I just wasn’t feeling that.  I will say that the thing I regret most about the breakup is giving up the sex.  He is great in bed.” The woman laughed harshly. “How the hell he can find where to stick it in all that fat is beyond me.  Seriously, how did that cow get him to sleep with her?  And who does she think she is coming here with him?”

“You’re just mad he never brought you anywhere.” Megan’s voice said suddenly.

“Megan!”

“Finally dumping your fame hungry ass was the greatest thing Chris ever did, Minka.”

“Fuck you too, twerp.” Minka and her friend stormed out of the bathroom.

Kate felt her face getting hotter as tears fell down her cheeks.  The woman talking shit about her was Chris’ ex-girlfriend, Minka Kelly.

“Kat?” Megan called softly.

Kate didn’t answer as she felt her throat constrict with overwhelming emotions.  The things Minka had said were vile and hurtful.  Kate tried her hardest to not let others’ opinions of her bother her too much, but to hear someone discuss her private life and be so vicious towards someone they didn’t even know was awful.  And there was a little voice in the back of her head that wondered if it was all true.  Had she trapped Chris because she wouldn’t have an abortion?

“Kat, I know you’re in here.” Megan said.  Kate sighed and got up off the toilet.  She adjusted her dress and walked out. “Oh, Kat, I’m so sorry.  Minka is such a bitch.” “Clearly.” Kate spat.

Megan handed her a tissue. “Please don’t listen to her.  Chris adores you.”

“I don’t stack up to her, Megan.  I don’t stack up to any of the people in his life here. We’ve been living in this little bubble and I forgot for a while, but being here…. Seeing these people…. Seeing her…. What the hell am I doing here?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Kat.  They don’t stack up to you. Trust me.  I’ve been with Chris a long damn time and I’ve seen them all. Minka may be pretty on the outside, but she’s an ugly person on the inside.  She’s just jealous.” Megan hugged Kate tightly. “Seriously, she was the absolute worst thing on the planet for Chris.  She’s a fame whore.  She jumps to an ‘it’ guy and rides his coattails until the next ‘it’ guy comes along. Chris actually thought they had something, but she was just leading him on.  He finally realized it the second time they dated and he dumped her.”

“What about all the others?”

“There’s really not that many, Kat.  And trust me, none of them have what you have.”

“And what is that?”

“Chris’ heart.  Seriously, that man is head over heels for you in a way he’s never been before.”

“You didn’t hear what she said, Megan.”

“Not all of it, but I heard enough.  I’m so sorry, Kate.  This is all my fault.  I got distracted and completely missed her coming in here.  I should’ve headed her off.” Kate glanced at herself in the mirror and groaned. “Don’t worry about it.  Chris should be done and we can leave now.  He doesn’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to.  I just want to go home.”

“Ok.  We can definitely do that.”

Megan helped Kate clean her face up as best she could.  It was clear that Kate had been crying, but at least her mascara wasn’t running down her cheeks anymore.  When she finally felt presentable, she followed Megan out of the bathroom. Glancing around, she spotted Chris talking to Minka across the room.  Her hand was on his bicep and she was laughing at something he said.  Kate’s stomach dropped and fresh tears welled in her eyes.

“Fuck me.” Megan snapped emphatically.  Lucky for her, Hemsworth was nearby. “Hey, Chris, can you take Kate to where they’re keeping the cars?  She’s not feeling great.  I need to go get Chris.”

“Of course!” Hemsworth walked over and wrapped an arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Come on, sweetheart.  Let’s get you out of here.”

“Thank you.” Kate said, her voice wobbling as she tried to fight back the tears.

“Pregnancy sickness is no joke.  I’m sorry it’s ruined your night.” He rubbed her arm affectionately. “Evans will get you home and you’ll feel better in no time.”

“Thanks.”

Hemsworth got them to the loading area and let the valet there know that Kate was with Chris Evans.  The valet rushed off to get the driver out there quickly.  Kate was having a hard time keeping the tears at bay and now her morning sickness was actually trying to rear its ugly head. Thankfully the car got there quickly and Hemsworth helped her in, telling her he hoped she felt better soon.

Inside the green room, Megan marched over to Chris and Minka. “Seriously?” She snapped at the tall brunette. “You seriously have the nerve to walk over here and talk to him after all that?”

“Whoa, Megan!  What’s going on?” Chris asked.

“Kate was in the bathroom while your ex-bitch here talked shit about her.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know she was in there.” Minka said, her tone implying that she didn’t care Kate had heard everything.

“Who the fuck cares if you didn’t know?” Megan snapped. “You don’t know her and you have no claim on Chris, so you shouldn’t even be opening your mouth.  The things you said about her were fucked up.”

“Seriously?” Chris growled.

“It’s not my fault if she can’t handle people talking about her.” Minka defended. “I was just repeating what I’ve heard. Maybe she shouldn’t have set her sights on someone so out of her league if she can’t take people talking about her.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.”

“After all I meant to you, you’re going to speak to me like that over her?”  

“You mean absolutely nothing to me.  Kate means everything to me!  Try spreading that shit around instead of the bullshit you’re spewing.”

“Chris….”

“We’re done here.  Stay away from me and my family.  Megan, let’s go.” Chris turned and marched off with Megan rushing to keep up. They passed Hemsworth on the way and he let them know Kate was already in the car.  Chris picked up his pace and practically ran to the car.  Kate was sitting in the back trying not to hyperventilate. “Oh, babe, I am so fucking sorry.” Chris wrapped Kate in his arms and she began to sob. “Please don’t let her get to you.  Please, baby.  She’s a piece of shit.” Kate couldn’t say anything.  She was too overcome with hurt and anger and it wasn’t helping her keep her morning sickness at bay.  Megan ordered the driver to pull over and Kate barely made it out of the car before she was sick on the side of the interstate.

 *_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Chris laid beside Kate and watched her sleep in the darkness.  He didn’t know exactly what Minka had said.  Kate hadn’t been coherent as they drove home and she had decided to just go to bed when they got to their house.  Lisa had tried to get her to talk while she’d helped her clean up and get into her shirt and shorts, but Kate just hadn’t felt like talking.

He reached over and placed his hand on her stomach, hoping to feel the baby move. “Did I trap you, Chris?” Her voice startled him.  He thought she’d been deep asleep.  

Then the meaning of her words hit him. “What?”

She pushed his hand away from her. “I did, didn’t I?  Because I wouldn’t have an abortion, you felt obligated to stay with me.”

“I think you forgot about the two months before we found out….”

“I’m sorry, Chris.  I’m sorry for invading your life.  It’s not what I meant to happen.”

“Stop it.”

“But it’s true!  You were living your life and then I just showed up and….”

“Made everything brighter.  You made my world better, Kat.”

“How did I do that?  I said from the beginning that I’m nothing special.”

“And I said from the beginning that you are extraordinary.  You haven’t done anything to prove me wrong.”

“The things she said…. Are people really saying that about me?”

“Who gives a shit?  Nothing anyone says is going to change how I feel about you.”

“I’m just a nobody fangirl who met the celebrity she adored and fooled him into loving her.”

“Is that how you really feel?  Or is that a conditioned response?”

“Conditioned response?”

Chris sat up and turned the bedside lamp on. “Kat, your father spent years making sure that you felt like you were never going to be good enough.  You spent years in therapy trying to recondition yourself to think otherwise, but you’re going back to that old way of thinking right now.  Do you remember what you said to me in Boston when I was worried about people being mean to you?  You were so confident in yourself then.  You said that you had heard it all about yourself and it wasn’t going to bother you.  Where did that Kat go?” “She was wrong.  It does bother me.”

“Why?” “Because my father was right.  I’m not good enough, Chris!  I’m not good enough to be your partner.  I’m not good enough to….”

“Stop it!”

“Look at how I reacted tonight!  That’s not how someone in a relationship with Chris fucking Evans should react to anyone talking shit about her.”

“How should she react?”

“She should have walked out of that stall and told Minka to go fuck herself.”

“And why didn’t she?”

“Because I’m not her!  I just sat there and listened to it and I didn’t stand up for myself because I feel like maybe she was right.  Maybe I did trap you because I wouldn’t have an abortion.”

“Take your pass.”

“What?”

“Take your pass.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m giving you a hormone pass.  Take it.”

“You think this is just hormones?”

“I know this is just hormones.  Baby, you had a rough night and you’re allowed to feel shitty, but I need you to take the hormone pass and come back to me, ok?”

“Chris….”

“Take the hormone pass, damn it!”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Ok!  I take the hormone pass!”

“Thank you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I love you, too.” Chris stopped for a moment and stared at her.  He seemed to come to some conclusion and smiled to himself. “Kathleen Amelia Allen, I love you.  It is insane how much I love you.”

“Sometimes I really believe that insane part.”

He reached over and pulled out a little wooden box from the nightstand on his side of the bed.  He opened it to reveal a beautiful and unique engagement ring sitting in dark blue velvet.  The white gold ring was an art deco style with a European cut diamond set in a square-shaped halo of French cut sapphire accents.  A pear-shaped natural sapphire sat on either side of the square. “Kat, I bought this in Savannah after I left Richmond.  I bought this only three weeks after we met.  I was wandering through town waiting for you to get off work so I could call you and I saw this in the window of an old antique shop.  It just screamed your name.  I walked in and bought it because I knew one day, I wanted to give it to you.  I bought it well before I knew you were pregnant.  I’ve carried it with me everywhere I go since that day just waiting for the perfect moment.”

“You think me having a mental breakdown because your ex said some nasty things about me and made me realize how big and different your world actually is, is a perfect moment?”

“Uh…. Actually….” His resolve wavered for a moment, but he pushed it aside and continued on. “Yes.” He wove the fingers of his free hand with one of hers. “Kat, I have never in my life felt about anyone the way I feel about you.  Now is the perfect moment for you to understand that.  You didn’t trap me.  I’m exactly where I was meant to be and I’m asking you to be there with me, too. I’m asking you to marry me.” Kate opened and closed her mouth a few times, not finding the right words to come out. “I’m going to set this right here,” Chris kissed her hand and leaned over her to set the open ring box on her nightstand. “You don’t have to answer me tonight.  Or tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after that…. But the question is there to be answered when you’re ready to answer it, ok?” She nodded. “Let’s go to sleep now?” Kate nodded again, laying on her side and letting Chris spoon against her back.

Tag List

@joannaliceevans-fanficblog

@jamielea81

@southerngracela

@kelbabyblue

@tfandtws

@southerngracela

@lovinevans

@ajosieface

@introvertedmouse

@sullyosully

@deidrashouseofpain

#Chris Evans #Kate Allen O/C #Chris Evans/Kate Allen #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #Boston Boy

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Apathy”

Ok everyone, this was a super big pain to try to get into four pages. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that you see here, but there is a lot that I cannot fit in to make it more accurate.

WARNING! For anyone who doesn’t want to see images of PTSD, violence or some self harm, you probably don’t want to read this. 

This is a very important chapter for you to understand some things I have planned for upcoming posts. As always critiques, questions comments, prompts, ideas and messages are always welcome.

Krill peered around the doorframe into the captain’s quarters, he definitely planned on speaking with him about Sunny, this was the third time in two days she had slammed her head into a doorframe because she wasn’t looking: mostly because she was listening to music. To keep the integrity of her skull, he thought it might be best to limit her music time, for her health or course.

When he came around the corner, he found Captain Vir kneeling on the floor with Waffles, scratching her behind the ears with one hand and fitting her into a vest with the other. Krill was only just beginning to understand the human script but he thought he read.

Service Dog DO NOT TOUCH.

“Captain, what is that?” He wondered, completely forgetting his earlier question.

Captain Vir looked up from where he knelt rubbing the dog’s ears, “Oh, It’s her service vest.” When Krill didn’t seem to understand, the man continued, “Sometimes human’s train dogs to help people with stuff like a disability, medical condition or mental illness. The vest allows her to go into places other dogs can’t.”

“Oh…. Is that because of your leg than?”

The captain shook his head, “No, I used to have pretty severe PTSD after coming home from the war. I don’t so much now, but sometimes I have my days.”

Krill shifted a little nervously, “May I ask….” He trailed off not sure how to phrase the question.

Vir grinned at him, “Krill, you know you can ask me anything right, but I get what you’re trying to say… the war ending was actually worse for me than the war itself.”

***

Lieutenant Vir lay on his bunk in the dim lighting listening to the sound of the ship’s distant engines. His missing leg throbbed.  Even with it gone, it was still destined to haunt him. Door opened a crack, he listened with apathy as the Captain spoke to one of the other officers

“How are they?”

A long pause followed, “About as good as you’d expect.”

The captain gave a long sigh, and Vir could hear the sound of his clothes shifting, “Well, we just started our descent, so get them up, and let’s get these boys home.”

***

Vir sat in the shuttle as it rocked underneath him. He looked down at his missing leg, and the shitty surplus prosthetic they had given him, the knee didn’t even bend forcing him to limp around on crutches. He had already fallen more times than he could count. He squeezed his eyes shut as the ship rocked harder trying to force down the panic as the sound of the ship’s engines grew louder and louder in his ears. His leg throbbed with the beating of his heart, and his breathing sped up.

They touched down some minutes later his head ringing as the shuttle coasted to a stop and the doors were opened. He gathered up his crutches and levered himself to his feet limping horribly at the awful prosthetic and his stupid crutches. He slipped coming off the ramp landing hard on his side. The soldiers on the tarmac rushed forward to help him up, but he angrily shrugged them off. They stepped back hesitantly as he struggled to his foot, hip smarting. He could feel his eyes growing hot with unshed tears, but he forced those down too angrily limping away from the ship head down. He didn’t want to see their faces, the pity, the cripple.

He felt so stupid angry at that idiot boy obsessed over aliens and UFOs. If he had just been normal, none of this would have happened. Even the thought of aliens made him sick, made him want to curl up, to run away, though he couldn’t even run now. His throat tightened; he felt as if a massive hand came down to constrict his chest.  Still nursing his bitter thoughts, he was ushered through a door into the terminal, and there he saw them. His mother and father waiting for him by baggage claim.

They saw him too, and he watched the look on his mother’s face as her eyes widened, and her hands shot up to cover her mouth. His father’s expression never changed much, but now an expression of anger, and then horror shot though him for a small moment. Upon seeing them, the hotness returned to Vir’s eyes.

They met him halfway, his mother crying, and his father stoically silent. She wrapped him up in her arms in a way that she never had before. This time, he couldn’t contain the heat, and he felt the tears beginning to spill down his cheeks as he rested his head against her shoulder.

***

The sky above was blue, or it should have been. Everything seemed so grey these day. Vir sat on the back porch of his childhood home scanning the shrubs at the back of the yard for signs of movement. He didn’t mean to do it, it was just habit at this point. His head snapped to the side thinking he had seen a flash of blue form the corner of his eye, but no. He went back to scanning the trees acutely aware of the emptiness that so haunted him. From his new spot on the porch, he was just able to hear any conversation coming from the kitchen. He had heard a lot of conversations about him these days, about how he wasn’t himself, about how their happy boy was gone, about how he needed help, about how the VA sucked (yeah, about a thousand years later and the VA still sucked).

He would feel bad for his parents, if he could FEEL anything, anything but anger, or fear. He couldn’t go out in public anymore, he got overwhelmed in crowd, and sudden noises had him ducking for cover. The more crowded an area, the more flashbacks he got, the more panic attacks.

And he still couldn’t walk very well. That made him angry. He just wanted to run, to get away from his problems, but you can’t run from your problems when you can’t even run. He dropped his head into his hands, but looked back up almost immediately scanning the yard once again.

A hand on his shoulder, “Adam.”

The flashback was immediate and violent, the Drev looming against a blood red sky. Pain.

When his vision cleared, he was on his feet, and his mother….. she was backed against the doorframe hand to her mouth.

She was bleeding.

He stepped back, “Mom… I…. I’m.” And then he ran, as much running as he could do. He slipped on the floor barely catching himself on the wall before running into his room and slamming the door locking it behind him. He slid down the other side of the door shaking staring at his hands stomach churning in abject horror.

He was a monster.

He dropped his head against his knee biting his hand to choke back the sobs.

He could hear them knocking on the door begging him to come out, to talk to them. She wasn’t mad, she was sorry, she shouldn’t have snuck up on him, apologizing like it was her fault, when everyone knew it was his. He bit down even harder filling his mouth with warm copper.

Around the room, posters stared at him with accusing eyes. Accusing alien eyes.

Aliens.

He closed his eyes but could still feel their staring at him their accusations. What right did they have to accuse him, after taking his leg? The anger welled up inside him, until he couldn’t contain it.

With all the hatred he had pent up for them, he clawed his way to his feet, he ripped the posters from the walls throwing them to the floor, tearing them into pieces, he smashed figurines spilling glass across the floor, he ripped pictures from books, tore sketches from drawing books until his hands were bleeding.

Outside, his father hammered on the door demanding to be let in. His mother cried.

***

He lay on the floor amidst the pages and the glass removed from everything wallowing in apathy. The anger had trained away to be replaced by the nothingness. The voices outside his door ad stopped hours ago, after he had acknowledged to his parents he was still alive. They were worried, but his father hasn’t been able to break down the door. He had tried.

A soft click, the door swung open.

Adam turned in surprised to find David kneeling at the level of the door holding a set of lock picks.

He was alone.

“Hey baby brother, you look like shit.”

Adam turned his head away, “Just leave me alone.”

David moved forward standing over him, “No, Adam, you crossed a line today. I know you’re sick, and it isn’t your fault, but it’s time to get help.” David reached down and grabbed him by the shoulders hauling him to his feet with an immense amount of strength, “Come on, let’s go.”

“I know a guy, and he’s promised to get you help.”

***

They sat in the waiting room Him and David filling out the final paperwork. His brother had been a pest, but at least he hadn’t treated him like a glass sculpture. He talked to him the same, joked with him the same, and told him when he was being a jerk. It was annoying, but it was kind of nice.

As he was making the last signature something padded across the floor. There was a light pressure on his knee, and he looked down to find a large set of brown eyes looking up at him.

The dog wagged its tail. The vest glittered red and black in the overhead lights.

A woman stood a few feet away smiling as the dog shoved its snout forward forcing him to stroke its ears. It made a soft grumble crawling halfway into his lap resting its head against him as he ran a hand down her soft fur.

He smiled for the first time in months.

Waffles was a good girl, she help him during the flashbacks and the panic, the stopped him from continuing with poor coping habits, she led him away from overwhelming areas, and she kept people at a safe distance when that didn’t work.

Slowly, he got better.

***

He sat on the floor with Waffles sitting next to him, “And this is a Rundi, I saw them the most when I was out. They fought with us in the war, fast suckers, but they couldn’t take a hit worth a damn. I should have more information around her somewhere.” He shuffled through the pile of papers with waffles resting her head on his knee staring up at him with big brown eyes.

A soft knock at the door.

He looked up to find his mother standing there. He smiled at her and she beamed back walking in to sit next to him reaching over to rub waffles across the belly. The dog grumbled, “Who’s my favorite girl?”

“Mom, I think I’m ready to get back to work.”

She beamed, “That’s great Adam, what are you going to do?”

He sat running a hand over his new prosthetic, it had helped a lot over his old one. All the joints articulated, even the toes (which definitely helped his balance) after months of physical therapy, you couldn’t even tell he was missing a leg. He even managed to stand up on moving busses so others could have his seat. He took the dog out for daily runs regaining the fitness he had lost during those long months after the war.

“I’m going back.”

She looked confused, “Back to where?”

“The army, mother, I want to see the rest of what’s out there.”

She didn’t much like that idea.

She was very worried about what would happen if he were to ever meet a Drev.

#humans are space oddities #humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #drev

[rinusagitora]

The love, lead, and the undead.

Fandom: Monster Prom

Characters: Vicky Schmidt, Damien LaVey, Brian Yu, Oz, Zoe

Pairings: Brian/Damien/Vicky, Oz/Zoe, platonic Brian/Oz/Zoe

Words: 3.9k

Summary: Canon divergent. Chapter 2/?. WARNINGS— smut, alcoholism, depression, mentions of csa, childhood abuse, medical horror; After Damien and Vicky share a night of passion, trouble brews.

Home was supposed to feel cozy and lived-in.

Vicky vaguely remembered her childhood with her mom and sisters. That was home. She remembered her biweekly visitation with her dad too. His home was cold and smelled like dog urine and beer. His car smelled like cold metal, and then it smelled like a gas fire after he wrapped it around a pole. She remembered the smell of her dad's breath as he screamed at her to buckle up, like putrefaction. She remembered what her blood smelled like when her head collided with the dashboard.

Since the accident, she hadn't felt at home. Gary was the man who reanimated Vicky. His lab was hard and cold. He was never really affectionate towards her. Once Gary died of mercury poisoning, his brother Eugene took her in, and that was never home, not after the things he did to her. Even Vicky’s apartment wasn't home.

She wasn't ready to stay in a place so hollow.

"Can you stay the night?" Vicky asked. Damien walked her home after they loitered on campus several hours after the school day ended.

"Yeah. My dads won't mind."

Vicky guided Damien inside and he kicked off his shoes by the door. "This is cute," he complimented.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Booze?"

"Wassail?"

"Is… is that booze?"

Vicky forgot he didn't celebrate Christmas. "I'll get you some whiskey."

"Thanks, babe."

Vicky returned with two glasses of single malt whiskey. When she sat next to Damien, he crossed his legs and gazed upon her. "So, bank robbery. What got you into that?"

"I like being independent. It'd hard juggling school and my social life when I need to pay rent. Robbery is a huge payout every couple of weeks, so I can cover my bills and have plenty extra to play around with," she explained. "Vera is a fantastic partner as well. I wouldn't get half as much as I do without her."

"Are you guys, like, friends? Does Vera even have friends?"

"I feel like she’s my friend," she said. "If we’re asking questions, though, why are you going to a public school? You're the motherfucking prince of Hell. I'm sure there are a plethora of academics at your dads’ disposal that could instruct you better than any of our teachers. You’d probably learn stuff that would be more relevant to ruling over Hell.”

"I wanted to go to school up here. It's not that I feel out of place, but it's refreshing not constantly feeling like people are sucking up to me up here for their own benefit. I prefer being sucked up to for being feared."

"I'm sure you'd rather be sucked off."

His face darkened with his blush. "Well, yes, but… God, you are forward."

Vicky was pretty forward. As curious as she was about Damien's other love interest, she hoped to avoid those heavy topics so soon. But she was bored, and she was a whore, so the obvious solution was to fuck.

She set her whiskey aside, and Damien downed the remainder of his. She crawled on top of him. She kissed him, kissed across his jaw, and scraped her teeth against his earlobe. Damien purred. With one hand, he pulled her back to his lips. He licked her lips with his broad tongue. When he slipped inside, he massaged the roof of her mouth. He pulled her shirt up to her shoulders and she pulled away from him to undress and discard her clothing.

"You're gorgeous," he said. He stroked the underside of her breasts. Vicky bit her lip and smiled down at him. "These are amazing. No wonder you're so popular," he told her with a fistful of her breasts in hand.

Vicky pried Damien's hands off her chest and kissed his neck. She kissed down his neck, his collarbone, his chest, his belly. His hips bucked when she licked his erection through his pants.

"Fuck," he groaned. He unbuttoned his pants, and then lifted his hips so Vicky easily slipped his pants off. She held his erection in one hand as she languidly licked up his shaft. She tasted his precum on his head. When she slipped it into her mouth and lapped at the opening, his fingers combed through her hair. She swallowed him down to his base, where she smelled his sweat on his bladder. His breath rattled in his lungs. She only bobbed a handful of times before he grasped her chin and the back of her head, which effectively pinned her in place, and fucked her face. It touched her voice box, she gurgled, and it was delightful. She held his thighs to prevent from touching herself.

His thigh muscles quivered as he pulled out. Saliva and precum dripped onto Vicky’s chin. She smiled up at him. “You’re a freak, babe,” he hoarsed.

“Fuck me,” Vicky mewled. Damien vanished her pants and underwear like a magician. He dropped her legs over his shoulders, and held one of her quads as he positioned himself. Vicky’s moan echoed through her apartment. He was so long, he continuously massaged the nerve endings inside of her, and it made her legs spasm around his neck.

“God,” he groaned, “you’re amazing. I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion.”

“Like a toy?” she whined. Like a pretty doll he took everywhere. She wanted to be wanted by him so badly.

“Like a toy,” he concurred. He grabbed the arm of her sofa and pounded her unmercifully. It was like he hammered heat and bliss into her gut and it crept up to her chest and face. Her chest heaved. She ran her fingers through Damien’s silky hair. He kissed her palm, and when her hand drifted down his jaw, he caught two of her fingers in his mouth. He parted her pointer and middle fingers with his tongue and licked the webbing between them like he did when he wanted to be a crass, nasty bastard. As juvenile and stupid as it was, it pushed Vicky closer to the edge, like all he wanted was to lay between her legs and eat her like a lollipop.

Damien grunted. His thrusts became sloppy. With his eyes glued to her, he pumped her full of his seed. She watched him finish with a patient smile. He was so cute when he climaxed.

“Holy shit,” he breathed as he pulled his flaccid cock out of her. His cum coated him. It oozed onto her thighs. He pulled her lips open and watched it flow. When he looked back up at her, he had that awful, shit-eating grin that always went straight to her groin, and then said, “I’m gonna clean you up, baby.”

Vicky was helpless against his whims. She only whimpered as he scooted down to her pussy like a dream come true.

First, Damien licked up her. She covered her warm face. Already, he was so wonderful, overwhelming, fantastical. Three licks into his prize, a prize because Vicky felt as golden as a trophy, his pointed tongue pressed on. He lapped up his cum like a hungry cat, he even plunged inside and sucked it out. When he finished, he did a slow, torturous victory lap up to her clitoris that made her beg.

She grabbed his horn and pulled him against her crotch as hard as she possibly could have. He seemed to enjoy it. Damien pushed his fingers into her, and then he hooked them against the roof of her canal, and in conjunction with his oral treatment, it made her squirm and press herself against him, unable to conjure the means to tell him to go harder, faster.

“I love you, Damien,” Vicky finally gasped as her fingers ran through his silky hair, “please keep going!”

Damien picked up the pace. Her legs clenched around his impish ears. Vicky was helpless, because Damien was a fucking expert and her own whorishness worked against her. Her chest locked up. It was like she was overcome with a tidal wave of heat and loveliness.

Vicky helplessly laid as her chest heaved. Down and down she went, until she finally rolled her eyes forward to meet Damien's face on her chest. He wiped cum off his chin and then kissed her. "You're pretty metal, babe,” he said, “you held out for awhile."

"I have experience," she said. "Can we go lay down? This isn't the best place for post-coital snuggling."

Damien pulled Vicky to her feet. Inside her bedroom, she fell onto her bed, blissful and sated, secure in Damien's arms. Vera told her time and time that her relationship with men wasn't healthy, and Vicky knew her self-esteem was fueled by whoever her partner happened to be. But Vicky was an addict. She couldn't help herself.

"I love you, Vicky," Damien told her, as his fingertips traced her side.

She smiled. "I love you too, Damien," and all was well with the world.

---

Vicky and Damien went to school together, hand-in-hand, until Vera and Liam caught them together, and whisked her away to gossip.

“Sweet mother of god,” Liam said as they power walked to the back of campus, “did you guys spend the night together?"

“Yes,” Vicky replied.

“Like, in your bed?”

“... yeah. He’s my boyfriend. The loveseat isn’t long enough for him to sleep on to begin with. That’d be like stuffing a banana into a really tiny tupperware container, or a croc in a storm drain.”

“Where the hell do you come up with these comparisons? You know what? Never mind, I don’t want to know,” Liam said. “Let’s rewind. First of all, I wanna know how all this happened. I’ve known Damien for a couple of years now and I don’t think he’s been with anyone who he’s come to school with.”

“Oh boy. I’ve been trying to get this to happen for awhile now, so I’ll give you the condensed version. Apparently, we liked each other, and were just too stubborn to talk about it until Vera made us talk about it yesterday.”

Vera sighed. “You know that’s not it.”

“Well, we did it last night,” Vicky replied.

"Wait, what? Mother of God, you two work fast. Was it any good?"

"It was fantastic," Vicky sighed wistfully. "He lasted forever, first of all. But he was so good. He finished in me, and then he got in there and cleaned it up with his mouth."

"Oh. Oh wow, that's hot," Liam mumbled.

"That… that is actually really hot, but that wasn't what I meant."

“Vera, are you talking about Damien’s polyamory?” Liam asked.

Apparently everyone but Vicky knew about it. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. "When we talked about it yesterday, it really stressed him out."

"Vicky…" Vera sighed, "I understand you don't want to make him uncomfortable, but you need to ask him about this. You deserve to know."

The way Vera talked about it, like Damien was a diseased whore and Vicky needed his bill of health, put her on edge. "We can talk about it when he's ready. I don't mind sharing Damien, and if it's someone likable enough, I might even partake myself. But this is something that really upsets him when he has to talk about it."

Vera stopped in front of Vicky, arms crossed over her chest and a look as stony as her victims. "You're his fucking girlfriend," Vera said. "I don't care if it makes him uncomfortable. You deserve his honesty. He doesn't get to pull the mysterious boyfriend shit like he's the love interest from a young adult novel, you two are partners, and he has to behave as such. No secrets. No beating around the bush."

"You're not being fair to Damien. He's not trying to hide things from Vicky. He's not the brightest, most socially skilled guy, but he's a good friend," Liam said.

"Is it fair to Vicky that she has to wonder who this other guy is?"

"That's enough," Vicky snapped. "I see your point Vera. I'll ask him about who else he's interested in, but I'm not gonna push. I know you're implying he might be keeping other partners a secret. But I trust Damien. He hasn't given me a reason to distrust him in the last year I've known him. He's sweet, he's just more awkward than he likes to let on, like Liam said. But I know you guys are just looking out for me, so I'll keep you guys in the loop. We'll talk about it if there's something that's setting off alarm bells for you."

Vera gritted her teeth. "Fine. Out of respect for you, I'll stand down. Just remember you deserve only the best."

"Thank you," Vicky replied with a grateful smile.

---

Oz’s goo churned. He wondered what made him so nervous. Everything was so peaceful, and Zoe hummed atonally as she scribbled in her notebook.

“Zoe,” Oz whispered, “do you feel like something terrible is going to happen?”

“I don’t feel like much of anything right now,” she replied. “Are you okay? Oz?”

He exhaled. His eyes went dark.

And then Oz was in a lab. Rather, it was like he watched through a fisheye lens from his chest. He folded saran wrap around kilos of cocaine. He didn’t care much for coke, he certainly wanted nowhere near a coke house to begin with.

“Put your fucking hands up!”

His head whipped up. Oz saw the spiral of the rifle’s barrel and then a flash.

He trembled. He tasted cotton candy and he was fucking exhausted.

“Oz!” Zoe bled into his vision like water color. “Oh my god, Oz, are you okay? You started convulsing and speaking in tongues, and as hot as that was---”

“Stop, Zoe,” Oz groaned. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“Oz, what the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said as he massaged between his eyes. “I was… I was in this lab wrapping drugs, and then I think I was shot point blank.”

“Oh my god, that’s horrible,” Zoe said. “That’s so vivid…. I thought you were just having a seizure because of my awesome fic. I think you had a premonition, though. At least that's how my premonitions have been happening since I've inhabited this form. Our friends could be in danger, we have to investigate this.”

Oz held his head. Zoe was right, but he was scared. What if they were too late? As old as Oz was, he wasn’t omnipotent.

---

For hours, Vicky pondered Vera’s argument. Vera, of course, was right. She didn’t know much about Damien’s love life to begin with. The more Vicky thought about it, the more it seemed like something that they should have discussed from the get-go.

Still, she was nervous. She picked at her dinner. Damien had already gone through three servings and the only thing Vicky had done with her food is turned it into a weird, macerated pile of pasta and beef.

"Are you gonna eat that?" he asked.

Vicky pushed her plate towards Damien. "No. You're welcome to it."

"This stroganoff is fucking awesome. Why don't you bring your own lunch? Fuck, I'd stab a dozen of our classmates for this shit. This is almost as good as my dad's cooking."

"Really?" she said. Damien nodded as he shovelled more pasta down the hatch. "Y'know, I'd like some help with the dishes."

"Sure thing."

They stood next to each other, and Damien happily whistled an army cadence. "You know," Damien began, "I never really thought I'd like this domestic shit. I know my dads defrag at home, where everything is simpler than impending war. I just didn't think I'd be like them."

"I assume you're a lot like your dads. You got your sweetness from somewhere," Vicky said.

"Same goes for my violent streak." They wrapped up. Damien flicked his wet fingers into the sink. "Y'know, I've been wondering how you died for awhile now. You're so… I don't know, homely, I guess? But you're stitched to shit. It's like someone popped your head into another body."

"That's pretty much exactly how that happened. My dad drank heavily. He got into a car accident and I wasn't wearing a seatbelt. I don't remember much after that until my dad's great uncle, who was a… geneticist, I think, reanimated me."

"How come we've never met him? Actually, why do you even live alone? You're only in high school."

"Gary, the man who reanimated me, died six years ago."

"So you've been living on your own for six years?"

"No." Vicky's talons sunk into her wash cloth. "Gary's brother Eugene took me in. I moved out two years ago."

Two years too little. Eugene still felt close by. She still felt his hands on her shoulders and his cum on her clothes. Her backside stung. She wanted to throw up.

"Vicky?" Damien's voice sounded distant. She rocked in place, the entire world oscillated. She wobbled over to the couch and laid down.

Vicky was still dead in a lot of ways. She had a home, and was still homeless. She had friends, yet she had no family. Vicky was happy, on the outside. On the inside was a violent maelstrom of taint and cum and self-loathing that violently pummeled her.

"Vera, I don't know what to do. Vicky and I were talking about this Eugene guy and she completely checked out. I-I don't think she can even hear me right now…. Yeah, I'll pass you over. I just need a second."

Damien clasped Vicky's shoulder. "Babe?" he said, "Vera wants to talk to you."

Vicky gingerly held his phone against her ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, sweetie. Are you safe?"

"No."

"Who hurt you?"

"Eugene is still here," Vicky said. "He never left. He recycles everything in my dreams. I wish I had died that day."

"Where is Eugene now? Is he still at your place?"

"I don't think so."

"Did Damien help him hurt you?"

"I don't know who Damien is."

"He's a friend, okay? You can trust him. I need your help, though. Can you breathe with me for a minute?"

"Okay."

"I'm going to count to seven. Inhale for me." Vera counted. Vicky breathed in. "Hold it… now exhale until I count to seven." Vicky exhaled. "Now, rub your arms, Vicky. Rub the couch. What does the couch feel like?"

"It's kinda coarse. But not in an itchy way."

"Okay. What color are Damien's eyes?"

Vicky's eyes met with Damien's. They were gold, in a sad way. He looked worried. "They're yellow," she said.

"What else is yellow there?"

"The throw pillow. The one that's got braids on it. The kitchen has a yellow ladle. Well, the handle is yellow, the bowl is stained since I didn't rinse it off when I had tomato soup a couple months ago."

"Gross," Vera laughed. "Okay. One more thing. What do you hear?"

"I think my ears are ringing. No, that's an ambulance. Did you call an ambulance?"

"No. They're just passing by. How do you feel?"

Vicky sat up. "Present," she said.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

She looked into Damien's eyes. He seemed reserved. Vicky got the feeling he was conflicted. She hadn't had an episode like that in months, and Damien deserved an explanation.

"I do, but I'll fill you in later," Vicky said.

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

Vicky returned Damien's phone. "What the fuck was that?" Damien asked.

"Look… I have issues left over from the accident. Sometimes, I think back to it and I completely implode."

"Implode is about right. Is all that really from your accident?"

Vicky frowned. Why did her issues have to be so apparent that she had to bare her soul to everyone? All Vicky wanted was peace. But no, Damien had to pick and pry and fucking prod.

"It's in the past. I don't have to talk about it."

"You don't--- fuck, it's clearly not in the motherfucking past if you're still freaking out about it!"

"Fine!" Vicky snapped, "you want to know the truth? My dad beat the living shit out of me. I got three broken ribs, a broken finger, and a concussion before they divorced. Despite all this evidence, my dad managed to bail himself out and get weekend visitations un-fucking-supervised. He drank like a fucking racoon, and when he got drunk, he got madder! He unbuckled me and threw me against the dash when I was giving him lip. When I struggling to get away, he swerved into a fucking pole and I went through the windshield!"

"And of course, his damn uncle is a freak and had to bring me back for his precious research. I was tied to a table for years before he died. I was gonna starve on that table. But then Eugene saved me. But everything comes at a motherfucking price. I had to make sure his house was clean and he was jerked off. Day after day, and nobody helped me! No, you all just think this is an amazing survival story. I'm dying inside, and you all get to sit down and forget about it the second you leave my company. So I don't want to fucking talk about it anymore."

Vicky was so mad, her vision blurred. Her hair stood on end, and she shook like she clung to the ceiling of a steep fall. Damien was taken aback. He was probably mad. Vicky just wanted him gone, though. He was like everyone else. He picked at her wounds.

"Vicky," he whispered.

"Leave!" she boomed. "You're like everyone else. You don't care about me."

"Don't you ever say that!" he screamed. "I love you so much, it hurts, and it hurts even more knowing the pain you've been through." He grabbed her by her shoulders and threw her into his embrace. "I would kill hundreds of people if it made you happy," he said.

Vicky tried to shove him off her. "Let go of me," she barked, "get the hell out of my house!"

"No. I'm staying here."

Vicky hit his kidney. Damien's hold loosened as he crumpled to the floor. "No! You don't get to pick at my wounds and keep your own damn secrets. Get out of my house, you edgy, self-absorbed bastard!"

"Fuck!" Damien cursed. "It's Brian, okay? But that doesn't fucking matter to me right now. You're hurting and it's at least partially my fault. You're fucking right. I'm not the most sensitive guy, but I love you so much, I would do anything for you, absolutely anything. I'm going to fix what I did wrong. I'm going to stay with you, even after you move past this."

Vicky was at a loss for words. She began to cry. She joined Damien on the floor, and then she lifted his shirt to look where she hit him. There was a fist-sized bruise there, the color of blueberries. "I'm sorry," she wept. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Damien sighed. "I'm okay." Damien sat up a grunt, exhaled harshly, and then hugged her like she was tiny and fragile. "It's okay. We're okay, baby."

She held him so tightly. He was slender. He was sturdy. "It's not okay. I said terrible things. I hit you."

"It's fine. It gave me wood, so we're even."

Vicky laughed. "Okay." She wiped her eyes. "I love you. I was just scared. And it hurts. It always hurts."

"I want to make your hurt go away. I know that I can't though. I'm here to comfort you, though. I'll always protect you."

Damien held the back of her neck. It seemed like forever that she stared into his eyes. Time was weird for Vicky. But she didn't particularly care, because Damien kissed her like she was sweet and fragile and priceless.

#monster prom #vicky schmidt #damien lavey #brian yu #oz monster prom #zoe monster prom #brian/damien/vicky #oz/zoe #platonic brian/oz/zoe #this is twice now I've posted this fic to the wrong blog

[brokemultidotexe]

Second Chances Pt.5 | JJK

↬ Pairing: idol!jungkook x reader

↬ Summary: Even though it scared you, you knew you couldn’t walk away again. Big Hit allowed you to go on tour with the boys but with the promise to keep your relationship with the boys hidden from the public eye. The saying “good things never last” rings true as rumors of a secret romance makes its way online and suddenly the boys lives are put under a microscope and threats start pouring in. Jungkook does everything in his power to make sure you’ll stay, but what happens when the one thing you feared most comes true? [sequel to Unexpected]

↬ Word Count: 3.3k

↬ Warning/Rating: None/T

↬  Genre: Romance/Friendship

↬  Part: Trailer | Prologue [1 / 2] | 1 | 1.5 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

You enjoyed the few days you were able to steal with JK. You ended up spending quite a bit of time alone while the boys finished promoting while they were in America. Their growth in popularity surprised you. The six months you spent trying to escape everything BTS, ended up being when they exploded globally.

You found yourself missing JK more and more, and the more time you spent with him you didn't know how the two of you could handle the distance. When the boys had interviews you stayed at the hotel waiting for them to come back. It was during one of those times that Bang PD dropped by JK’s room to talk to you.

“Are you enjoying your time here?” he asked with a smile as the two of you sat at the small table off to the side.

“Very much so...It’s been nice being able to see everyone again.” you gave him a hesitant smile. You weren’t sure why he had stopped by and your mind was thinking of all the worst scenarios. Would he ask you to stay away from JK and never talk to him again? The thought alone made your stomach sink.

“I know everyone has enjoyed seeing you again, especially Jungkook. The change in him since you’ve been here is astronomical. It’s been nice to have him smiling again and showing the passion he had lost during the time you two have been apart.”

You felt the need to interrupt, “Please know that I never meant to cause such a disruption within the group and staff. I thought I was doing the right thing for the both of us.” you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty Y/N. I see why you did it and if it was anyone else I would have said that you probably did the right thing, but when Jungkook is passionate about something he’s all in. He doesn’t do anything halfway and when it comes you, you are everything to him. We had many talks throughout the whole time he was struggling and I came to realize just how important you were to him and that this wasn’t some meaningless relationship that wouldn’t last.” he gave you an encouraging smile. “I’m not here to be the bearer of bad news Y/N. It’s actually the opposite. I had a meeting with the staff about our next destination during this tour and all of them were very happy with the way you had handled the award show for all of us. I wanted to ask you if you would be interested in being a part of our team as an interpreter for the duration of the tour.”

Your eyes went wide with shock. A job offer was the last thing you expected to hear “...wait, what?” you stuttered.

He laughed, “I’m asking if you want to be the boy’s interpreter for the rest of the tour. This would mean you would travel with boys and the staff and help out anyone that needed it.”

You leaned back in your chair as you continued to try and wrap your head around what he was asking. Being an interpreter for Big Hit was a huge opportunity and you knew this type of opportunity didn’t come around very often. You were so excited to be able to have the opportunity to do something you loved and that would allow you to travel.

“Y/N this would allow you to be with Jungkook instead of having to be apart again, but I feel the need to remind you of my original request when the two of you came to me. If you do decide to be part of the tour then you both will have to make sure that the public doesn’t find out. We don’t want a dating scandal to surround the boys. We want the spotlight to be on their music and who they are as people, not about the fact they are dating someone. Please don’t misunderstand this as I don’t want the two of you together because that’s not what I'm saying. I think the two of you are great together, but I'm requesting this from a CEO standpoint.”

You understood why he requested that from the two of you, but it didn’t suck any less. Would going on tour with him cause distractions? Would you be able to handle the fans and what they say? Would the stress of the tour cause strain on your relationship? A million thoughts were going through your mind to the point that forming an answer was difficult.

“How about you think about it and you let me know?” He stood up and you looked up at him.

You watched as he turned to leave, “Wait!” his hand hovered over the door handle. “I’ll do it. I’ll be an interpreter for Big Hit.” you blurted out. Apparently, your heart knew what it wanted because you felt like you hadn’t decided yet, but the thought of giving up the opportunity and not seeing JK for a while scared you.

Bang PD turned and smiled at you, “I will tell them to get the paperwork ready and you can sign it later today.”

“Is it okay if I'm the one that tells him?” you felt excitement at getting to see his face when he found out.

“Of course. I’ll make sure to tell the staff to keep it a secret for now.”

“Thank you.” you stood and bowed deeply.

He smiled and left the room after telling you that the boys are done with the schedules and should be back soon. You decided to lay on the bed and let everything that just happened sink in even more. You couldn’t believe that you just landed your dream job and it allowed you to be next to JK. It didn’t take long before you sobered up and realized that you were going to have to tell your parents that you were leaving again and you weren’t sure when you would be back since Big Hit was constantly adding more dates because the demand for tickets is so high. You closed your eyes and sighed, hopefully, your mother would take it better the second time around. You still remembered her break down over you no longer living there after you decided to stay even longer than you originally planned. You couldn’t help that you fell in love with more than just Korea.

You heard a beep and knew that JK was back from the interviews. Both of you smiled when your eyes connected. You still had a flutter in your stomach every time you saw him. The saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ is totally true. JK dropped everything he was holding and crawled on the bed and pulled you to lay down and wrapped his arms and legs around you. “I feel like my brain is mush after all those interviews. I really should have studied English more.”

You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. You knew the struggle of foreign languages and their sudden rise in western popularity caused all of them to have to sharpen their English skills in a short period. “It gets better, plus you have me here.”

JK buried his face in your neck, “Having you here is the best thing ever, but I can’t take you to interviews with me.” His head shot up startling you, “Oh! We can lock the interpreter in a closet somewhere and you can pose as our interpreter.” he nodded to himself, “I like this plan.”

You looked at him with a knowing smile and it solidified your feelings over going on tour with them. “When do you guys leave?” The smile and happiness fell from his face quickly as the awful truth came up.

JK ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, “Tomorrow.” you felt bad for making him feel this way but you really wanted to surprise him and giving such good news after bad news was the best thing you could think of. “Can we go and beg the staff to find some more interviews? I’ll torture myself with English for a whole day if it gave me just a few more hours with you. He looked in your eyes and your heart skipped a beat. He had always made you feel so loved even when he wasn’t trying.

“Well…” you let your statement hang in the air until he raised an  eyebrow waiting for you to continue, “what if I just accept Bang PD’s job offer of being an interpreter for Big Hit for the rest of the tour?”

He sat up quickly and looked down at you, “What?”

You sat up so you were eye level with him, “Bang PD came here to talk to me less than an hour ago. He offered me a job to work as an interpreter for the staff during the rest of the tour. I mean I don’t know what will happen after that or if--”

You were surging forward before and before you could completely register what happened your lips crashed into his. You expected words from him but the feeling of his lips moving on yours spoke louder than words. He pulled you closer and broke the kiss to put his forehead against yours.

“Please tell me I didn’t hear you wrong,” he whispered desperately.

“You didn’t hear me wrong,” you said squashing his worries.

You had been surprised before when he pulled you into a kiss but that seemed miniscule compared to now. He pulled you closer and flipped the both of you over so he was on top of you. He caged you in underneath him and the air around the two of you changed when your eyes met. “I love you.” He leaned down and placed his lips on yours. This kiss was different than any of the other kisses the two of you had shared. Most of them being rushed but passionate kisses or quick pecks here and there. Instead of you being against a hotel room wall your back was pressed against the bed and kissed you deeply. As if all the feelings he had kept stored away because of the circumstances was now flooding out and you felt overwhelmed.

He positioned himself so he could slide his fingers into your hair and you felt a light tug causing you to moan and you could feel him fisting the comforter beneath you. Your fingers were itching to touch him so you ran your hands up his arms as he continued to kiss you deepening it even more. This is what happiness felt like and it felt good to finally feel at home again. You had never been so sure of a decision as he pulled back and looked down at you and smiled. Seeing the pure happiness in his eyes made everything the two of you went through to get to this moment worth it. You knew that you never wanted to be a part from him again and made a promise that you would do everything to make sure the two of you never had to experience that pain again.

AN: I know it’s been forever since I updated this story and I’m so sorry! I had major writer's block with it. I'm going to do my best to try and not have so much time between this and ch.6. I hope you all enjoyed it and it was worth the wait!

#kpopwonderlandtag #bangtanarmynet #yoonkooknetwork #btsguild #kthjjknet #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jimin #jin #jhope #v #rm #suga #seokjin #hoseok #taehyung #namjoon #yoongi #bts jimin #bts jin

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

Hello senpai! How are you? Hope you doing good!! 🤗 Here I am, to request Aomine's scenario when his wife calls him to meet her at their favorite place (it's up to you) only to tell him that she's pregnant.. At first Daiki feel her is about to tell something bad but wrong hehehe.. Thankss

Hello my dear! I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to write this… But I really hope it’s to your liking!! > o

Aomine had just finished an important meeting, dealing with the biggest case of his career, and he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly anxious. He’d think speaking in front of thirty fellow officers would make his stomach twist in knots, their stares a mix of awe, curiosity and animosity. But no, that did not make him blink twice.

The phone call from you, however, has him wired.

You’d asked him to meet you at the public park, on the very bench he’d asked you out on your first date.. The very same spot he’d asked you two years ago to be his wife..

His wife….

The knots in his stomach slowly settle as the image of you in that gorgeous white dress invaded his mind. The frown, deep and furrowed in worry, slowly melts into a soft smile when you walked down the aisle to meet him. To become his for the rest of your lives..

Aomine stops then, slightly out of breath from running, and watches with wonder, as you sit at the very bench where your entire lives changed… How you two had been inseparable since high school.. Wind tousles your hair, and despite the slight autumn chill, your expression never changes. 

He takes this moment to switch his view, wondering what had caught your attention. There was a small family; a mother, father, and two children, running around the field. When he takes a closer look, he sees the mother has a third child, sleeping quietly within her arms, at peace.. Protected..

His heart skips a beat, turning his attention back towards you, only to feel his eyes widen.He’s not sure what the reason is for your sudden change, but he doesn’t hesitate. He finds himself running to your spot, cupping your cheeks between his hands as he begins assessing you. 

You don’t know what to make of his reaction, startled by his presence alone. But you find his collective gaze causes butterflies to dance in your stomach, and a smile to grace your lips.

“It’s nice to see you, Dai-chan…”

He pauses, wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his fingers, before pressing soft kisses in their place. A blush erupts on your skin from his open affection, small giggles filling the silence. Your hand finds his, lacing your fingers together as you pull him onto the bench.

“Is everything okay, ____?”

Aomine watches as you crawl onto his lap, uncaring of his police uniform and bury your face in his neck. Out in public, he usually stiffens or gets nervous, but the only attention on him is from you, and he finds himself at peace. His left arm wraps around you, lightly massaging your sides as he plants a kiss to your forehead, uncaring of the world around him.

You don’t answer him for a few minutes, biting your bottom lip as anxiety begins to overwhelm you. Aomine’s presence helps ease it, but you feel the silence starts to bother him, feeling him shift slightly on the bench.

“… I… I went to the doctor today..”

He freezes, though unsure if it’s due to your soft tone or the way your heart beats fast against his chest. He focuses on you, but doesn’t make an effort to speak, in case a noise he doesn’t want to make escapes his throat.

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, you grab his free hand, placing it on your belly as your cheeks burn and eyes begin to fill with tears.

“Daiki…” you whisper, watching the many emotions flicker within those navy hues. “… I.. I’m pregnant..”

He blinks, eyes widening as his mouth opens in shock. No sound comes from him, but you watch his face, trying so hard not to laugh, but also not wanting to cry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, or if this reaction is good or bad.. But the tightening of his arms around you don’t go unnoticed..

His brain is numb, heart overflowing with emotion and he wants to convey how he feels.. How… happy he is to hear you’re carrying his child.. But everything becomes difficult.. As though he lost all control of his body. 

You’re pregnant… With his child…

His… 

Just like that, his mouth seeks yours, muffling the gasp from your throat and the whine that leaves his. He feels the tears falling down your cheeks, but pays them no attention, knowing they’re of happiness. His fingers thread through your hair, holding you as close as possible, without hurting you or the baby..

By the time he pulls back, both your cheeks are flushed from lack of oxygen, but his face is lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. He moves to press one last kiss to your forehead, lingering softly as he inhales your scent, a couple tears escaping his eyes.

You gently wipe it away, moving to cup his cheek as he softly massages your belly, the grin never fading..

“_____…” he whispers, soft and tender, “I fucking love you…. So much..”

You burst out laughing, resting your forehead against his as you collect your thoughts..

“I tell you, I’m pregnant… And the first thing that leaves your lips is curse words…” You sigh softly, before looking at him with mirth, “Oh Daiki… What am I going to do with you?”

At that, his lips turn into a smirk, and stands up fast, feeling your arms wrap around his neck.

“Well… Why don’t I get you home and show you… My darling wife?”

#knb imagines #knb scenarios #aomine daiki #adult AU #fluff #kazuhikonaori

[dabidevito]

[fic] i’m here waiting (if you want it back)

read on ao3

summary: He thought it would get easier. Thought they would get older and more settled and that the ache in his chest he feels when Dan’s not around would eventually subside.

or, three times phil finds himself in dan's closet while he's missing him

a/n: seeing phil in the vetements hoodie did something to me and i'm not even sorry. this is self-indulgent. please shame me for my clothes sharing kink.

July 2015

The thing about not actually being one person means that sometimes they do things alone. Sometimes they take separate projects and make separate commitments and that’s okay. Sometimes Dan gets on a redeye flight to Germany and Phil wakes up in cold sheets, and that feels less okay, in the moment.

It’s not cold though, not really. July is hot and unending and Phil decides that he’s allowed to spend the day in just his pants. And the next day, and the day after that. No one’s around to see him, anyway.

He thought it would get easier. Thought they would get older and more settled and that the ache in his chest he feels when Dan’s not around would eventually subside.

Dan texts him a picture of a dog in the Berlin streets and Phil says give him a pet from me.

Dan’s immediate response of :((( pretty much sums it up, he thinks.

The timer’s ticking away at the back of his mind as he crawls into bed on the fifth day, counting down the hours until Dan’s flight lands. Calculating how long the taxi ride will be from the airport, trying to remember how many steps their flat has. It’s early still, only half-ten, but Phil’s convinced himself that time speeds up while you’re sleeping.

There’s a hot breeze blowing through the open window but Phil’s still cold somehow, the usual radiator-like Dan-warmth a stark absence against the sheets.

An avalanche of clothes spills out of their closet, a remnant of the last-minute packing procedure Phil’s maniac boyfriend seems to prefer. Phil pulls himself out of bed, rummages around in the semi-darkness for the first t-shirt he can find. He holds it close to his face, trying to make out the pattern without his glasses.

(Dan had said I’m wearing it ironically, you spoon and Phil had just smirked and asked if he fancied Zayn or Niall more.)

It’s soft and worn through and smells faintly like Dan’s body wash, like he’d put it on only to change his mind and chuck it back into the closet. Phil pulls it over his head and climbs back into bed, laying directly in the middle so that there’s no chance he won’t wake when Dan gets back.

He’s hurtling towards unconsciousness when he hears Dan’s heavy footsteps on the landing, feels the dip in the mattress as Dan sits to take off his shoes. Warm arms wrap around him from behind, easily maneuvering Phil back over to his own side of the bed.  

Phil turns around, nudging a knee between Dan’s thighs. “Hi,” he tells the jut of Dan’s collarbones. “How was Germany?”

“I missed you.”

Phil’s about to say that doesn’t answer my question. But then again, maybe it does. He settles for I missed you too and lets Dan pull the stupid One Direction shirt off of him.

It’s too hot for clothes, anyway.

***

December 2017

Phil wonders if he’ll ever get to stop missing Dan on Christmas.

This year had been better than all the rest, with Dan travelling up north with him in the lead up to the holiday. It settles something in his heart to round the corner of the kitchen and see his mum and Dan sat at the breakfast nook together, sipping morning tea and laughing quietly. Kath pops up from her seat to make Phil a coffee, still mothering him after three decades. He lets her, sinks down in the chair across from Dan and props his feet up in Dan’s lap.

He looks over at Dan, sleepy curls yet untamed and Christmas lights casting rainbows across his skin.

Phil feels overwhelmed with the thought of it’s not fair.

He says don’t go and Dan looks like he wants nothing more than to relent, rubs soft circles into Phil’s ankle.

But Dan goes anyway, kisses the corner of Phil’s mouth and says see you soon and I’ll call you tonight and Phil wonders if it’s good or bad that it never seems to get any easier to say goodbye.

He wakes up to 18 texts from Dan, variations on a theme of merry christmas phil and i love you and i wish you were here and colin says hello and Phil thinks it should be illegal to feel this sort of heartache on Christmas.

Phil forces himself out of bed, making a beeline for his suitcase. He passes over a few of his jumpers for one that’s been folded carefully and hidden away at the bottom of his bag.

Dan would kill him if he knew Phil had stolen it out of their laundry last week, sequestered it away just for this trip. He’d torn into Dan when it had arrived in the mail, outraged that his boyfriend could bear to drop 500 quid on a jumper. But Phil had come to secretly love it, lured in by the truly superior cuddles provided by the soft black wool.

He slips the garment over his head, a barrier against the chill of the morning and the sadness in his heart.

Downstairs, Kath once again presses a warm mug into his hands. Coffee takes precedence in the Lester household, even more so than the gifts waiting under the tree. She eyes him carefully, running the fabric of his sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. “Is this new, Philip?”

He could tell the truth. There’s no penalty here, no risk, no hiding. It’s not a secret that he misses Dan, that he’s the only one here without his other half.

“Yeah,” he chokes out instead, “it’s new.” He does his best to avoid her measured gaze. It’s a bad lie, and they both know it.

She pries the coffee out of his death grip, pulls him down by the shoulder and into her arms. He goes willingly, folds his long body in half around hers and does his best to suppress his tears. It doesn’t work.

It’s about more than a few days apart, it always is with them.

It’s not missing Dan so much as it’s missing a piece of life that’s been stolen from them.

Later, he folds the jumper back into the bottom of his suitcase. He’ll hang it up in Dan’s closet when they get home.

***

April 2018

Phil should really get up.

They’ve still got loads to do and just under two weeks to do it. They don’t usually work on Sundays, but he’d still spent the day playing catch up with tour emails, finalizing some decisions, on the phone with the Brazil venue for ages trying to work out the all-consuming visa issues.

And so he’d laid down for just a second, just long enough to read through the live update texts Dan’s been sending him from the wedding.

The ceremony is for a friend of a friend of a friend, someone Dan had gone to school with and who Phil had never bothered to meet. Dan had said you can come if you want but that conversation had been over before it even started, and they both knew it.

Sometimes it’s still easier like this, with people who aren’t quite strangers but who definitely aren’t friends either. With month after month of very public appearances staring them in the face, Phil had opted to sit this one out.

Dan’s latest texts say the cake is red velvet :( and i’ll bring you a piece and then i’ll bring you two pieces i miss you.

There’s a familiar and heavy weight settling in his chest. He’s up and standing in front of Dan’s closet before he can worry too much about what it all means.

He rifles through the hangers, searching for something large and soft and good for cuddling. The Ventements hoodie catches his eye - Dan had insisted on him trying it on for their latest video, and it’s hanging up front and center in the closet. Phil hates the way it looks on him, if he’s being honest. He’s been warming up to black recently, but the hoodie dwarfs him and really doesn’t match his aesthetic, if he even has one.

He thinks about how there’ll be room for Dan to fit both his arms up underneath it and tugs it on anyway.

There’s exhaustion seeping into his bones as he drags their duvet out into the lounge to wait for Dan. He queues up some Bake-Off reruns and lets himself drift for awhile. His laptop taunts him from where he’d abandoned it on the coffee table, and he’s just about to give in and resume his emailing when he hears Dan’s key turning in the lock.

Phil lowers the volume on the TV, snuggles down further into his blanket nest and feigns sleep. He doesn’t want to hear about the wedding, not tonight. He wants Dan under the blanket and in his arms - everything else can wait.

He cracks his eyes open just a sliver to watch Dan shuffle into the kitchen with what looks like a truly enormous container of cake, but closes them again quickly. He’s sleeping.

Phil sees it in his mind’s eye, Dan folding long legs up under himself to sit on the floor next to the couch. There’s a few stray strands of hair tickling his forehead, and Dan reaches a hand up to brush them back into place. Phil can’t help but lean into the touch, effectively giving himself away.

Dan voice is soft and tired when he says you’re such a bad liar, Phil and make some room for me, you look warm. Phil presses himself into the back of the couch, lifts the edge of the duvet up. Dan curls himself into the empty space and exhales a sigh against Phil’s skin, sticks cold fingers up under the hem of his hoodie.  

The quiet envelopes them as they lie there, both of them far too big for it to be comfortable for very long. But for now it’s okay, for now Phil combs his fingers through Dan’s curls and listens to the gentle sounds of him decompressing from the day.

Eventually, Dan says, “I thought you hated this jumper,” stretches up to press a kiss against Phil’s jaw.

Phil shuffles down so that more of Dan’s arms slip under the hem. “It has it perks,” he says, cups a sweater-pawed hand under Dan’s chin to kiss him more soundly. Dan is giggling into his mouth and pressing fingers more deliberately against his skin, and it’s incredible how easily Dan can erase the dullness Phil feels when they’re apart.

(They’ll be conjoined at the hip for the next five months, but he’ll pack some of Dan’s clothes anyway.)

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp #dan and phil #i banged this out at work today someone appreciate me !!! #*roses #*rosewrites #100

[ofknightsandpages]

You Don’t Need Poltergeists For Sidekicks

Summary: This is a short story I wrote based off of the song Ghosting by Mother Mother from the album O My Heart. I’m still improving on my writing skills, so this is probably the first of many stories like this.

Warnings: angst, drowning, ghosts, homophobia, crying, homosexuality (though I don’t exactly know who that would be a problem for, it put that there anyway)

Word Count: 2,901

Jeremy had been watching Alex ever since he had died. He was completely infatuated with Alex and everything Alex did. He would follow Alex almost everywhere the boy went, except of course when Alex was using the bathroom. Jeremy may be a ghost, but he wasn’t a perve. Although, it didn’t matter much anyway because Alex couldn’t see Jeremy. 

When Jeremy had died and first found Alex he would try to get the boy to see him. Jeremy would write his name on fogged over windows and on Alex’s notebooks. Of course, Alex still couldn’t see Jeremy, despite all of his attempts. One night Jeremy had gotten angry at Alex and he knocked the books off of Alex’s bookshelves, broke the lamp on Alex’s nightstand, ripped the pages out of his notebooks, and pushed his mattress off of its frame. Jeremy could still remember the fear in Alex’s eyes once he had destroyed his room. After that Jeremy stopped trying to get Alex to see him and instead just watched Alex.

Their day had started off fairly normal, Jeremy sat in Alex’s desk chair and watched him sluggishly get out of bed. When Alex began changing his clothes, Jeremy turned the chair around to face away from him, startling Alex in the process. Jeremy cringed at Alex’s gasp and the bump of Alex’s phone falling from his nightstand to the floor. This happened all the time and Jeremy scolded himself every time it did but he still managed to scare Alex.

Alex sighed and grumbled under his breath, pulling his pants the rest of the way up and walking out of his bedroom to the bathroom. Jeremy stood up from the chair and followed Alex as usual. Alex did his usual routine of combing his hair and brushing his teeth. Jeremy absentmindedly drew his name on the mirror. Alex’s eyes widened at the sight of Jeremy’s name and he quickly wiped the water off of the mirror and walked out of the bathroom.

Alex walked downstairs with Jeremy not far behind and grabbed a bowl of cereal. Alex’s mom smiled at him while she set a bowl of Cheerios in front of Alex’s baby sister.

“Alex sweetie, tomorrow can you hand out the candy? Your father and I are taking Ellie around the neighborhood,” she asked the question in a way that clearly meant that Alex didn’t have a choice.

Alex sighed, “Sure.”

“She’s only taking Ellie out to use her for candy,” Jeremy spoke even though Alex couldn’t hear him. He sat in front of Alex on the table. When Alex went to get another bite of cereal he shivered as his arm just went through Jeremy’s knee.

Alex put the spoon down and went to grab his backpack.

“I’m going to school Mom!” Alex called out before walking out the door.

Jeremy looked back at the still half full bowl of cereal before floating after him. “You didn’t finish your breakfast you know,” Jeremy looked to Alex who he was now floating beside, “you should have, though. You need to eat more.”

“Shut up.”

Jeremy stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. He then ran after Alex, forgetting that he could float.

“You can hear me! Holy- is this even real! Can you really hear me? Why haven’t you ever respond-”

“I said shut up!” Alex yelled in Jeremy’s general direction, but it was clear that he was looking straight through him. “I’m tired of hearing you everywhere I go! I’m tired of you following me! It wasn’t on purpose Jeremy, I’m sorry, ok?  Just leave me alone!” Alex began running to his school with tears in his eyes, running straight through Jeremy in the process and leaving Jeremy stunned.

He stood still for a few seconds until a couple of what Jeremy recognized as Alex’s classmates walked through him, whispering about how worried they were for Alex. Jeremy took a few more seconds of standing in the street before flying after Alex.

The first half of the day was fairly normal. Jeremy followed Alex around in the classrooms, sitting in empty seats and listening to the lessons. He didn’t talk to Alex, though. Instead, he was completely silent. He was confused, how did Alex know him? Well, besides writing his name on everything, of course.

When the bell rang for the end of the fourth period the teacher walked up to Alex before he could leave. He handed Alex a note and said, “The principal wants to see you.”

Alex sighed and grabbed the note before sauntering out of the room and down to the second floor with Jeremy not far behind.

The principal’s office was fairly bare, except for the far wall with framed children's pictures. Alex immediately recognized the pictures, having known some of the children himself. They were pictures of students who had died over the years, the principal put them up with their date of death in the bottom left corner of the photos. Alex refused to look at the newest addition to the wall, but Jeremy stared at it. The boy had curly red hair, freckles speckled all over his face and shoulders, and nose that looked way to big on his face. The boy looked familiar, but Jeremy couldn’t place his finger on where he had seen the boy before.

Jeremy turned away from the photo and sat in the large chair Alex was sitting in, his knee phasing throw Alex’s. He looked over at Alex and he was shocked by the cold, dead expression on his face.

The principal gulped. “Alex, do you know why you are here today?” Alex shook his head. “Well, so of your classmates were showing some concern about an uh, outbreak you had before school started today.” The principal waited for a response from Alex and continued when he got none, “They said you were yelling at nothing. They said you had mentioned Jeremy-”

“You don’t know jack about Jeremy!” Alex jumped to his feet and slammed his hands down on the principal’s desk with such force and rage that a stapler and pencil sharpener fell off of the desk. “None of you even knew Jeremy! You’re just using his death for publicity-”

“Mr. Ronbach sit down!” the principal shouted. Jeremy brought his knees to his chest as Alex slowly sat back down. The principal cleared his throat and straightened his tie. “Now I know you and Jeremy were… Close.”

Alex glared, “He was my boyfriend. Are you to homophobic to even acknowledge that not all of your beloved students are straight?” His words were full of venom that Jeremy had never heard before. Jeremy crawled over to Alex and sat through his lap, holding up his arms to hug Alex and trying not to let his phase through him.

The principal narrowed his eyes. “That was uncalled for.” He sighed and paused for a moment. “Your teachers and I think it would be good for you to have a break from school. You are clearly to grief ridden to be able to study effectively. So, we have issued a temporary suspension, starting today, to get yourself together. Your assignments and homework will be emailed to you. Please get those done before the suspension ends so you will be caught up when you get back. I have already called your mother, so you should pack your things and get ready to leave.”

Alex stared wide-eyed at the principal. “I’m sorry,” Jeremy whispered in his ear.

The car ride to Alex’s house was silent and tense. Alex’s mother didn’t speak to him until they got inside.

“Sweetie, if you need to talk about anything tell me, ok?”

“Whatever Mom,” Alex’s voice was cold and hard.

He walked upstairs and into his room. He fell on his bed and curled up into a ball. Jeremy laid down on the bed next to him and watched as tears began forming in Alex’s eyes.

“Jeremy,” Alex croaked, “Jeremy I’m so sorry. It’s, it’s all my fault you died. J-Jeremy…”

Jeremy felt an overwhelming urge to comfort the crying boy, and he moved closer to him until their foreheads were almost touching. “Shhh, it’s going to be ok, you’re going to be ok.”

“N-no I’m not! I’m so sorry I didn’t do anything to help-”

“It’s not your fault,” Jeremy tried to wipe a tear off of Alex’s cheek, but he could only move it a little bit further down his face. Jeremy didn’t completely understand what Alex was talking about, but he knew that whatever happened couldn’t have been Alex’s fault.

For another hour Alex repeating ‘I’m sorry’ while Jeremy whispered to him and eventually Alex fell asleep. Jeremy closed his eyes and moved his head towards Alex’s, but when his forehead phased through Alex’s all he could see was white.

Jeremy blinked a few times and turned in a circle. He was standing in a seemingly never-ending room of white with a little black speck in the distance. Jeremy hesitantly walked towards it before breaking into a sprint. The black spot slowly grew larger, and as Jeremy got closer to it he heard loud sobs that continued to get louder. Soon his surroundings turned gray and the walls started to crack. The sobs were now so loud that Jeremy’s ears were ringing.

“Alex! Alex where are you?” Jeremy could barely hear his own voice over the whimpers that he knew belonged to Alex.

“GO AWAY!!” the booming voice knocked Jeremy to the ground. It didn��t hurt as much physically as it didn’t mentally, Alex’s voice echoed through his mind and he knew Alex was hurting and it made his heart hurt.

“Alex! Alex listen to me! I’m not going to hurt you! I don’t really know what’s going on but we can figure this out! Please just, please let me help you!” He got to his feet tears draping his cheeks.

Alex’s sobs turned into whimpers and Jeremy could finally start to make out which direction they were coming from. He walked towards the sounds carefully to be sure he wouldn’t stumble upon Alex and scare him. Soon the noises stopped altogether. Jeremy could only keep walking in the same direction.

After what felt like forever Jeremy stopped in front of a door attached to nothing. It was black near the bottom and it faded to a dark purple near the top and white dots peppered the scene. It seemed familiar to Jeremy. Water seeped out from the bottom of the door and got Jeremy’s feet wet. He reached his hand out and knocked on the door.

“Alex? I’m coming in, is that ok?” Jeremy waited for a response and when he got none he opened the door. He was greeted with a soft warm glow. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, watching the floor that was covered in water. Fish were swimming around his feet, almost as if they were excited puppies welcoming their own home.

He looked up for the first time to examine the room. The ceiling was slanted and covered in posters and hanging light bulbs. The walls of the room had paintings of galaxies and maps for worlds that only existed in his dreams. The stars seemed to pulse in time with his shallow breaths. There was a desk tucked neatly into the corner of the room and on it were pictures of Alex and the red-haired boy from the principal's office. There was a laptop left open on the desk with what seemed to be an album cover on the screen with a big play button on the screen. Even though the track was paused the memory of light acoustic guitars and drums wrapped around his body. In the middle of the back wall was a window that was covered by a Celtic tapestry that blew gently in the nonexistent wind. Under the window was a bed covered with a comforter and pillows that had blue, black, and purple galaxies. Curled up on the bed was Alex’s shaking form with a trail of water leading from his face over the bed and to the floor.

Jeremy walked towards Alex, his feet gliding through the water as if it wasn’t even there. He gently placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder and after a small flinch, Alex melted into his touch.

“Alex?”

“What?”

Jeremy hesitated and looked back at the picture on the desk. “This is my room, isn’t it?”

Alex choked out a laugh, “Yeah, it is.” He turned over to look at Jeremy. “It’s your room but I felt way more at home here than I ever did with Mom.”

Jeremy sat down on the bed next to Alex’s head and like he had done many times before, Alex laid his head on Jeremy’s lap, looking at the picture on the walls. Jeremy ran his fingers through Alex’s hair and Alex sighed happily with tears threatening to sting his cheeks again.

“You used to sneak me out of my room at night and take me here. We would talk for hours like this about anything and everything. And when you started talking about space your eye lit up and the way you spoke made it feel like we were the only two people left in the world.” Alex started crying into Jeremy’s knees. “You were always so beautiful. Everything about you; your laugh, your smile, your voice, your personality, your art. You always made me feel so loved, to the point that my heart ached when you weren’t around. I was, am, so madly in love with you.”

Jeremy climbed the rest of the way onto the bed and leaned against the wall at the edge of the bed. He pulled the crying Alex over to him and rested his head on his lap like before.

“In the spring you would take me out to the lake and you would play in the water and chase fish around like a dork,” Alex was laughing now, too. “And we would camp out on the dock and when the sunset you would point out constellations to me until I fell asleep. In the summer you and I would paint the garage. We covered the walls and the garage door and each other in a jumbled mess of colors, and when I judged my work badly you’d mess up whatever you were working on and tell me that art is art. Then you would proceed to wipe your paint hands on me.”

Jeremy smiled down at Alex and absentmindedly traced his shoulders with the lightest of touches. “And in the fall we would make leaf piles in the roads and watch the cars run into them. We would ride our bikes around the streets and on Halloween, we would through splat balls at houses.”

There was a long soothing silence between the two of them as the music played softly.

Jeremy gulped and looked up at the ceiling. “Hey Alex, why did you keep saying it’s your fault I died?”

Alex was quiet for a moment. “It… it was a week before winter break and some other guys on the football team found out that we were dating. They weren’t exactly the nicest to homosexual students so they started targeting you and making fun of you, but you were so sweet that you thought they were just joking around. One night you told me that you were hanging out at the dock with the team. I knew they were going to do something to you, so I went to the lake as fast as I could. They had you cornered neared the end of the dock but you didn’t think anything bad was happening. I tried to get you out of there but you were confused and wanted to stay. The team repeated what you said and shoved me back, and that was when you told them that they should stop. They started pushing you back to the edge of the dock and I tried to save you but… They pushed me to the ground and you into the lake. You broke the ice and fell into the water but you couldn’t climb out and you froze, then drowned.”

Alex’s eyes glazed over and he stared up at Jeremy. Jeremy’s eyes were wide with tears. “It was my fault I’m dead. Babe, it wasn’t you, it was me! If I wasn’t so stupid-!” It was Jeremy’s turn to cry now, he could remember all of it. He could remember Alex’s sweet kisses and when he would paint him into a masterpiece. He remembered his dreams of being an astrologist. He remembered how they would cry after any fight. How happy Alex looked when confused neighbors found that what hit their windows was a ball that looked like an egg. How the ice knocked the wind out of him. The screams of his beloved as his head went under the water one last time. How his lungs froze when all he wanted was to breath.

He started to curl up and Alex sat up to guide him down to the bed. Jeremy buried his face into Alex’s chest as Alex rubbed his back. They mumbled to each other for the rest of the night like ‘I miss you so much’ and ‘I wish I could touch you outside of here’ until Alex woke up.

#boyfriends #shortstories #fanfiction? #ghosts #gay boys #these are my children why did I hurt them in this way #original character

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey! Er... I was wondering if you could like... recommend me some married!johnlock fic. Also, this is an extra... But I want to say that I really like your blog, and it's one of my favorites (sorry if I wrote something incorrectly, English is not my mother language... Also I'm a little nervous sending this...)

Hi Lovely!

Firstly, don’t apologize for the language barrier! Your English is lovely! Thank you so much for your kind words about my blog!

Next, I’ve made a couple lists before relating to this exact thing:

Marriage and Weddings

Proposals

As for actual fics where they’re actually married? Well, I initially thought I had none until I did this list, LOL!! I’ll also give you some of my “Established Relationship” fics too, just to fill up space! :D

WEDDINGS / PROPOSALS, HUSBANDS, & ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIPS

A Discourse on the Inadequacy of a Duvet by guns_and_poses (T, 1,005 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Humour, Bed Sharing, Romance) – Sherlock keeps stealing the covers when they share a bed because he wants John to move closer to him when they are sleeping but of course doesn’t want to ask. John gets annoyed at first until he realises what Sherlock wants and is more than happy to oblige.

This Isn’t About the Bathtub by cypress_tree (G, 1,142 || Marriage Proposal) – John and Sherlock go to Angelo’s for dinner. In both of their pockets are rings they are going to propose with, but the other has no idea. John proposes first, and Sherlock answers by pulling out his engagement ring.

Bringing Colour to the World by SD_Ryan (G, 1,168w. || Est. Relationship, Sickfic, Fluff, Schmoop) – In which we encounter a sick detective, a snuggle on the couch, and a silly fairytale.

Under The Covers by berlynn_wohl (E, 1,221 w. || Est. Rel., Shy Sherlock, Anal, Fluff) – John would have liked to have the lights on and seen everything, but Sherlock was shy, so they did it this way, always.

John Was Nice Like That by hannah_baker (T, 1,307 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Body Worship, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes may not ever sleep, but that hasn’t prevented him from having a kip on the couch with John.

here’s to love (here’s to us) by trustingno1 (G, 1,309 w. || Weddings, Fluff, Best Man Speech) – “I suggested that he ask Greg,” John says, “to which he replied, ‘Who?’,” and Greg pushes back from the table, exasperated. “I then made the mistake of suggesting his brother, to which Sherlock enumerated twenty-three reasons that that was a terrible idea.” (John’s best man speech at Sherlock’s wedding).

So, this is normal for us now? by TooManyChoices (M, 1,445w. || Bed Sharing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Est. Rel., Cuddles) – John and Sherlock have been sharing a flat, and a life for some time. This is a story of how the glacially slow movement of their relationship makes another agonising crawl forward another inch.

To Sleep, Perchance to…Cuddle by nerdyandiknowit (NR, 1,563 w. || Sleepy Cuddles, Fluff, Stubborn Sherlock, Bedsharing, Cuddles & Snuggles) – Almost immediately after they got together Sherlock formed this dependency on John-he could not (or would not as John believes) sleep without John being there, in bed, next to him.

A Metaphorical Gesture by cyparissus (T, 1,578 w. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff) – “Sherlock, are you–” the words die in John’s throat and he has to swallow and start again, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

and yes I said yes I will Yes by Mithen (T, 1,662 w. || Fluff, Humour, Est. Rel. Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock has deduced that John is going to propose to him, and he’s ready to accept. If only John would actually get around to it…

Biggest and Best by Sexxica (E, 1,815 w. || Est. Rel., Dildos, Sherlock’s Size Kink, John’s Giant Junk) – John Watson has a huge cock. Sherlock wants it inside him. Part 2 of Tumblr Ficlets Gone Wild

The Marriage Proposal Negotiation by Goddess_of_the_Night (G, 2,161 w. || Dev. Rel., Possessive Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Post Mary) – Sherlock hasn’t ever really done anything the traditional way, so of course it wouldn’t bother him to propose to John even though they’re not even dating. And the fact that John is already on a date with someone else when he decides to do it? Tedious.

You Know, The Old Saying by songlin (T, 2,248 w. || Wedding, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Engagement) – “Marry me. I need to have you forever.” Unrepentant husbands!Johnlock fluff.

In Which John is Attractive and Sherlock is Angry by kim47 (T, 2,382 w. || Fluff, Est. Rel., Jealous Sherlock) – Sherlock’s reaction to finding out that everyone wants HIS John, and how he told them to piss off and get their own Watson.

Unwanted by 221b_hound (T, 2,436 w. || Est. Rel., Wedding Rings, Asshole Exes) – In the jewellers to collect their wedding rings ahead of the Big Day, an old friend of John’s spots him. Well. I say ‘friend’.Sherlock isn’t jealous. He’s possibly a little bit grateful. That doesn’t mean Lydia Templeton isn’t an idiot. Part 19 of Unkissed

Let the Sun Fade Out by nothingislittle (E, 2,711 w. || Fluff & Smut, Praise Kink, PWP, Obsessed Sherlock, Bottomlock, Heart-Tearing Love) – “He could warm the sun itself, Sherlock thinks, could heat their flat with just his presence, could brighten the room with one dazzling smile or just the sparkling in his eyes. John is everything, he’s beautiful and he shines, he’s everything.”

Extraordinary by queenoftrivia (G, 2,860 w. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Morse Code, Est. Rel, Violins) – Sherlock’s deduced that John’s going to Italy to buy him a violin. Even the greatest detective alive makes a few mistakes.

Engaged by lifeonmars (NR, 3,146 w. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Holmes Family, Song Fic) – Sherlock did not believe in marriage, but he wanted to be married. He found this something of a surprise. Part 2 of Damage

And as the seasons change, I love you more by Teatrolley (NR, 3,219 w. || Fluff and Angst, Est. Rel., Marriage / Proposal) – A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially.

Unmissed by 221b_hound (M, 3,235 w. || Est. Rel., Pet Names, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – John enjoys a good brawl during a case, and Sherlock begins to worry - when they retire, will John get bored? Will John get bored and leave. But even if John isn't a genius about cases, he knows a thing or two about Sherlock's panic attacks about them as a couple. With only four days till the wedding, he's not about to let Sherlock continue with this misplaced notion that John will be bored in retirement. Part 20 of Unkissed

Straight Shooter by nefariosity (E, 3,249 w. || Est. Rel., Light Dom/Sub, Military Kink, PWP) – Sherlock has a military kink. John indulges him.

Bagged & Tagged by Regency (T, 3,339 w. || Drunken Confessions, Fluff and Crack, Marriage Proposal) – A very inebriated John devises a clever means of proposing marriage to Sherlock. Unfortunately he’s forgotten all about it by the next morning.

In Nomine by Atiki (E, 3,517 w. || Est. Rel., PWP, Anal, Domesticity, Love Confessions, Sherlock Loves John, Overwhelmed Sherlock) – “Alright?” John asks gently, planting a kiss on Sherlock’s left collar bone, smoothing a hand down his chest and belly until it rests in the soft trail of hair below his belly button. John’s smile is all soft and warm. His hand feels tender and solid and real. A soldier’s hand. A surgeon’s hand. A lover’s hand. Oh. “John”, Sherlock gasps. And that’s where it begins. Written for a prompt on the Kink Meme: The only word Sherlock says during sex is “John”.

Rumpled by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,601 w. || Est. Rel., Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, PWP, Proposal, Bottomlock) – Then, halfway through a documentary on river otters that neither of them was paying attention to–how could John, with a gangly, limp consulting detective practically purring in his lap?–Sherlock suddenly bolted upright, looked at John with a perplexed expression and a crinkle above his nose, and blurted, “Marry me.” Part 4 of Longitudinal Cohort

Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3,772 w. || Est. Rel., Vulnerable Sherlock, Wedding Anniversary, Anal, Texting, Lingerie) – John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Equine Arse Anonymity by Kayjaykayme (E,  3,834 w. || Est. Rel., Public Sex, Coming in Pants, Humour, Halloween, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock needs to speak with suspects at a fancy dress ball. He chooses a couple’s costume for himself and John. It is logical, practical and well thought out. John doesn’t agree and exacts sweet revenge.

Love and Hair Dye by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,920 w. || Est. Rel., Body Worship, Self Conscious John, Voyeurism, Idiots in Love, Smutty Smut) – Self conscious John decides to cover the greys on his head, and the colour isn’t what he thought it would be. Now he’s more self-conscious than ever.

Let me be the wallpaper that papers up your room by Teatrolley (NR, 3,966 w. || Est. Rel., Two Idiots in Love, Fluff, Domestics) – Four seasons in the life of Sherlock and John, really.

subterfuge isn’t subterfuge if you don’t know what the hell you’re doing by scullyseviltwin (T, 4,157 w. || Est. Rel., Fluff, Anniversary) – The entire idea was ludicrous, and terrified John a whole hell of a lot.

Fine Print by mistyzeo (E, 4,224 w. || ACD Holmes || Est. Rel, Retirementlock, Glasses, Oral, Hand Jobs, Bees) – Holmes needs glasses, but he’s too much of a stubborn arse to go get his eyes checked. Watson is used to bullying him for his own good. The glasses have unexpected but not unwelcome consequences for everyone.

Keep Each Other Company by orithea (E, 4,600 w. || Est. Rel., Threesome, Self-cest, Time Traveller Sherlock) – One Sherlock is demanding enough. Two of them are impossible to resist. Part 3 of The Time Traveller’s Flatmate

Unforgiven by 221b_hound (M, 4,721 w. || Marriage Proposal, Victor Trevor, Jealous / Protective John, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past) – Sherlock’s latest case is for his ex boyfriend, the brilliant and handsome Professor Victor Trevor. John is not too happy about that. But things aren’t what they seem, an old friend of John’s is involved in the case, and John has a few surprises up his sleeve. Also - a proposal! Part 16 of Unkissed

What Happens in Vegas (is legally binding in the United Kingdom) by  moonblossom (E, 5,051 w. || Accidental Marriage, Friends to Husbands to Lovers, CSI Crossover, Fluff & Porn, Bathtub Sex, Hand Jobs, First Time) – When a case sends the boys to Vegas, John comes out of it with a bit more than he bargained for. Part 19 of Prompt Fills, Remixes, Works inspired by others

Midnight Plowboy by weeesi (E, 5,399 w. || Est. Rel., Fake Vintage Gay Erotica, Anal, PWP, Roleplay) – “Does it feel like I’m sure?” John whispers into Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock swallows again.

All the Flavours, Cherry and More by cwb (E, 6,274 w. || Est. Rel., Lip Gloss, Lingerie, Birthday Presents, Insecure Sherlock) – Sherlock feels a blush rising to touch his cheeks, more sensual than uncomfortable now that he knows John isn’t disgusted by him. No, John is responding exactly the way he had hoped.

Abatement by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 6,816 w. || Est. Rel., Retirementlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Self Esteem, Grumpy Sherlock) – “What’s wrong with you? You love the cottage,” John glances over to the passenger seat, then quickly turns his eyes back to the road. Driving was still not his forte, but considering Sherlock still couldn’t properly bend and lift his new knee enough to press and release the clutch, he had to make do. Not that Sherlock hadn’t tried to argue his way into the driver’s seat. “I love the cottage for a week or two, John. Don’t be deliberately obstuse,” Sherlock grumbles, sinking further in his seat. Well, as best he can with a four-week-old knee replacement. “And that’s all we’re going for, love,” John says out loud. But what he’s thinking is, shit. He knows.

Caught In The Act by ShirleyCarlton (E, 7,009 w. across 6 stories || Est. Rel, Voyeurism, Character POV’s, Mastrubation, Switchlock) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

Beg for Mercy (Twice) by Solitary_Endeavor (E, 7,060 w. || Est. Rel., Bottomlock, Bearded John, Edging, Rough Sex, Idiots in Love, Canon Compliant) – Sherlock hasn’t left the flat in four days, the itch of impatience beneath his skin too great to allow him to suffer interaction with any human being who isn’t John. This is probably a mercy that goes both ways, as he’s driving even himself mad. Sherlock supposes there is a lesson to be learned here about having himself to blame, but of course he blames Mycroft.

Christmas by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 7,673  w. || Worried Sherlock, PWP, Drunkeness, Christmas, Est. Relationship) – John feels a lump rise in his throat, and it hits him, again, that this beautiful, infuriating creature is his. Completely, one-hundred percent his.

With This Ring by Quesarasara (E, 9,121 w. || Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Embarrassing Hospital Visits) – Sometimes even the best of plans go wrong. And sometimes wrong turns out to be exactly right.

the first day of forever by darcylindbergh (E, 11,850 w. || Est. Relationship, Domestics, Light Angst, Insecurity, Emotional H/C) – “I’m going to marry you,” John murmurs with against Sherlock’s smile, and they both giggle in the joy of it. “We’re getting married.”“Yes,” Sherlock says, just to hear himself say it out loud. “We are.” A June wedding. Part 4 of things fairy tales are made of

And if you say the word, I could stay with you by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,842 w. || Domestic Fluff, BottomJohn / Topping from the Bottom, Fluff and Romance, Dirty Talk, Proposals) – What Sherlock thinks is, On the day I die, be it in a dirty alley at forty or in my bed at eighty, the last thing I will remember is tonight, the way you looked at at me on the snowy pavement, cheeks pink with the cold, breath puffing in frosty white clouds, your heart in your eyes and snowflakes in your hair. I will remember that single perfect moment in my life, that moment I knew I had everything I ever wanted, and whatever happens next, I will die content. What he says is simply, “Marry me.”

Your Eyes in Darkness Glowing by tamed_untranslatable (E, 14,686 w. || Est. Rel., Case Fic, Hotel Sex, Bottomlock, Anal, BJ’s, Porn With Feelings, Homophobia) – Sherlock gets roped into a case in Moscow on his brother’s insistence, but finds that he can’t do it without John.

Never-Ending Cycle by orphan_account (T, 17,211 w. || Christmas, Est. Rel., Proposal, Fluff) – Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he’s a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

About Sleep and Coffee and the Existence of Fate by Atiki (E, 17,426 w. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Humour, 5+1) – Naturally, John was startled when suddenly the ultimate solution occurred to him: Marriage. This was, of course, a bit of a fundamental problem rather than an actual solution. One didn’t simply use the words “Sherlock” and “marriage” within the same sentence. Not even in a hypothetical context. Five times John kind of wanted to propose to Sherlock, and one time he didn’t have to.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (E, 22,375 w. || Fluff, Romance, Marriage Proposal) – Proposing shouldn’t be this difficult.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Resistivity and Relative Charge by liriodendron (E, 41,750 w. || Synesthesia, Angst, Case Fic, Romance, Est. Rel., Homophobia, Religious Content, Victor Trevor, Mild Jealous John, Mild John Whump) – In which Sherlock Holmes meets an old acquaintance, John Watson doesn’t enjoy a trip to the country quite as much as he thought he would, and the past absolutely refuses to stay where it belongs. Part 3 of Conductivity

Bedroom Tales by Junejuly15 (M, 49,950 w. || Friends to Lovers, Through the Years, H/C, Military Kink, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Insecure Sherlock, Voyeurism, Post-TRF, Ficlets, Fluff and Angst, Fix-It Fics) – Bedroom Tales is a collection of John and Sherlock ficlets. They are set at various stages of their relationship and are in no particular order. Some are fluffy, some sexy, some angsty, there is hurt and comfort, romance and love. What unites them is that they all play in a bedroom, but not necessarily the one in 221B.

A Love with No Name Series by aceofhearts61 (G to M, 49,955 w. across 20 stories || Asexual Sherlock / Straight John, Est. Rel., Queerplatonic Relationship, Romance, Cuddling, Fluff, Platonic Romance, Domestics) – In which Asexual!Sherlock and Straight!John are platonically in love life partners.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Perdition’s Flames by i_ship_an_armada (E, 63,435 w., || Treklock AU, Est. Rel, Genetic Engineering, Angst & Fluff, BAMF!John) – Sherlock would do anything to save him. Risk anything. Give anything. His money, his life. His soul. What he does, though, is change both of their destinies forever. Genetic re-engineering is the only option left. It turns out researchers underestimated the life expectancy and potential abilities of genetically re-engineered subjects. The British government and what would eventually become the United Federation of Planets, however, had not. Part 1 of PF Universe

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w. || Established, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 152,869 w. || Omegaverse / Prime Universe Crossover || OmegaJohn / AlphaSherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Angst, H/C, Dub Con, Humour) – Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship. Prime Sherlock and Prime John are not. So what happens when a freak fold in the universe switches one John for the other?

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

#steph replies #my fic recs #johnlock fic recs #established relationship #sarah-the-phantom

[lokis-daughter-fic]

Loki’s Daughter Chapter 8: Side Effects Include

Loki was beginning to grow bored of sitting in their room. He flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. When he found he could not sit still, he stood and paced back and forth for a while. He walked to the window and looked outside. Loki watched the people bustling about outside. He did not like being stuck in one place. They had been alone here for hours and no one had come to get them. Kuna was sitting on a pillow in the den area, playing pretend with her toys.

           “Kuna?” he asked, turning back to her. “Do you want to go out?”

           “Where?” she asked, looking up at him.

           “Anywhere, really.”

           “But what about Queen Shakk’uri?”

           “She’s taking her time with this ‘urgent’ matter,” Loki said, impatiently. “Are you hungry?”

Kuna looked down at her tummy. She was very hungry. It had been several hours since they had returned and they had polished off the food in the room for lunch. She looked back up at Loki and nodded.

“Then, let’s go out somewhere. She’s taking too long and you’re a growing little girl that needs to eat. We’ll just join her later and apologize if we’re late for something.”

           Kuna stood up, holding her stuffed animals under each arm. She shrugged, “Okay, then.” She followed Loki out of the room. He found one of Shakk'uri's little butler men and told him they were going out.

“Oh, but wait, sir, Mother Shakk’uri would rather you wait here,” the little man said, stepping in front of them. Kuna shrank a little, grabbing Loki’s hand. She didn’t like how tall the man was, even though he was much smaller than Shakk’uri, he was still much bigger than little Kuna.

“Oh, but we would really rather go out and enjoy your beautiful planet,” Loki said, stepping around him. “Expect us back later.”

           Loki walked past him, pulling Kuna gently along beside him. They walked out of the hive and back onto the street. Loki pulled up his hood and cowl.

           “Loki?” Kuna asked.

           “Mmm?”

           “Why did you call yourself Lopt?”

           “Oh, I’m just trying to keep my real identity secret. It’s just a name.”

           “But why?”

           “Well, there’s some dangerous people out there that would really like me dead.”

           “Dead? Why?” she asked, shocked that anyone would ever want Loki dead.

           “Some people don’t like me very much,” he responded, leading her through the crowds.

           “Well, I like you,” she said.

           He stopped and looked down at her. “Really?”

           “Yes, you’re the nicest person in the whole universe.”

           He chuckled a little. “If only you knew,” he said.

           Loki found a tavern on a street corner and walked Kuna inside. They found a table and he ordered a drink for himself – of the alcoholic variety – and a water for Kuna – of the non-alcoholic variety. Kuna crawled up on the seat next to Loki, but she couldn’t reach the table very well. Tenanciians were very tall and built their furniture to match.

           Loki picked her up and set her on his lap. A waiter delivered their drinks and Loki paid him. At the table beside them, two feathered female Shi’ar sat whispering to each other. They caught Loki’s glance and he winked at them which sent them into a giggling tizzy. Suddenly, he heard Kuna’s stomach growl from below him. It was louder than all the noise in the bar.

           “Was that your stomach?” he asked her, laughing in disbelief.

           She looked up and nodded, holding her tummy. Loki remembered the protein bars he had purchased for her earlier that day. He pulled the box from his pocket and opened it, pulling out a bar.

He opened the protein bar. It looked similar to Midgardian candy, separated into ten equal squares in neat pairs. He broke off a piece, popping it into his mouth. The outside melted in his mouth. It was smooth and creamy, sweet like chocolate with a chalky thickness. He assumed that was the protein part. He sucked on the tablet. Inside this creamy layer, there was a crunchy inside like a hard candy. It too tasted sweet but much crisper and tangy. He moved it around on his tongue.

On his lap, Kuna was playing with her new toy dragon. She moved it up and down in the air so that its wings would flap like it was flying. She was entranced by her gifts.

"Here," he said, pushing the candy to the side of his mouth. "Want some? It's like candy but it's really good for you." He offered the whole bar to Kuna. "Just don't swallow the whole thing right away. I think you're meant to suck on it for a while."

She happily took it, amazed at all the gifts and treats she was getting today. She bit off a whole row of the candy bar and was overwhelmed by the sweet flavor. She’d never tasted anything so sweet. She had never had candy before but she had seen some of the Masters children have it and they seemed to love it. Now she knew why.

Loki took out another bar from the box and turned it over to read the description on the back, still sucking on the inside of his piece. Beside them, the Shi’ar woman whispered to her friend, pointing her gaze towards Kuna eating the protein bar. Loki dismissed them. So what? He's got a kid with him in a bar. It's not like she's drinking. He made sure her water had no alcohol this time. They had learned the hard way about that.

He turned his attention back to the protein bar packet. Kuna continued sucking on the two candies in her mouth. Loki read through the nutritional information:

                'Protein, vitamins, and nutrients contained within each tablet:'

Loki skimmed over the list of included nutrients, making note that just about everything was covered in it. His eyes landed on a section heading:

                'Suggested intake:

                One (1) tablet contains sufficient daily caloric, protein, vitamin, and nutrient intake for carbon-based lifeforms of an average weight of greater than 500kg and an average height of greater than 400cm'

Loki choked on his piece and snatched the rest of the bar out of Kuna's hand. She had eaten four whole tablets. The two Shi’ar women at the table beside them started laughing at Loki’s reaction. His face reddened as he read on:

                'Tablets per bar: 10

                Intended for the maintenance and/or gain of weight and muscle in extra-large carbon-based lifeforms where sufficient daily nutrients are difficult to acquire.

                Consult with your physician/healer/shaman/witch doctor before starting a weight gain regimen.’

"Oh, gods," he said, covering his mouth. "What have I done?" He looked down at Kuna then back to the packet. Kuna looked up at him, confused and scared by him snatching away the candy he had given her.

“Did I do something wrong again?” she asked, cautiously.

"Oh, no. Sorry, Kuna," he said. "You haven’t done anything wrong. At all. You just can't have very many of these, I guess. In fact, I think you can only have one, like, once a year."

She frowned in discontent. She had liked the taste of the candy. She quickly swallowed the rest of the two tablets in her mouth.

"Five hundred kilos? What in the worlds?" he read again. There was no mistake. "How many are in here?"

He looked in the box. There were at least thirty bars inside. A sinking feeling came over him as he remembered how big the store owner was and the strange look he had given Loki when he purchased the bars. The strange look Loki had chalked up to him paying the giant store owner too much for the protein bars.

"Ooh," Loki realized. He put his face in his palm. Why couldn’t he do anything right?

Kuna was still confused by the situation. She looked up at Loki, expecting him to be angry with her for eating too much of the candy bar. He looked down at her and saw the fear in her eyes. His expression softened and he smiled at her.

"How many kilos do you weigh?" he asked her, grinning. She gave him a nervous smile but didn’t know the answer he wanted. He picked up her up, seriously weighing her in his hands for a moment, and hoisted her up. She giggled as he bounced her in midair. "Do you weigh 500 kilos?" he asked, laughing with her. “Actually, you're lucky if you weigh ten kilos soaking wet,” he muttered under his breath.

He set her back down between his knees and picked up the packet again, worriedly. He wondered if she would get sick again. Gods, he couldn't do anything right with her. He continued reading:

          ‘Possible side effects include:’

“Oh gods. Please, no,” he pleaded with the candy bar.

           ‘Itching, rash, vomiting, indigestion, hair loss, increased hair growth, constipation, diarrhea, headaches, chills, drowsiness,

            insomnia, hypersomnia, impotence, increased libido, shortened attention span, forgetfulness, swollen tongue,

            sudden outbursts of crying, singing, cursing, and/or shouting, hallucinations, euphoria, drunkenness, lewd behavior,

            sudden depression, sudden muscle spasms, unconsciousness, coma, and, in some cases, death.’

Loki’s jaw hit the table. This had to be a joke. “Do you get these side effects all at once?” he cried, rather more loudly than he had intended. He covered his mouth with his hand as people began to stare at them. “If my hair falls out, I’m going to stab someone,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the wrapper. “I thought there were just vitamins in this thing.”

            ‘Warning: This product has not been tested for beings smaller than 400cm weighing less than 500 kg and is not recommended by the Nova Corps of Surgeons for weight maintenance or gain of any carbon-based lifeform regardless of species, race, age, weight, or stature. Results may vary.’

“Oh, now you tell me. Why did that bastard even sell this to me at all? How is this shit even legal? Why is that not in BOLD LETTERS ON THE FRONT OF THE FUCKING WRAPPER!” he shouted. The tavern quieted as people turned their heads to look at Loki shouting at nothing.

Kuna did not like hearing him shout so angrily. She flinched at the volume of his voice. He saw her flinch and felt a sudden wave of guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Kuna,” he said, his eyes suddenly filling with tears. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not mad at you, I swear.”

Kuna timidly looked around. The other people were still staring. Loki wiped his eyes, furious that he was crying in public over absolutely nothing.

           Loki scanned the room. Everyone had gone back to their business now. He called a waiter over and ordered them some real food. The Shi’ar women were still giggling to themselves and glancing in Loki’s and Kuna’s direction every now and then.

"Kee-lohs. Keee-loooh," Kuna absentmindedly mimicked Loki from below, pulling his attention back to her. She had gone back to playing with her dragon and sleipnir on the table. "Kee-loh, Loh-kee, Loki!" she said, looking up at him, grinning with joy.

He smiled back at her. That was cute. He took a drink from his mug on the table, content with the way he had calmed her down in this tense situation. He didn’t want her to be so scared of him all the time. She was certainly beginning to trust him.

“Shit,” Kuna mimicked, as she went back to playing.

Loki’s eyes widened and he looked down. “Um,” he chuckled a little as he spoke. “You probably shouldn’t say that, Kuna.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t really care that much but some people might think it’s rude.”

“But you say it.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Oh,” she said, looking down. “Okay, then.”

“Um, anyways. How are you feeling? Are you feeling, maybe, sick, at all?”

“No.”

“Tongue swollen?”

“Mmm... no,” she said, touching her tongue to the roof of her mouth to see.

“Any sudden urge to start singing?”

She looked up at Loki, brow raised. He was acting weird. “No...?” she said, a bit more like a question than an answer.

“Good. And we’re not dead, so no side effects yet, then.”

“Yay!” Kuna said, holding her toys in the air. In truth, Loki was acting so strangely, she wasn’t really sure what to say to him or what he was going on about. She was just happy to be not dead with Loki.

Loki couldn’t help but smile at her. Despite everything that had happened to them in the last two days, she was, for the most part, happy.

Gods, you're so soft, the voice said, spooking Loki.

Loki nearly spit out his drink. HOw did he get out? He choked on the drink and swallowed hard, mentally trying to shove him out of his mind.

Can't get rid of me that easily, he taunted back, filling Loki's head with a menacing cackling that echoed in his ears.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut until the laughter died down. He opened them slowly. It felt quiet now. He looked around. The tavern was still buzzing with energy but Loki’s ears felt muffled, his vision blurred at the edges.

Kuna felt Loki’s sudden shift in mood and looked up at him but his eyes focused on someone at the bar. He could only see the back of his head. Long, black hair, green cape, black armor. Loki’s heart started to pound. He had not conjured a copy, so who was this?

The man turned and Loki was face to face with himself. He stood and walked towards their table. Loki jumped to his feet and Kuna nearly fell across the table. Catching herself before she could fall, she looked up at Loki.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. Kuna looked around for the person he was speaking to but no one seemed to be holding the conversation.

“Get the Hel away from us,” Loki growled. “Don’t you dare.”

“Loki?” Kuna asked.

“Who are you? How are you doing this?” Loki continued. He paused between speaking as if listening to a response. Kuna looked around again to find the person Loki was talking to but there were no one around and no responses to his questions.

“Get out,” Loki growled through clenched teeth. There were tears in his eyes. “I SAID GET OUT!” Loki shouted, pointing at the door. The room fell silent again. Everyone was staring.

“Loki, there’s no one there!” Kuna cried.

Loki was broken from his fixation on the taunting copy. He was practically nose to nose with it, how could she not see? This was some magic or trick… or hallucination.

He grabbed the wrapper again. ‘Hallucinations’ it had listed as a side effect. He looked up again at the sneering image of himself but it was gone. He looked around at the room. Everyone was staring, whispering amongst themselves. The barkeep began to approach them.

“Kuna, we need to go,” he said, picking her up. She quickly grabbed her toys from the table and the satchel Loki was about to leave on the bench. He whisked her out of the tavern.

“Who were you talking to?” Kuna asked.

“No one.”

“It sounded like you were talking to someone.”

“It was no one. I’m – I’m – Why aren’t you having any of these side effects?”

Kuna shook her head. She didn’t know what he was talking about. She felt fine. Loki put her on the ground and she took his hand, walking alongside him. She put the satchel over her shoulder and stuffed her toys inside.

She had not been much paying attention when they walked to the tavern but she did not feel like Loki was walking the right way back to the hive. It felt like they were walking in circles. In fact, she thought that was the third time they had passed the tavern doors. She looked back at Loki but he had started humming and then broke into song:

“Drøymde mik ein draum i nótt

um silki ok ærlig pell,

um hægindi svá djupt ok mjott,

um rosemd með engan skell.

Ok i drauminom ek leit

sem gegnom ein groman glugg

þá helo feigo mennsko sveit,

hver sjon ol sin eiginn ugg.

Hmm, hmm, hmm, I don’t know these words as well, hmm, hmm, hmm, Oh yeah!

Ek fekk sofa lika vel,

ek truða þat væri best —

at hvila mik á goðu þel´

ok gløyma svá folki flest´.

Friðinn, ef hann finzt, er hvar

ein firrest þann mennska skell,

fær veggja sik um, drøma þar

um silki ok ærlig pell.”

He chuckled at the last part. Kuna was concerned. She hadn’t gotten a word of what he was singing. Was that another language? Had he just made that up? Maybe his magic Allspeak wasn’t working anymore. What was happening?

“Um… Loki?” She asked, softly, tugging on his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, I’ve never been better! Are you okay?”

“I think so?”

“You think? You should know!” he grabbed her under her arms and swung her around and then put her up on his shoulders. “I haven’t felt this great in centuries!”

“Are you drunk?” Kuna asked, leaning over his face.

“Possibly?” he said, shaking his head a little. “Are you having fun?”

“What were singing?”

“Hmm? What? Was I singing?”

“Yeah! What was it? It was pretty?”

“Hmm… Oh, it’s an old tune Bragi sang once. About how awful humans are and it’s just better to be away from them and just take a nap instead! Haha, he sang it for the Midgardians once and they loved it so much they wrote it down! Can you believe that?”

“You’re acting weird.”

“Is it a good weird or a bad weird.”

“Mmm… good weird?”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m not.”

“Dat is noth otay,” Loki said. His eyes widened. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. He quickened his pace. “Whath were we dalking abouth? Where am I gohing?” He stopped in the middle of the street. “Where-were-we gohing?”

“Um, I think we need to go back to Shakk’uri,” Kuna said, a little unsure of herself. Something was wrong with Loki for sure.

“Righth,” he said. “Goood ithea.”

           “I think we need to go that way,” Kuna pointed towards the dome of the hive sticking up above the buildings.

           “Righth,” he said.

           “I think that’s left?” she said, holding out her hands to be sure she knew.

           “Righth. Lepffft.”

           They had nearly arrived at the hive when Loki suddenly stopped again. He grabbed Kuna and put her down, running for the bushes lining the stairs. He vomited over the railing and hung there for a moment, spitting. Kuna grimaced. He was sick. Maybe he had too much candy?

           He retched again before straightening up. He put his hand to his head and swayed. She walked over to him and took his hand, steadying him a little. He leaned over.

           “Did you drink the water from the alcohol planet?”

           “Sssthort of,” he said, hiccupping.

           “I think it made you sick and that candy too,”

           “I phthink your righth,” he said, woozily.

           She led him up the steps slowly. It would not have been the first time she escorted a drunk man home. Master Machaluci was drunk all the time and always made her take him home. He liked to beat her on the head with his stick as they walked to make the townspeople laugh. At least Loki didn’t have a stick.

           He toddled along behind her, still holding her hand. His head was pounding. He scratched a niggling itch on his neck. It would not go away. He scratched harder and harder until his nails left marks but it was as if the itch was beneath his skin. Then, he felt another urge.

           “Hold on, Kuna,” he said. He ran to the bushes once more. “Turn around,” he ordered her. She did. She heard him unzip and relieve himself, though, it sounded like he was missing the bush and hitting the pavement instead. When he was done he returned to her. Kuna did not take his hand this time.

           They continued up the steps until they reached the door. Kuna pushed it open then heard a horrendous sound come from Loki’s stomach.

           “Oh dear,” he said and bolted through the door and down the hallway, nearly pushing over one of the small men.

           “Is he alright?” the man asked Kuna.

           “Umm… I – I think he had too much to drink and eat tonight.”

           “Well, that’s a shame. Mother Shakk’uri is expecting you both for dinner.”

           “Umm, both of us?”

           “Yes, my lady.” He bowed a little.

           “I’m not a lady. I’m just – just me.”

           “Well ‘just me’, I will tell Mother Shakk’uri that Lopt is indisposed. She will still want to see you at dinner, though. I will fetch you when it is time.”

           “Oh, um, okay,” Kuna said.

           He scuttled off before Kuna could say anything else. She ran down the hallway towards their room. There had been so many ups and downs and twists and turns when they had been led there before, she wasn’t sure if she could find it again. After a few minutes of being lost, she heard Loki sobbing from a room nearby.

She ran towards it and found their room and Loki laying face down in the bed with no clothes on. She quickly covered her face.

“Um, Loki?”

“Mmm fmmm hmm mmm,” he said, muffled by the pillow he had his face smashed in.

“You don’t have any clothes on,” Kuna said, shyly, still covering her eyes.

She heard the bed squeak and then Loki’s bare feet padding across the floor. The bathroom door shut behind him. He was puking again.

“Loki, should I get a healer, maybe?”

“Ask for… Tena’gli!” he shouted.

“Okay!” Kuna did not like him shouting. She ran out the door and found the first man she could.

“Yes, little lady. Can I help you?”

“We – We need Tena’gli! Loki’s sick!”

“Who?”

“Tena’gli! Is she a healer?”

“Oh, oh, yes. I’ll go get her.”

Kuna ran back to the room and stopped dead in her tracks. Had she said ‘Loki’ instead of ‘Lopt’? They were so similar and she was not paying attention. Would Loki be mad? Should she tell him? What if he hit her? Or worse, what if he left her behind or sold her?

“Kuna? Isth sthhe coming?”

“Y – Yes,” she said, sheepishly.

“Remind me to stab that merchant who sold us those candybars, tomorrow!”

“L – Loki?” she approached the door of the bathroom. Loki had a towel wrapped around his waist now. He was sitting in front of the toilet. His face was pale, he looked exhausted. He turned to her, tears in his eyes.

“I’m stho sthorry, Kuna,” he wailed. “You shthouldn’t hafve to sthee this!”

“Loki, I think I made a mistake.”

“Whath?”

“I – I went to find someone to get – to get Tena’gli. And – and when I found one of those men, I – I – I don’t know what I was thinking. I – I called you Loki instead of Lopt. I’m sorry, Loki! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I – I was just worried about you! I am worried about you!”

Loki stopped crying and stared at Kuna for a moment. She was sobbing and covering her face. Her whole body trembled with fear. Loki sighed.

“Ith’s noth you pffault,” he said, tongue still thick in his mouth. “I blew my own covffer in the tavffern. Asth sthoon asth we geth those Shapfucks, hehe,” he giggled at himself. “Those Shapf’aks, we’ll leafve thisth planeth behindth.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Madth? Plobably. Angrly? No.” He shook his head. “Tell me, am I going baldth?” He looked down so Kuna could see the top of his head.

She sniffled and looked through her tears. “No,” she said. His hair was still fine. He sighed.

“Goodth,” he said. “Whath’s taking that woman stho long?”

Suddenly, a female Tenanciian appeared in the doorway. Kuna moved so she could get by.

“Oh dear, what’s going on here?” she said, shocked by the nearly naked Loki.

He produced the wrapper of the candybar and waved it in her face.

“Good Mother,” she said. “Didn’t you read the wrapper? Come on,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “Kuna, my dear. You should probably stay here while I treat him. Mother Shakk’uri will be here soon.”

“No!” Kuna shouted. She immediately shied away at her outburst. She had never spoken back to an adult that way. “I – I want to go with him.”

“Very well,” Tena’gli said.

Kuna followed them out and back through the ups and downs and twists and turns of the hive. They arrived on the ground floor. Shakk’uri was waiting.

“Oh my!” she said at the sight of the nearly naked Loki. “Kuna, darling, come here. Let Tena’gli do her work.”

“I – I want to stay with him,” Kuna said. The room fell silent.

“Kuna, please, come with me,” Shakk’uri said, opening her arms to her.

Kuna shook her head. She had a bad feeling from head to toe. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, men with big guns approached from all angles. They wore blue armor with golden ‘V’s on their chestplates. One grabbed her and pulled her away from Loki.

“Sthop!” Loki shouted. “Don’th thouch her!”

Kuna screamed as they wrangled her and practically threw her at Shakk’uri. She caught her and held her back as she struggled.

“No! No!”

“Kuna, stop! Listen to me! Do you know who this man is? What he’s done? He’s a murderer!”

“No, he’s not!” Kuna cried, fighting to get away from her.

“He tried to destroy a whole planet and then tried to take over another one! He’s in league with the Titan, Thanos! He’s dangerous! He’s a trickster! He’s just using you!”

“No! He’s nice! You don’t know him!”

The men surrounded Loki, pointing their guns at him. He put up his hands.

“You’re not really going to shoot me in front of the girl, are you?” He seemed suddenly better.

“See!” Shakk’uri said, roughly holding onto Kuna. “He was tricking you the whole time!”

“Shut your whore mouth!” Loki shouted at her. There were gasps from around the room. “What would you know?”

“That’s enough,” one of the men said. “Loki Odinson, you are under arrest for the destruction of Jotunheim and the merciless attack of the uncontacted, Terra—"

“What the Hel did you call me? What they couldn’t even summon Syfon warriors for me? What rank are you? A Corpsman? The Nova Corps is really becoming stretched far too thin.”

“This will get us all ranked as Centurions, so you can shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“I’d like to see you try. I’ll kill all of you with my bare hands and I’ll do it naked,” Loki spat.

Loki pounced on him, grabbing his gun and aiming it for the other men. He fired off two shots, killing two of the Corpsmen. They opened fire and he used the first man as a shield. His comrades fired upon him with their blasters and killed him instantly.

Shakk’uri began dragging Kuna away. The Tenanciian men gathered around her, standing on each others shoulders, forming a living shield around their mother.

“No! Get off of me!” Kuna shouted.

“No! You’re mine now! You’ll be safe with me!”

“No! You’re fucking shit!” Kuna said and kicked her as hard as she could.

Shakk’uri let go of her, grabbing at her injured leg. Kuna ran through the legs of the Tenanciian men, towards Loki.

“No! Stop her! There’s a child in the crossfire!” Shakk’uri shouted. “CEASE FIRE!

Loki was busy strangling one of the Nova Corpsmen when he saw Kuna running towards him. Then, through the door, a Nova Centurion marched in, a Syfon Warrior standing close by him.

“Kuna! Stop right there!” Loki shouted to her. His tongue no longer thick, he had used an ample amount of his magic in an effort to heal himself as soon as the Nova Corps revealed themselves and he had come to. Kuna came screeching to a halt at the sight of the two massive men approaching the fight. The man in purple stretched out his hand at Loki. Suddenly, Loki cried out and fell to his knees. A field of energy seemed to billow out of him. The energy was sucked back towards the man’s hand. Loki doubled over as the Syfon absorbed his energy for himself.

“Don’t hurt him!” Kuna shouted. She threw her hands out in front of her and a massive wall of fire erupted from her palms, sending the two men reeling back through the door. She shrieked and fell, nearly unconscious from the effort and pain.

Loki scrambled to his feet, producing the tesseract to teleport them away. The Nova Centurion fired off a blast from his gun. Hearing it, Loki turned to block it from hitting Kuna. The blast hit him in the chest and sent him skidding across the tile floor. The tesseract bounced over Kuna and landed in behind her.

“There it is! Get it, quick!” Shakk’uri ordered the Tenanciian men.

The swarmed towards Kuna. She grabbed the tesseract and cradled it against her chest. Loki was struggling to regain himself after the blow from the blaster. He was dizzy and his eyes could not focus. The Centurion was approaching them again. He grabbed Loki’s arm.

In a flash, Loki grabbed the blaster and shoved it up under the man’s chin. The Centurion fired it himself, blowing his head clean off. Loki turned the blaster on the Syfon but he had his attention drawn towards Kuna. Loki heard Kuna cry out as the Syfon tried to drain her energy too. She writhed in pain, clutching the tesseract close to her.

Loki pulled the trigger of the blaster, holding it back to let off multiple blasts. The Syfon raised his hand and redirected the blasts back at Loki. He dropped the blaster and raised a force field to protect himself and Kuna. The strain of using his magic with such low energy made stars sparkle in his vision. His body felt heavy with weakness. The blasts slammed into the force field.

Loki could not keep the field up against the pounding of each blast. It began to crack and splinter. He glanced over at Kuna. The Tenanciian men were swarming her, kicking and punching her to make her drop the tesseract. She was laying on top of it, keeping it from their reach. She was crying. He pulled one hand away from the force field and flung it backwards at them. Several knives appeared from his fingertips, each one killing a Tenanciian but it was not enough to get them off of Kuna.

Loki turned his attention back to the Syfon, who was gearing up for another attack. The man lifted his hand and unleashed a beam of energy onto Loki’s force field. The field shattered like glass in a window. Loki collapsed, the beam just missing him as he fell.

Kuna saw him fall through the legs of the Tenanciians. They were smothering her. Their hands grabbing at her. She kicked at them and screamed, hugging the tesseract. She did not know what to do. Loki was on the floor a few feet from her and the Syfon Warrior was fast approaching. This was one of the men Loki told her wanted him dead.

“STOP!” she shouted and pounded her fist on the floor.

The ground shook and the Tenanciian men flew backwards in all directions, hitting the walls and high balconies, breaking their backs or necks upon landing. The Syfon flew backwards as well as if hit with a massive wall of wind. She cried out again as a wrenching pain filled every fiber of her body. She felt as if she had been dipped in lava or doused with acid. Her head spun, her vision began to fade but her eyes focused on Loki laying on the ground nearby.

“Loki!” she cried, afraid she had hurt him too. There was a big hole in his chest and she didn’t know how it got there. She struggled to her feet, trying to run to him but stumbled and fell. The Syfon Warrior was regaining himself, ready to unleash a powerful blast on the two hostiles. Loki moaned. Kuna panicked, she reached into the satchel at her side, searching for her toys to comfort her as she would surely be dead soon.

Her hands landed on something cool to the touch. She gripped it and pulled it out: a beautifully forged dagger. She removed it from its scabbard. The Syfon stopped, looming over her.

“Put it down,” he ordered. Kuna stared at the blade. It felt nice in her hand.

“Put it down,” the Syfon ordered once more.

Kuna could feel Loki breathing hard beside her. What would they do to him? To her? Why had Shakk’uri done this after everything they had done for her? Kuna didn’t want to look at the mean man that was walking towards them. Every part of her wanted to cower, to run away, to apologize, to make it stop. But she knew it wouldn’t work. It never did.

“Give it to me,” he said, putting out his hand. She lifted the dagger towards him, turning it around. He lowered his hand to her. She sniffled, hesitating. She liked the way the light glimmered on the blade; the knotwork etching turned black against the blinding light. Finally, she looked up to meet the man’s eyes. He prompted her to give him the dagger again. She lifted it towards him and then slammed the point of the dagger into his arm. Blood gushed forth. The Syfon staggered back, holding his arm, desperately trying to stem the blood flow.

Kuna looked around frantically for the tesseract. She had left it on the floor where she had laid beneath the pile of Tenanciians. Shakk’uri was marching towards it in her massive strides. Kuna dove back on top of it, snatching it before Shakk’uri could stoop to grab it. She kicked Kuna in the face, sending her onto her back. Her nose bled rivers of red. She was stunned by the blow and the tesseract fell to the floor.

“Give. That. To. Me.” Shakk’uri growled, reaching for the tesseract. Loki propped himself up on his hands, desperately trying to stand, to help, despite his weakness. He found his feet, slowly and was ready to tear off Shakk’uri’s head with his last strength. Shakk’uri stooped to pick up the tesseract. Kuna rolled from side to side, crying. The moment before Shakk’uri’s hand touched the tesseract, Kuna attacked. Another blast of fire erupted from her hands, sending both Shakk’uri and Loki reeling backwards. Kuna cried out but gritted her teeth through the pain. She grabbed the tesseract and dove towards Loki.

Shakk’uri was badly burned. Her clothes and body were on fire. The giant woman flailed around as her surviving men chased after her, trying to put her out. Kuna looked up towards the door. It seemed an entire army of Nova Corpsmen were lining up, ready to demolish the hive to get to them. There were others now too. More men in different uniforms, holding guns at them. She looked down at the tesseract in her hand and then at Loki.

“Kuna, no! Don’t!” Loki said, reaching for her.

Time had seemed to slow to a near halt. The Nova Corps were firing their weapons, the blasts zeroing in on them. Loki’s hand moved in slow motion towards the tesseract. She took Loki’s hand instead.

Kuna stared into the tesseract’s glimmering face and pleaded, “Take us somewhere nice, please!”

The vapors surrounded them and they were gone.

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

If you'd like to check out the song Loki sang in this chapter as well as a translation for it, check out this website (https://www.realmofhistory.com/2017/08/02/oldest-norse-song-codex-runicus/).

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki daughter #loki series #avengers: endgame #oc #au

[bigyack-com]

Married E.R. Workers Fear the Worst: What Would Happen to Their Son?

A few nights ago, after their 18-month-old son Nolan went to sleep, Adam Hill and Neena Budhraja sat down on the living room couch in their apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Pen and paper in hand, they turned their attention to a pressing need: figuring out who would be Nolan’s legal guardian if the coronavirus swept them away.They aren’t just anxious parents. Adam, 37, is an emergency room doctor at Elmhurst Hospital Center in Queens. Neena, 39, is a physician assistant in the emergency room at Woodhull Medical and Mental Health Center in Brooklyn.Elmhurst and Woodhull are among the New York City public hospitals that have been most overwhelmed by the virus, and for the past month, the couple’s days and nights have been a blur of intubating terrified patients, navigating stretchers in crowded hallways and searching for clean equipment.The pandemic is putting unimagined strain on medical workers, exposing them to dangers and emotional stress unlike anything they have ever experienced. At least 100,000 people in the city, and probably many more, have been infected with the virus. More than 13,500 have died of the virus or are presumed to have, at least 26 of them public hospital employees.Adam reads a Facebook page for emergency health care workers and sees how everyone is struggling. One couple sent their children to live with relatives. Another doctor has decamped to his basement, where he Facetimes with his children upstairs. Yet another is living at an airport hotel.Adam and Neena don’t have those options. They take turns diving into harm’s way and then returning to each other and to Nolan. Neena has thought about quitting, and then lashed herself for doing so. “I would feel like I am abandoning everyone,” she said.She paused, and then added: “But it's not so simple.”One of Adam’s emergency room colleagues at Elmhurst died in the past week. Neena recently showed up for a Sunday shift to learn that a longtime colleague had died after battling the virus for two weeks.The woman left behind a daughter, a freshman in college. Before she learned she had been infected, Neena’s colleague told her that what worried her most was that she might bring the virus home and make her family sick.Neena had the same worry. They all do.“It’s all very emotional and it’s already such a stressful time to have that on top of everything else,” Neena said. Since the woman’s death, a second colleague and a retired one have died of the virus as well.

An Adrenaline-Fueled Life

The couple met while working in the emergency room at Woodhull, a hulking public hospital that towers over a set of elevated subway tracks at the intersection of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Bushwick and South Williamsburg.Adam is from a large family in Southern Illinois. His brother was a Marine in Iraq and served with the Navy in Afghanistan. Adam views himself as a similar kind of grunt, although one who heals sick patients.Neena, who grew up in Woodhaven, Queens, graduated from one of the city’s top public high schools, Brooklyn Technical High School, and then from the City College of New York. Her parents moved to New York from New Delhi in the 1970s just a few years before she was born.She and Adam were married in 2017, and they lived the kind of high-adrenaline life favored by so many who work in emergency rooms, where they have spent their entire careers. They trekked to Machu Picchu and then climbed Mount Kilimanjaro.They grew accustomed to what Neena called the “predictable unpredictability” of E.R. life. A drunk patient once landed a karate chop to Adam’s chest. An intubation tube sprayed bloody sputum into Neena’s eye. Because the patient it was attached to was H.I.V. positive, Neena took anti-H.I.V. medication for a month as a precaution.She was nearly four months pregnant at the time.Nolan was born three months premature with fragile lungs that put him at high risk of infection. He weighed just 1.5 pounds. Fearful for his health, Adam and Neena had only recently begun to take him to playgrounds. Then the virus hit, and the family hunkered down again.To Adam, it was clear by early March that something was wrong. Men in their 30s and 40s who were otherwise healthy were showing up at the E.R. with fevers or trouble breathing. They would deteriorate rapidly, gasping for air within a few hours.A few weeks ago, he said, he felt “overwhelmed but pretty optimistic, that we will get through this, and I still have that same optimism. But it is definitely becoming clouded by fatigue.”“Also, there’s a sort of looming shadow over … ” His voice trailed off as he began to choke up.The hospital recently installed huge fans in the emergency room to suck out dirty air and hopefully keep the virus from spreading. The fans are “so, so loud,” Adam said. Alarms go off constantly from equipment that is monitoring the breathing of patients on ventilators. Adam wears a respirator that a friend bought him at Sherwin Williams. He and his colleagues are losing their voices from yelling over the noise of the fans and the alarms and trying to be heard through the equipment covering their faces that muffles their voices.“It’s sadly comical,” he said.At Woodhull, Neena puts on her own armor. She covers her scrubs with a gown that hides her wrists. Her long black hair is tied in a bun. She wears an N95 mask, a face shield, a cap and gloves. She uses the same face mask for two straight shifts, instead of changing it between patients as standard protocol calls for.When her shift ends, she tapes her N95 mask to the inside of her locker, and wipes down her face shield and stethoscope with alcohol. She changes out of her scrubs in a bathroom, leaves her sneakers and takes a packed subway or bus home. The trains are uncomfortably crowded these days because of the drastic service cuts since the outbreak began.When she gets to the apartment, she runs away from Nolan, throws her airtight bag of dirty scrubs into the laundry room — where they will sit for at least 48 hours before she washes them — and takes a shower.Until early last month, which seems so long ago, the couple had the typical routine of exhausted young parents: juggling work schedules with child care, one covering the other’s day off. When they were home at the same time, they would put Nolan in his stroller and walk through nearby McCarren Park.Neena’s mother helped out sometimes, but that stopped because of the virus. So it is just the three of them now.Adam’s sleep is terrible. Sometimes, Neena moves to the couch in the middle of the night so that she doesn’t wake him.Late at night, he scrolls through a Facebook group of fellow emergency room doctors. One doctor wears gloves and a mask in his own home to protect his family.“I read these and it makes me second guess myself,” Adam said. “But only for a few seconds.”

Thoughts of Quitting

The day Neena learned of her emergency room colleague’s death was the worst so far. She called it a turning point for Woodhull: the overcrowded emergency room, the lack of isolation rooms, the hallways jammed with people on stretchers waiting days for a spot in intensive care to open up.“It just felt like a battlefield,” she recalled. “It felt like everybody was on vents and everyone was so sick and there was no room and wasn’t enough staff. It was very chaotic.”Emergency room staff members are used to seeing their interventions make a difference. Now, she said, “it feels like you are not making any progress.”When she came home that day, she told Adam that maybe she should quit.“But then what — Adam would live in a hotel and I wouldn’t see him for months?” she said. “He wouldn’t see his son for months? To take him away from him, when he comes home looking shellshocked after every shift, it doesn’t feel right. ”“There comes some guilt too,” she said, choking back tears. “This need to help all these people, but at same time what if doing so you are hurting your own family? It’s tough.”If anything were to happen to Nolan, Neena said, “it would be devastating.”So they all take their temperatures twice a day and hope for the best. On their days off together, they take Nolan to the park.The night they sat on the couch ironing out a will and deciding on a guardian for Nolan, they had to go three deep: Who would take care of Nolan if the appointed guardian died? Who would take care of him if the second relative also died?They wonder if Neena and Nolan were infected in mid-February, when they both had low fevers, body aches and dry coughs. Neena acknowledged that this could be “wishful thinking.”On Tuesday, the couple spoke via FaceTime to a lawyer who was taking the old bank statement they had scrawled the information for a will on and turning it into a proper legal document.They have always planned to practice emergency medicine their entire careers, possibly someplace smaller than New York. Dealing with the pandemic, they said, had only strengthened their commitment.Over the past 10 days, they have seen a steady decline in new virus patients at their hospitals. But the fear that they will get sick remains, particularly as colleagues test positive. And doctors at Elmhurst worry that if people stop social distancing too soon, a second wave of cases will inundate the hospital.A few days ago, after Neena left at 6:30 a.m. for her 12-hour shift, Adam got out of bed, gave Nolan his bottle and breakfast and let him run wild around the apartment.“It usually gives me enough time to make a coffee and sit down,” he said.But this time, he said, he found himself “crying uncontrollably, just finally letting out all the emotions from the past month.”“Right when I am crying he happens to crawl up on the couch and put himself in my lap and started talking nonsense,” he continued. “It just brought me back.”“If I didn’t have Nolan and Neena here to be with and sort of remember why we do all this to begin with, it would be much more difficult than it already is.” Read the full article

#Fear #happen #health #HealthNews #married #son #Workers #worst

[bountyofbeads]

Women Are Fleeing Death at Home. The U.S. Wants to Keep Them Out. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/18/world/americas/guatemala-violence-women-asylum.html

Her Ex-Boyfriend Killed Her Mother. Will the U.S. Offer a Refuge?

Violence against women is driving an exodus of migrants from Central America, but the Trump administration is determined to deny them asylum.

By Azam Ahmed, Photographs by Meridith Kohut and Daniel Berehulak | Published August 18, 2019 3:12 PM ET | New York Times | Posted August 18, 2019 4:15 PM ET |

JALAPA, Guatemala — They climbed the terraced hillside in single file, their machetes tapping the stones along the darkened footpath.

Gehovany Ramirez, 17, led his brother and another accomplice to his ex-girlfriend’s home. He struck the wooden door with his machete, sending splinters into the air.

His girlfriend, Lubia Sasvin Pérez, had left him a month earlier, fleeing his violent temper for her parents’ home here in southeast Guatemala. Five months pregnant, her belly hanging from her tiny 16-year-old frame, she feared losing the child to his rage.

Lubia and her mother slipped outside and begged him to leave, she said. They could smell the sour tang of alcohol on his breath. Unmoved, he raised the blade and struck her mother in the head, killing her.

Hearing a stifled scream, her father rushed outside. Lubia recalled watching in horror as the other men set upon him, splitting his face and leaving her parents splayed on the concrete floor.

For prosecutors, judges and even defense lawyers in Guatemala, the case exemplifies the national scourge of domestic violence, motivated by a deep-seated sense of ownership over women and their place in relationships.

But instead of facing the harsher penalties meant to stop such crimes in Guatemala, Gehovany received only four years in prison, a short sentence even by the country’s lenient standard for minors. More than three years later, now 21, he will be released next spring, perhaps sooner.

And far from being kept from the family he tore apart, under Guatemalan law Gehovany has the right to visit his son upon release, according to legal officials in Guatemala.

The prospect of his return shook the family so thoroughly that Lubia’s father, who survived the attack, sold their home and used the money to pay a smuggler to reach the United States. Now living outside of San Francisco, he is pinning his hopes on winning asylum to safeguard his family. They all are.

But that seems more distant than ever. Two extraordinary legal decisions by the Trump administration have struck at the core of asylum claims rooted in domestic violence or threats against families like Lubia’s — not only casting doubt on their case, but almost certainly on thousands of others as well, immigration lawyers say.

“How can this be justice?” Lubia said before the family fled, sitting under the portico where her mother was killed. “All I did was leave him for beating me and he took my mother from us.”

“What kind of system protects him, and not me?” she said, gathering her son in her lap.

Their case offers a glimpse into the staggering number of Central Americans fleeing violence and dysfunction — and the dogged fight the Trump administration is waging to keep them out.

Across Latin America, a murder epidemic is underway. Most years, more than 100,000 people are killed, largely young men on the periphery of broken societies, where gangs and cartels sometimes take the place of the state.

The turmoil has forced millions to flee the region and seek refuge in the United States, where they confront a system strained by record demand and a bitter fight over whether to accept them.

But violence against women, and domestic violence in particular, is a powerful and often overlooked factor in the migration crisis. Latin America and the Caribbean are home to 14 of the 25 deadliest nations in the world for women, according to available data collected by the Small Arms Survey, which tracks violence globally.

And Central America, the region where most of those seeking asylum in the United States are fleeing, is at the heart of the crisis.

Here in Guatemala, the homicide rate for women is more than three times the global average. In El Salvador, it is nearly six times. In Honduras, it is one of the highest in the world — almost 12 times the global average.

In the most violent pockets of Central America, the United Nations says, the danger is like living in a war zone.

“Despite the risk associated with migration, it is still lower than the risk of being killed at home,” said Angela Me, the chief of research and trend analysis at the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.

The issue is so central to migration that former Attorney General Jeff Sessions, eager to advance the Trump administration’s priority of closing the southern border to migrants, issued a decision last year to try to halt victims of domestic violence, among other crimes, from seeking asylum.

To win asylum in the United States, applicants must show specific grounds for their persecution back home, like their race, religion, political affiliation or membership in a particular social group. Lawyers have sometimes pushed successfully for women to qualify as a social group because of the overwhelming violence they face, citing a 2014 case in which a Guatemalan woman fleeing domestic violence was found to be eligible to apply for asylum in the United States.

But Mr. Sessions overruled that precedent, questioning whether women — in particular, women fleeing domestic violence — can be members of a social group. The decision challenged what had become common practice in asylum courts.

Then, last month, the new attorney general, William P. Barr, went further. Breaking with decades of precedent, he issued a decision making it harder for families, like Lubia’s, to qualify as social groups also.

Violence against women in the region is so prevalent that 18 countries have passed laws to protect them, creating a class of homicide known as femicide, which adds tougher penalties and greater law enforcement attention to the issue.

And yet, despite that broad effort, the new laws have failed to reduce the killings of girls and women in the region, the United Nations says.

That reflects how deep the gender gap runs. For the new laws to make a difference, experts say, they must go far beyond punishment to change education, political discourse, social norms and basic family dynamics.

Though gangs and cartels in the region play a role in the violence, most women are killed by lovers, family members, husbands or partners — men angered by women acting independently, enraged by jealousy or, like Gehovany, driven by a deeply ingrained sense of control over women’s lives.

“Men end up thinking they can dispose of women as they wish,” said Adriana Quiñones, the United Nations Women’s country representative in Guatemala.

A vast majority of female homicides in the region are never solved. In Guatemala, only about 6 percent result in convictions, researchers say. And in the rare occasions when they do, as in Lubia’s case, they are not always prosecuted vigorously.

Even defense attorneys believe Gehovany should have been charged with femicide, which would have put him in prison a couple of years longer. The fact that he was not, some Guatemalan officials acknowledge, underscores the many ways in which the nation’s legal system, even when set up to protect women, continues to fail them.

In the courtroom, Lubia’s father, Romeo de Jesus Sasvin Dominguez, spoke up just once.

It didn’t make sense, he told the judge, shaking his head. A long white scar ran over the bridge of his nose, a relic of the attack. How could the laws of Guatemala favor the man who killed his wife, who hurt his daughter?

“We had a life together,” he told the judge, nearly in tears. “And he came and took that away from us just because my daughter didn’t want to be in an abusive relationship.”

“I just don’t understand,” he said.

‘It’s Like Our Like Daily Bread’

Lubia’s son crawled with purpose, clutching a toy truck he had just relieved of its back wheel.

The family watched in grateful distraction. Years after the murder, they still lived like prisoners, trapped between mourning and fear. A rust-colored stain blotted the floor where Lubia’s mother died. The dimpled doorjamb, hacked by the machete, had not been repaired. Lubia’s three younger sisters refused even to set foot in the bedroom where they hid during the attack.

Santiago Ramirez, Gehovany’s brother, never went to prison, spared because of a mental illness. Neighbors often saw him walking the village streets.

Soon, Gehovany would be, too. The family worried the men would come back, to finish what they started.

“There’s not much we can do,” said Mr. Sasvin Dominguez, sending Lubia’s son on his way with the toy truck. “We don’t have the law in our hands.”

He had no money to move and owned nothing but the house, which the family clung to but could hardly bear. His two sons lived in the United States and had families of their own to support. He hadn’t seen them in years.

“I’m raising my daughters on my own now, four of them,” he said.

He woke each morning at 3 a.m., hiking into the mountains to work as a farm hand. The girls, whose high cheekbones and raven-colored hair resembled their mother’s, no longer went to school. With the loss of her income from selling knickknacks on the street, they couldn’t afford to pay for it.

His youngest daughter especially loved classes: the routine, the books, the chance to escape her circumscribed world. But even she had resigned herself to voluntary confinement. The stares and whispers of classmates — and the teasing of especially cruel ones — had grown unbearable. In town, some residents openly blamed Lubia for what happened. Even her own aunts did.

“There’s no justice here,” said Lubia, who added that she wanted to share her story with the public for that very reason. Her father did, too.

In her area, Jalapa, a region of rippled hills, rutted roads and a cowboy culture, men go around on horseback with holstered pistols, their faces shaded by wide-brimmed hats. Though relatively peaceful for Guatemala, with a lower homicide rate than most areas, it is very dangerous for women.

Insulated from Guatemala’s larger cities, Jalapa is a concentrated version of the gender inequality that fuels the femicide crisis, experts say.

“It’s stark,” said Mynor Carrera, who served as dean of the Jalapa campus of the nation’s largest university for 25 years. “The woman is treated often like a child in the home. And violence against them is accepted.”

Domestic abuse is the most common crime here. Of the several dozen complaints the Jalapa authorities receive each week, about half involve violence against women.

“It’s like our daily bread,” said Dora Elizabeth Monson, the prosecutor for women’s issues in Jalapa. “Women receive it morning, afternoon and night.”

At the courthouse, Judge Eduardo Alfonso Campos Paz maintains a docket filled with such cases. The most striking part, he said, is that most men struggle to understand what they’ve done wrong.

The problem is not easily erased by legislation or enforcement, he said, because of a mind-set ingrained in boys early on and reinforced throughout their lives.

“When I was born, my mom or sister brought me food and drink,” the judge said. “My sister cleaned up after me and washed my clothes. If I wanted water, she would get up from wherever she was and get it for me.”

“We are molded to be served, and when that isn’t accomplished, the violence begins,” he said.

Across Guatemala, complaints of domestic violence have skyrocketed as more women come forward to report abuse. Every week, it seems, a new, gruesome case emerges in newspapers, of a woman tortured, mutilated or dehumanized. It is an echo of the systematic rape and torture women endured during the nation’s 36-year civil war, which left an indelible mark on Guatemalan society.

But today, the countries with the highest rates of femicide in the region, like Guatemala, also suffer the highest homicide rates overall — often leaving the killing of women overlooked or dismissed as private domestic matters, with few national implications.

The result is more disparity. While murders in Guatemala have dropped remarkably over the last decade, there is a notable difference by gender: Homicides of men have fallen by 57 percent, while killings of women have declined more slowly, by about 39 percent, according to government data.

“The policy is to investigate violence that has more political interest,” said Jorge Granados, the head of the science and technology department at Guatemala’s National Institute of Forensic Sciences. “The public policy is simply not focused on the murder of women.”

The femicide law required every region in the nation to install a specialized court focused on violence against women. But more than a decade later, only 13 of 22 are in operation.

“The abuse usually happens in the home, in a private context,” said Evelyn Espinoza, the coordinator of the Observatory on Violence at Diálogos, a Guatemalan research group. “And the state doesn’t involve itself in the home.”

In Lubia’s case, she fell in love with Gehovany in the fast, unstoppable way that teenagers do. By the time they moved in together, she was already pregnant.

But Gehovany’s drinking, abuse and stultifying expectations quickly became clear. He wanted her home at all times, even when he was out, she said. He told her not to visit her family.

She knew Gehovany would consider her leaving a betrayal, especially being pregnant with his child. She knew society might, too. But she had to go, for the baby’s sake, and was relieved to be free of him.

Until the night of Nov. 1, 2015, at around 9 p.m., when he came to reclaim her.

The New York Times tried to reach Gehovany, who fled after the killing and later turned himself in. But because he was a minor at the time of the murder, officials said, they could not arrange an interview or comment on the case.

His oldest brother, Robert Ramirez, argued that Gehovany had acted in self-defense and killed Lubia’s mother accidentally.

Still, Mr. Ramirez defended his brother’s decision to confront Lubia’s family that night, citing a widely held view of a woman’s place in Jalapa.

“He was right to go back and try to claim her,” he said. “She shouldn’t have left him.”

He looked toward his own house, etched into a clay hillside, a thread of smoke from a small fire curling through the doorway.

“I’d never allow my wife to leave me,” he said.

The Smugglers’ Road North

Mr. Sasvin Dominguez woke suddenly, startled by an idea.

He rushed to town in the dark, insects thrumming, a dense fog filling the mountains. In a single day, it was all arranged. He would sell his home and use the proceeds to flee to the United States.

The $6,500 was enough to buy passage for him and his youngest daughter, then 12. Traveling with a young child was cheaper, and often meant better treatment by American officials. At least, that’s what the smuggler said.

He hoped to reach his sons in California. With luck, he could find work, support the girls back home — and get asylum for the entire family.

The Dominguez Family’s Journey

A week later, in October of last year, he left with his daughter. A guide crossed them into Mexico. Soon, they reached the side of a highway, where a container truck sat idling. Inside, men, women and children were packed tight, with hardly enough space to move.

A dense heat filled the space, the sun baking the metal box as bodies brushed against one another. They spent nearly three days in the container before the first stop, he said.

The days went by in a blur, a log of images snatched from the fog of exhaustion. An open hangar, grumbling with trucks. Rolling desert, dotted by cactus. Sunlight glaring off the metal siding of a safe house.

They rode in at least five container trucks, as best they can remember. Hunger chased them. Some days, they got half an apple. On others, they got rice and beans. Sometimes they got nothing.

One night, they saw a man beaten unconscious for talking after the smugglers told him to be quiet.

“I remember that moment,” said his daughter, whose name is being withheld because she is still a minor. Her hands twisted at the memory. “I felt terrified,” she said.

Days later, starved for food, water and fresh air, she passed out in a container crammed with more than 200 migrants, her father holding her, fanning her with whatever documents he had.

In early November, they arrived in the Mexican border town of Reynosa, and were spirited into a safe house. After weeks on the road, they were getting close.

That day, the smugglers called one of Mr. Sasvin Dominguez’s sons, demanding an extra $400 to ferry the two across the river to Texas. If not, they would be tossed out of the safe house, left to the seething violence of Reynosa.

Mr. Sasvin Dominguez’s son sent the money. Last-minute extortions have come to be expected. A day later, they boarded a raft and entered the United States.

They wandered the dense brush before they stumbled upon a border patrol truck and turned themselves in.

Mr. Sasvin Dominguez said he and his daughter spent four days in Texas, in a facility with no windows. The fluorescent glare of the overhead lights continued day and night, troubling their sleep. It was cold. The migrants called it the icebox.

When they were released in November, Mr. Sasvin Dominguez was fitted with an ankle bracelet and instructed to check in with the immigration authorities in San Francisco, where he could begin the long process of applying for asylum.

His son bought them bus tickets and met them at the station. It was the first time they had seen each other in seven years.

California

On a sunny day in June, Mr. Sasvin Dominguez shuffled to a park, his daughter riding in front, hunched over the bars of a pink bicycle meant for a girl half her age. Behind him, his son and grandson tottered along, hand in hand.

They traversed a quintessential American landscape — bungalows perched on tidy green yards, wide sidewalks shaded by soaring live oaks.

He and his daughter live in the family’s modest one-bedroom apartment, now bursting at the seams. The trappings of suburban life fill the backyard: toolboxes, wheelbarrows, recycling bins.

But Mr. Sasvin Dominguez remains suspended in the sadness and fear he left behind in Guatemala. His other daughters are still trapped, and there is no money to move them.

Besides, he says, the journey north, even if they could afford it, is far too dangerous for three young women and a toddler to take on their own. His only hope, he says, is asylum.

That could take years, he is told, if it happens at all. A heavy backlog of cases is gumming up the courts. He does not even have a date yet for his first hearing.

In the meantime, he lives in self-imposed austerity, scared to embrace his new life, as if doing so might belittle the danger his daughters still face.

In the park, families cooked out and blasted reggaeton. His daughter play-fought with her nephew, who never tired, no matter how many handfuls of grass she stuffed down his shirt, or how many times he retreated in tears.

She has found a better rhythm in their new life. In June, she finished sixth grade at the local school, which she loves. Her older brother keeps the graduation certificate on the small dining table.

She has dyed the tips of her hair purple, a style she’s grown fond of. Her face often falls back into the wide smile of the past, when her mother enrolled her in local beauty contests.

But she grows stormy and unpredictable at times, refusing to speak. She misses her mother. Her sisters, too.

Stuck in Guatemala, Lubia and her two other sisters moved into a small apartment, where they share a single bed. A portrait of their mother hangs on the wall.

They all work now, making tortillas in town. But they go straight home after, to avoid being spotted. Not long ago, Lubia ran into Gehovany’s mother.

Life for the sisters is measured in micro-improvements, pockets of air in the stifling fear. They are scarcely more than children themselves, raising children alone. Lubia’s 18-year-old sister now has an infant of her own.

They sometimes visit their mother’s grave, a green concrete box surrounded by paddle-shaped cactus.

“We are left here with nothing,” Lubia said.

She still bears the stigma of what happened. Neighbors, men and women alike, continue to blame her for her mother’s death. It doesn’t surprise her anymore. Now 20, she says she understands that women almost always bear the blame for problems at home.

She worries about the world her son will grow up in, what she can teach him and what he will ultimately come to believe. One day, she will tell him about his father, she says, but not now, or anytime soon.

By then, she hopes to be in the United States, free of the poverty, violence and suffocating confines for women in Guatemala.

“Here in Guatemala,” she said, “justice only exists in the law. Not in reality.”

Meridith Kohut in Jalapa, Guatemala and Paulina Villegas in Mexico City contributed reporting.

Azam Ahmed is the bureau chief for Mexico, Central America and the Caribbean. He was previously the Afghanistan bureau chief, and has also covered the world of high finance and white-collar crime for the Business desk.

#asylum #u.s. immigration and customs enforcement #immigration reform #immigrants #immigration #domestic terrorism #Domestic violence #trump scandals #trumpism #trump administration #president donald trump #trump news #trumpsupporters #ivanka trump #donald trump jr #trumpcamps #against trump #u.s. news #u.s. presidential elections #u.s. department of justice #u.s. border patrol #u.s. customs and border protection #homeland security #u. s. foreign policy

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How one woman is changing the conversation around miscarriages

15.5 thousand is the number of people following Dr. Jessica Zuckers powerful Instagram account, “I had a miscarriage.” Dr. Zucker, the L.A.-based clinical psychologist behind the social media movement, started the account in 2015.

Of the account, Dr. Zucker told People: Its really been a community builder. Its been really overwhelming in a positive way. It shows how hungry women are for connection when it comes to pregnancy loss.

@thewildandher shares: Dear baby Brooke, Yesterday with my feet in the sand and my hand on my belly, I could feel him looking at me. I glanced over at your father and watched him remember. Watched him do the math. Watched ‘she would have reached full term by now’ cross his face. Watched him work out why I’d been so clingy all week, so after affection from him. Watched him count the times I have crawled up into a ball on his lap and stared out over the ocean. All week my body has been preparing itself for labour. Phantom contractions and a feeling of wanting to retreat. My mind tells me it’s not real, that you died some time ago, but my body tells me I’m ready to birth you. That I’ve reached nine months and now you’re ready to fall earth side. Except you aren’t. Except you have already touched earth, prematurely, without a heartbeat. So today, as I spend some hours by myself in reflection, I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for making me a mother for the second time. Thank you for opening me even wider than I thought possible and leaving the door ajar for your sibling to follow right behind you. The sibling that has spent the last seven months sleeping where you slept. I thought this would be the week that I finally let go. Let go of you. Only to realise that a mother never lets go. Other people do, they say things like “well at least you can still get pregnant again”, but a mother never stops grieving the life of the children she has lost. The soul that lived briefly wrapped underneath the mother’s heart. Thank you for softening me. For teaching me the power of Grace. A lesson I will never stop learning. To our baby who we always believed had a spirit of water, the one who nearly became River, but eventually became Brooke. The one who was, in the end, birthed into the water pooling on the floor of the shower (from water you began, into water you fell), I love you in a way no prayer can describe. Maybe one day, on the other side, I’ll meet you. _ #thewildandher #IHadAMiscarriage #miscarriage #rainbowbaby #pregnancyafterloss #grief #loss #1in4

A post shared by Jessica Zucker, Ph.D. (@ihadamiscarriage) on Mar 20, 2017 at 11:59am PDT

BODY BLOGGER TAKES UNFLATTERING PICTURES TO PROVE POINT ABOUT INSTAGRAM

The account came three years after Zucker experienced her own pregnancy loss, a miscarriage in her second trimester. Her loss led to a line of sympathy cards in 2014 touting the hashtag #ihadamiscarriage, which become her Instagram name a year later.

Miscarriages are one of the most common losses of pregnancy in the United States as many as 25% of American women will have a miscarriage in their lifetime according to the American Pregnancy Association and yet, women still feel stigmatized and shamed by it.

Those feelings of guilt and stigma are what Dr. Zucker aims to do away with. On her account, Zucker encourages followers to share their stories and photos about their miscarriages, stillbirths and other pregnancy losses. Zucker also shares photos she finds helpful or moving.

A post shared by Jessica Zucker, Ph.D. (@ihadamiscarriage) on Jul 24, 2017 at 2:18pm PDT

One of the most recent photos she has uploaded shows a watercolor of a female torso that says Farewell to stigma printed on her stomach illustrating what Zucker hopes to accomplish with her social media account.

To People, Dr. Zucker emphasized: It would be great, in my lifetime, if culture changes around this topic. I dont know what begets what. Is it the silence that begets the shame and stigma, or is it the stigma that begets the silence and the shame? These three things all impact each other. So my hope is this is a conversation that people can feel comfortable having without berating themselves or feeling a sense of shame.

Dr. Zuckers account is public to give people a safe place to share their stories and feelings.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2u2YcJO

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2vdsJcU via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ