#<- ill show his normal form soon hopefully

[not-super-sonic]

imposters

[kalcifers-blog]

IRIS FILES - ROBBIE THE ZOMBIE

CW - Physical/Mental Deterioration, Derealization, Rotting Alive, Zombification, Bugs/Insects, Medical Horror

Word Count: 994

Character Count: 4,271

CLASSIFICATION: ALTR 181502

ALTR AGE: 24 YRS OLD

ALTR HEIGHT: 5 “5

ALTR SEX: X

ALTR STATUS: UNSTABLE

ALTR INFO: 18152 contracted an unknown illness after an encounter with ALTR 114209. He was advised to keep track of his symptoms in the form of a journal; IRIS Researchers have secured the journal to track 18152's both physical and mental development.

08/09/2016

“Not been great lately, I've had cold or flu symptoms for the past two weeks, really has been messing with my focus, not great for when I'm trying to study or play as well as I usually can but I've been pushing through it!

I'm still a bit shaken up from that creepy ass guy from last month- it messed with me. I'm glad IRIS is here to help out with my case tho, hopefully they catch the freak. I keep getting all fidgety and anxious whenever I'm out in public. I mean I guess that's normal after something like that but still, doesn't make it easier. I would hang out with friends to make me feel safer but I don't wanna get them sick, hopefully this'll pass

-R”

15/09/2016

“God my head will not stop pounding, I got my headache about 2 days ago, it started off only occasionally but god it just keeps flaring up and more often. My flu hasn't gotten any better. It makes it hard to do anything, I keep getting by, slowly but surely.

-R”

22/09/2016

“Been bed ridden this week- I thought rest would probably help but, every time I sleep I keep dreaming of that guy- I don't remember it fully and it's probably just some weird trauma thing but he keeps.. I don't really know how to describe it? He keeps warping. I don't know its probably just some dream shit”

29/09/2016

“haven't been able to eat properly.. keep feeling this itch on my neck, its not bad just annoying mostly. My phone hurts my eyes. Keep dreaming of creeper.im sure he didn't actually look like that. Sorry for the bad handwriting, I'm so tired nd my hands hurt. Might try sleeping again”

30/09/2016

“woke up and puked, pretty badly too- dreaming of that guy hurts my head”

05/10/2016

“Really should call a doctor I think. I did call IRIS, I'm sure I did, they said they'd send someone over. No one came- my body hurts, everywhere it's just this dull ache. I might try

and shower or something. I don't know what to do at this point- no ones coming I've waited and waited and no one showed. The itching got worse, I don't know what's wrong with me I just need someone to come help”

“Why is no one answering my calls???”

12/10/2016

“Tried to shower, clumps of my hair just- came out. I just cried something is wrong with me I called IRIS again I told them it was urgent and I need help. The creeper answered me. It couldn't have been real- but it made me throw my phone accidentally. It broke and I can't get it to work again. I can't keep going on like this. The itching keeps spreading too- it now feels like things are crawling in my organs. I can't scratch there”

“Threw up again, mostly blood- it was clumpy, I think it was bits of my throat. It hurts my throat to breathe let alone talk”

16/10/2016

“The man in my room can't be here- I didn't let anyone in, he shouldn't be here”

23/10/2016

“I found out why I feel like there things crawling in me. I threw up a dead bug. The itching keeps going. I think I need to leave”

“I left my apartment. The air stung and I felt everyone's eyes on me. I don't care i just need help”

“IRIS won't let me in. Or near anyone.”

30/10/2016

“They're keeping me here. They keep giving me things. They poked IVs in me- the skin just teared away. It hurt so much, it feels good to actually be given medication. It's not kicked in yet but I think it should soon. The nurse gave me a funny look when I described my creep to him. I don't know, I just wanna sleep”

IRIS Supplemental:

ALTR 181502, previously known as Robert “Robbie” James, was announced as clinically dead to the public on 05/11/2016. Within the IRIS Foundation however it should be known that ALTR 181502, while maintaining a “corpse-like” appearance, is very much alive. IRIS researchers and medics have been working on a plausible theory on the rapid and alarming decline in ATLR 181502’s health after an apparent encounter with ALTR 114209. This variation of effects with 114209 seems to be an outlier. But until a working theory has been confirmed, the containment is highly necessary for both ALTR 181502 and for the wider public. Some IRIS staff have left due to unknown illnesses after contact with ALTR 181502. Their symptoms are yet to be examined but they are all in highly secure quarantine zones until they are confirmed to not be carrying a “Zombie Virus” as the research staff seem to be calling it.

As for ALTR 181502- exact details of his initial encounter with ALTR 114209 are documented in his original report to IRIS. His condition remains unpleasant. And it seems the best we can hope for is to keep him in containment until we understand what's going on.

The journal, as well as the remainder of ALTR 181502's belongings have been quarantined or burned. We managed to digitise his IRIS issued journal for the research sake. In said journal we believe the figure he describes is ALTR 114209- as it is within it's behaviour to torment it's victims while they are in mental distress.

It was discovered, by one such medic, after attempting an autopsy on ALTR 181502, that he is very much no longer human. If the hive of moth larvae that has eaten away at all of his organs have anything to say about it at least. How he still is living, albeit not pleasantly, is about as good a guess as yours as it is mine.

End Supplemental.

[mrswrightreal]

hi! this is my first time requesting ever and I read a lot of ur blogs. can you do a ticci toby fluff when femreader is sick? influenza season is killing me :') thank youu!

U READ ALOT OF MY BLOGS OMG I AM FLATTERED BUT Ugh, flu season!! I hope you feel better soon, but in the meantime....

coughing fits.

pairing: tobias rogers x fem!reader

category: fluffffff

synopsis: the holiday season is finally here! but that only means sneezing and sleeping all day was trailing close behind. you fall ill one morning and toby is all over you, sorta. your sweet man taking care of you poor thing.

warnings?: pet names, mention of Toby's work, mention of blood, pre established relationship, taking cold medicine

the season of snow, wind, and freezing temps was upon your area, leaving room for all the sniffles to finally raid your systems. dead leaves started to fall from the tree in your front yard, and then all of a sudden, there was about a foot of snow. you swore you only blinked, and a month passed by. Christmas lights strewn across the roofs of your neighbors' home, twinkling in the night sky. roads full of brown, slushy, mixture of snow, ice, and dirt.

you were so excited to be spending another holiday with toby, you're sweet and kind boyfriend. you were setting up your Christmas decorations around the house while toby was out on a mission, hopefully keeping his clothes out of blood. it would save you time on another scrubbing day. you hummed quietly to yourself, setting a tiny snowman and candle on the center of your dining room table. your lips full of a smile as you walked to the center of your shared home, hands on your hips with a triumphant holiday feeling.

you cuddled in the corner of the couch, wrapped in a blanket and holding a mug of hot chocolate. a book we resting on the arm of the couch, your eyes glancing through the words boredly. you watched the snow lightly fall from the sky from your window, suddenly noticing Toby's car was in the driveway. you got up and opened the door for him, seeing him walk up the path to the porch.

he stomped the snow off of his boots and stood on the welcome rug, blood smeared in his hair and over his goggles. there were faint stains littering around his sweater, but overall, to your standards. he walked in and smiled, immediately leaning down and placing a kiss on your lips.

"hi s- sweetheart" he twitched, bending down to untie and removed his boots. he lifted back up, hands finding your waist and looking down at you.

you smiled, his cheeks and nose rosy with the bitter cold. "hi lovely, how was today?" you asked, hands coming up to inspect the blood sticking in his hair.

he just sighed and sunk into you more, "eh, real-real easy" he hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and walking more into your home.

the night went on like normal, watching a mindless show and talking or reading. you'd end the day by laying in eachothers arms, curled into the soft sheets and large comforter. you two fell asleep soundly, just like any other normal night.

when you woke up, your back was facing toby, arms sprawled out in different directions. you felt a hazy fuzz in your head, your muscles too weak to push yourself up. you then realized you couldn't breathe through your nose, but your throat hurt too much to breathe through your mouth. you had gotten sick. you groaned a bit, which had toby stirring awake. he face you, smiling softly

"morn-ning" he huffed, searching your face and noticing your pale expression.

"I'm sick" you said, voice all nasally and clogged. it made you sigh, closing your eyes again and snuggling into the pillows.

"aw bunny, lemme check - che-" he twitched again, sighing and trying to breathe through his words, "check your temp" he finished, climbing over you and trudging tiredly to the closet outside of rhe bathroom.

he came back to your shared you, smiling sympathetically at your sleeping form again. he settled onto his knees, reaching out to press the back of his twitching hand against your warming forehead.

"oh youre- awfully wa-warm" he cooed, "cmon, open up" he requested, holding the thermometer to your lips.

you obeyed and let him slip the thermometer under your tongue, closing again and watching the number rise steadily. his hand rested on the side of your face comfortingly, thumb stroking over the hill of your cheekbone. the thermometer beeped, indicating your final temperature at 101°F. he cringed and sighed.

"stay h-here, gonna get ya-you a cloth" he hummed, standing up and putting the device away and running cool water over a washcloth.

he returned and rolled you on to your back, tucking the blanket up to your chin and putting a cool towel over your forehead. he sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand over your waist.

"want tea? it- it would help" he whispered, watching your face wince at the initial wave of cold.

you began to cough, rooting deep from the bottom of your lungs. the more you gasped for air, the more you coughed, and the more you coughed, the more you gasped for air. you were in a total, never-ending coughing fit. toby only laughed before reaching his hand behind your neck and sitting you up. letting you regain composure and catching your breath, softly this time.

"I'll be buh-back with your tea, mkay? j-just try and luh-lean against the headboard" he set you gently in a slightly upwards position, balancing the towel around your neck now.

he sat up and walked to the kitchen, preparing your tea. he added some brown sugar and honey to soothe your throat and brighten the flavor. he brought you a few tablets of cold medicine and your favorite book. he waited till the tea kettle whistled, then poured it into a mug. setting the bag at the bottom and blowing on the water to cool it off a bit.

he made his way back to your moping figure, setting the tea on the bedside table carefully. he set the pills and book down alongside you and tapped your shoulder.

"gotta take some medicine, luh-lovely" he shook you some more, only to see your glossy eyes pout up at him.

you whined, "no, I hate that stuff.. please toby" you said quietly, watching him grab the pills and hold them to your lips.

"I nuh-know but it's going to muh-make you feel better later" he explained, pushing then closer until your tongue stuck out.

toby placed them gently in your mouth, watching your face squeeze and tense at the bitter taste. he grabbed your cup of tea and hovered it towards your lips, allowing you to sip down the warm liquid safely. you felt the pills run down your throat, and finally, the taste was gone, now replaced by warm sugar-coated honey tea. he set the cup down again and climbed into bed next to you.

"I'm sorry you fuh-feel like this hun," he cooed, pulling you into his arms and letting you rest there, he didn't mind getting sick, as long as he got it from you, atleast. "want soup?" he asked quietly

"later" you hummed, falling back asleep against his shoulders. he just held you, waiting for the right moment to lay you down and sneak out of bed.

he did his own thing for a while, cleaning around the house and reporting some stuff to tim. he'd occasionally check up on you, but every time was the same. your lips slightly parted and chest rising slowly, completely out like a light. it was reaching about 1pm now, toby deciding you needed to eat now. he prepared your favorite soup, pouring it into your fancy bowl and taking it to your room.

he set it next to your tea, using the same routine as before. he tapped you awake, your eyes blinking up at him. you sniffed a little, before nothing the soup.

"thank you baby" you sighed, your hands shaking to grip the bowl, but toby smacked your hand away.

"dont move a muh-muscle, gotta rest your body" he explained, sitting up by your chest and holding the bowl in his lap.

you sat up slowly and smiled, "you're too good to me" you sighed dreamily, the spoon coming to your lips with a bit of steam from the liquid.

you opened up, placing your lips around the spoon and drinking down the warm and silky goodness. he just laughed and kissed your forehead

"you deserve nothing but the buh-best, gonna take care of yuh-you" he shrugged, giving you another spoonful of soup.

the rest of the day was just like that, resting in bed and having your lovely toby take care of you. only for him to fall sick a few days later, leaving you to take care of him now.

_______________________

authors note: I hope this was good!! I love this and toby is just always a gentleman sweetheart, I hope you get better anon!!!

[spookytragedyshark]

Danny finding jason as soon as he comes to Gotham but before redhood arch. Jason being too occupied with this kid who floated through his wall and threw several thousand dollars at him.

"Pretend to be my older brother so the weird rich people who want to adopt me don't find out about my ummmmm concerning but loving family situation."

So just Jason be like accepting the job because wtf is this kid in danger at home or from the weird rich people.

"OH warning I look like one of the rich people's dead son and him and all his adopted kids are terrified ill die a second time soooooo you have about five minutes to decide before they find us." Danny promptly changes forms and "pretends" to be asleep oh his lap. Jason really hopes he's pretending.

Jason blue screens as Nightwing enters his apartment "Danny are you okay? Were are- oh oh were you electric- wait we aren't supposed to ask that. Sorry. Ummm we are working on a lab for Danny but we weren't aware he had family *looks around* visiting? So I'm not sure if we have enough for both of you. It might take a few days."

Jason blue screens "yeah I just got here and I'm legally dead so this is the best I could get. Hopefully I can get it fixed up for my little bro" yeah Danny is his now.

Nightwing makes a face. "I'm glad he has family at least now we know he's not sleeping in a dumpster anymore"

Jason international screaming "he did what?!?"

"He memorized the garbage schedule and slept in empty dumpsters for a while."

"He told me he was staying with a friend. Ugh I'll talk with him when he wake up" Jason says face-palming.

"What should we call you? Do you have two names like Danny" Nightwing asks.

"Jay and hood" jason stays because clearly this kid is a vigilante too and he couldn't come up with anything better at the moment.

"Okay okay so warning if any of the vigilantes start histarically sobbing opon seeing you its perfectly normal you look even more like him than your brother. And get as far away as possible if you see a clown while I'm sure you can handle it the thing keeps coming back to life more twisted each time so it's best to capture it and pray." Nightwing is shaking and jason wonders if the mask has been redesigned to keep it from showing if he's crying.

"Got it creepy clown no go even before" Jason nods. He'll look into the keeps coming back to life thing later.

"Yeah Danny flips out over normal clowns too doesn't he? There's a Gotham wide ban on clowns. I'm gonna head out and let the others know Danny is crashing with his brother now. Will you be joining us on potral with Danny?"

"Yeah gotta get me a new suit first tho." Well it's a good way to collect information at least.

With that Nightwing is gone.

"Kid what did you do?" Jason pauses there's no green in his vision. Normal in the dark it's at least tented.

When he wakes up the next day he finds a note on his table and no kid in his lap.

Dear Jay

Sorry about yesterday will explain better tonight. Had to go deal the Fruitloop villain that's trying to adopt me.

At least he'll be able to askthe kid question later. For now he'll look into some of the stuff Nightwing said last night.

The Joker really did get killed multiple times.

Every member of his adopted family had killed him at some point.

This didn't make any sense. Plus his new brother was a Ghost? But clearly not? And there's a new Robin but why didn't that feel right either. He looked so familiar. Did he know the new Robin?

As he stood outside his safe house door he heard two voices.

"Dick you can't break into people's homes regardless-" a familiar voice

"They had two cans of beans and mtd. The kid can't survive on that becides it's better us than Bruce or Alfred" Okay so it's Dick and someone else. And apparently they are judging his eating habits.

"I understand buying food but shouldn't you at least ask them before " He must have made a jester to something. Did Dick buy him and his baybrother food?

"That would give them the chance to say no. Tim. It's our second chance however odd it is and I'm going to pamper them." Dick says.

Tim? Timmy? Timmers? No none of them sounded right.

"Dick. . . we should get them a Hulu or Netflix subscription" Tim says. Dick snorts.

Jason decides to open the door then.

Oh it's baby stalker. Not so baby any more. Both men look over. The entire apartment has been cleaned and there's new furniture.

Tim tears up.

"You cleaned my apartment?" Jason asks.

"Bruce wanted to move you to a penthouse." Dick shrugs.

"He insisted we give you a card incase you need anything" Tim states handing him a Honorary Wayne Credit Card. Jason briefly wonders how they got that made into a real thing.

"Also there's two stealth suits in your room just in case" Tim states.

The two get back to work putting up groceries. Jason would be mad but the king size bed is really comfy and for some reason he's absolutely exhausted.

Sorry took a while to tag did not have computer and had to do some work.

@meira-3919 @apointlessbox @mnemovoid @krzys2000 @emergentpanda-blog @overtherose @im-totally-not-an-alien @vythika96 @olivethetreebitch @slapphapp1 @56thingsinaname @leftmiraclechaos @sjrose1216 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @mimilikey

Danny gets fangs but he is still growing into them so when the league summons him, he kinda has a lisp

So dick, who has a kid in his gymnastics class with a similar problem, offers help with that in exchange of Danny dealing with whatever threat

Danny agrees immediately

Dick regrets it when he has to keep Bruce AND himself from adopting the kid once he shows up in his human form because oh my god that is a tiny Jason- dad don't look-

[puffpasstea]

Random blurb idea - could you please do a blurb maybe where Matilda travels to surprise harry on tour, and maybe has her text notifs off bc of travel so harry is upset/concerned bc she’s not responding to his messages? Like a mix of angst and smut?

Sorry if you hate this and its nothing like you wanted.

Warnings: angst, smut, (brief) mentions of mental illness.

---

"I'm sorry, okay? but to be fair, I never said I'd come for sure. I only said I'd try." I adjusted the phone in my hand.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to. I can practically feel you brooding all the way over here."

"'M not brooding. Know better than to expect you to just drive out cuz I happen to be playin' a show nearby. Even though we haven't seen each other in months."

"But you're not brooding or anything, right?"

"Right."

"I have to work, Harry! Not all of us can just change our plans on a whim and expect the whole world to accommodate our schedules, you know. Some of us have real jobs. Plus, you know I get anxious about this kind of thing. I'm not a professional rockstar-"

"No, you have a real job."

"C'mon, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"'S alright. I have to go, anyway. Sound check starts in a bit."

"Talk soon?"

"Bye, Matilda."

***

The wheels of my carry-on squeaked gratingly as I pulled it across the airport. I couldn't believe I was actually going through with this. I felt foolish. Like some love-struck teenager sneaking out of her bedroom at night for a boy who doesn't even know her name. Except I'm an adult. And Harry- well, it's complicated. But my therapist did say that I needed to start getting out of my comfort zone and doing things that I wouldn't normally do. Something about practice making things easier, or whatever. I've certainly never done this before. Granted I've arrived way too early for a domestic flight, and I'm sure I've overpacked for this weekend trip. Hopefully, the look on Harry's face will be worth it though.

A knot formed in my stomach every time I thought about how I spoke to him on the phone the other night. All he wanted was a chance for us to finally see each other again, but the thought made me feel threatened somehow. Like I'd admit to being attached to him if I were willing to come all this way. Of course, I could've been nice about it, or at least avoided implying that his job was less real than mine. All I can do now is hope that he doesn't still remember all that.

***

My fingers were shaky against the screen of my phone as I selected the "airplane mode" and plugged in my headphones. Perhaps getting four shots of espresso in my crappy airport coffee wasn't the sanest decision, or maybe the trembling was simply nerves, either way, I needed a distraction. Launching the music streaming app, I went for the "downloads" tab, and played "Matilda" as the pilot announced our take-off.

***

I ran across the airport, my squeaky luggage in hand until I reached the crowded escalator, regretfully bumping into the person in front of me before reaching a halt.

"E-excuse me, sorry." I whispered, but the man didn't seem to care. I peered beyond him at the long line of people. Damn was this thing crowded. I needed it to move faster. I needed to use the restroom. Airplane bathrooms gave me the creeps. And drinking soda with my stale complementary pretzels on the flight was a huge mistake with a bladder like mine.

hurry, hurry, hurry. I tapped my foot against my carry-on, impatiently, and earned a side-eye from the person in front of me.

"Again, sorry, sir."

***

I stared at my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror. Gross airplane smell isn't exactly the scent I want Harry to associate with me. I took out my TSA-approved, mini-toiletries and began damage control. Freshening up, re-applying make-up, and spraying some perfume might help counteract the post-flight aroma and general vibe.

I promised myself that if this ends up going badly, my therapist is going to have to pay me next week.

The shorter the distance between Harry and I, the louder my heartbeat felt. It was practically in my eardrums by now. I hated keeping secrets from him, but I've also never surprised anyone before. If I was being honest, there was a tinge of excitement and anticipation about this, underneath all the self-loathing and embarrassment. No matter what happens next, I should be proud of myself for trying, right? I should...

***

At the arrivals gate, I deselected the "airplane mode" to access the internet and put in Harry's hotel address. The second that my phone caught signal again, my notifications were blowing up. It took me a minute to get over the vibrations and buzzing, and when the flood had died down, I look at my screen, blinking intensely.

Harry Styles, 12 Messages

Harry Styles, 16 Missed Calls

Harry Styles, Voicemail

Holy shit! What had I done? I worried that he'd been trying to reach me to let me know how much he hates me; how he's glad I never ended up coming out to see him after all. What if this whole thing was a mistake?

My brain froze. I hastily scrolled through his messages, too paralyzed by anxiety to process the words on the screen. Vaguely, I caught sight of "Apologize" "Just missed you" and "worried you hate me" across all 16 messages.

jumping in the cab, I relished in his voice messages and listened to them repeatedly it with a stupidly wide grin blasted on my face the whole time.

"Please don't ignore my messages. It's one thing to do that when we're within driving distance and I can just bang on your door and call your bluff, but I kind of hate when I can't do anything about it now."

"I'm really worried, and I know it's manipulative of me to say this, but, I really don't want to go onstage knowing that you're mad at me."

"okay, I'm starting to think that you do want to upset me. Don't be like this. I just missed you. Can ya blame me? The show was hell in case you care to know. I mean, I couldn't not sing Matilda now, could I? You know what I thought about the entire time I was singing it, though? Remember the one time you decided we should go to your place instead of mine, after filming? You made us dinner and I fucked you against the couch? left a nice bruise on your neck. Some of my best work, I must say. Have you been with anyone...you know, since... It's not like you can't be. Why stay celibate. I'm not your boyfriend or anything. I could be. But you don't want that, so... anyway, they're knocking on my door. Bye."

What a giant idiot.

*

It was a little past midnight by the time that my cab pulled up to the lobby of the hotel Harry and his band were staying in. I gave the receptionist the fake name he usually uses for reservations like this and they eyed me from head to toe a few times before finally confessing his room number. It was a large penthouse-sized space on their top floor. No doubt booked specifically with all his gear, luggage, and concert items in mind. During the elevator ride to the summit, it occurred to me that he might have brought someone back with him for the night. Or maybe gone out. He'd told me some stories, from the beginning of his performing career, when he'd go to afterparties, and after-afterparties and pick up women and smoke and drink and do things that I could only imagine. But, he's also told me that he has since turned in the opposite direction, opting instead, for a very structured routine on tour. He'd found that performing the very next day with a raging hangover and on very little sleep made his stage presence shaky and lackluster, and he felt it was his responsibility to always give every performance his full capacity. So, it was very likely that he'd be getting ready to go to sleep soon, but what if tonight is the exception? what if he'd decided, on a whim, to go back to his old ways, just this once?

how would I feel if I were to find his lips attached to someone else's neck right now? And before I could wait around to make up my mind about it, I found myself knocking on Harry's door.

the door creaked open, and, I could swear I saw the wheels turning in his head.

"If you must know, no. I haven't been with anyone else since being with you. Not that it's any of your business."

He went from barely looking at me through droopy eyes, clutching the middle of his bathrobe, trying to keep his chest covered to looking as if he'd seen a ghost, to grabbing the cross on his necklace, kissing it, and looking up at the ceiling.

"Thank you Jesus. God, thank you, thank you!!"

I frowned. "I didn't know you were religiou- ahhhh"

He grabbed me by my shirt collar, dragging me into the room and shutting the door behind us.

"Aren't you gonna- ask- why I'm here..." I attempted to remain cool and collected as Harry busied himself with separating me from my luggage, shoving me up against the wall and kissing everywhere his lips landed.

"Don't care" he whispered in between leaving a trail of kissing down the side of my jaw and neck. "Just care that you're here."

"H-harry, wait. I just got off a plane, there's like airplane germs all over me." I swallowed my giggles, feeling tickled by the stubble he appears to be growing.

Harry used, looking up at me through his lashes.

"Fine" He relented, his arms still around my waist, squeezing gently, as if to verify that I was really here. "You can take a shower. There's a very nice bathroom here."

"That'd be nice." I leaned in, kissing his cheek, and enjoying the blush it caused.

Harry's fingers danced down my body and took hold of my hand. "Let me give you a little tour."

"Ooo fancy!" I scanned his residence enviously, until my eyes landed on his massive, and unmade bed. "You were sleeping?"

"Not exactly....was about to. But that doesn't matter now. Cuz I've got company!" he turned around to face me, his hands cradling my face, his sparkling green eyes looking directly into mine. "are you really here or is this the dream I'm having after going to bed thinkin' about you and worrying that I haven't heard from you? Is my subconscious just makin' this up? if so, I don't ever wanna wake up."

My heart melted in my chest. I didn't know what to say, so I simply kissed his lips, causing his eyes to flutter shut and his feet to momentarily lose balance before he held onto me to steady himself.

"Ca-can I...join you in the shower?" he asked, looking down at his feet.

"Seriously, Harry? shower sex? do you know how impractical that is?"

"N-no! not shower sex." He looked at me, briefly, before sheepishly looking down at the floor again, his arms finding their place around my waist. "N-not that I don't wanna fuck you. Just-- uhh...I just wanna hold you. If that's okay? You can say no! I can just wait."

I was glad Harry wasn't looking at me because I'm sure my face would've given me away instantly. I grabbed onto the sleeve of his robe, leading him to the bathroom. "Fine. You can come." I could feel his excited gaze on the back of my head.

***

"Food'll be here in 40 minutes." Harry placed the hotel phone back in its place.

I nodded, my eyes on the tv.

"So..." He stood by the side on the bed, towering over my scarcely covered body. My hair was still damp and he insisted I wear his t shirt even though I'd packed my own pajamas. "How long are you here for?" he spoke as he crawled onto the bed, situating himself squarely in between my legs.

"just- for the- uhh- the \ weekend" I stuttered as Harry's hands slipped under the fabric of my clothes and found my breasts, his thumb and index fingers lightly running over my nipples.

"Mustn't waste time, then" he kissed a line of wet, open mouth kisses from my belly button, reaching the band of my underwear. "May I?"

"Yes. God, yes." My breath quickened. Harry's soft voice asking for permission always got me even when we were sleeping together every other night. Tonight, it downright melted me. "P-please." I mewled, instantly embarrassed.

"Eager, are we?" the grin was obvious in his voice.

"Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

My heart fluttered in my chest, skipping a beat. "Yes, sir." I corrected.

"hmm.." Satisfied, Harry hooked his fingers through the band of my underwear, slowly, teasingly, dragging it down my legs. "That's my good girl."

[miss-kittyy]

Rewriting Briarlight and Longtail’s Deaths

So I am disabled, like very disabled, I am %50 of the teenagers ever diagnosed with my special combination of pain disorders, and I also unfortunately hyper fixated on warrior cats, which is bad news for me because warrior cats is super ableist, and to add insult to injury, the fandom can also be pretty ableist.

My biggest problem with the majority of “anti-ableist” AUs is that they “fix” the ableism stemming from the narrative and able bodied characters by making the disabled character less disabled, this so bad for many reasons. I’ve talked more about in other posts. The justification that real life disabled cats are less doesn’t make it not ableist, since when was warrior cats meant to be realistic? If you’re making an au where the disabled cats function like actual disabled cats you also have to make all the cats genetically accurate, and retcon Lionblaze lifting a tree.

My problem with warrior cats is not that the disabled characters cannot become full conventional warriors, I’d like it if they got to choose what duties the perform instead of being crammed into the medicine den, but I don’t care about Cinderpelt not being able to complete a marathon. Most of the fandom seems to think the issue is that the disabled character are not useful enough, instead of the way that able bodied characters deny of them agency and make remarks like “you wouldn’t want to return to a life like her’s would you?”. Disabled people do not need to be “useful” to be worthy and empowering.

It’s very obvious that most of the fandom just wants the disabled cats to be more palatable to abled bodied people, so I’ve decided to make my own rewrite instead to hopefully make myself feel better. A lot of these things are inspired by my own experiences and not every disabled person is looking for the same things in representation, this is totally self indulgent.

The goal of this AU is to highlight the many unique and valuable aspects disability and how being disabled does not infringe upon anyone’s worth, ever.

- Longtail doesn’t die in the storm, Briarpaw is still injured, but he’s found besides her, trying his best to help her cling to life.

- after Briarpaw begins to recover he stands up to Millie and other cats insulting her quality of life, he says her journey will be hard, but it is one worth taking.

- She asks him why he’s an elder, and he decides to request to have his warrior ship restored as Briarpaw is dreading the life of an elder.

- On his first patrol the cats accompanying him insist on speaking to him in an incredibly infantilism tone, and whispering amongst themselves over what he can or can’t do, without consulting him,

- He initially gives up on patrolling after that insufferable experience.

- Briarlight begins to create marks and blobs on the wall of the medicine den using crushed up dead herbs she asks him to retrieve some berries for her, and he complies.

- Jayfeather shows him how he navigates the territory with the help of some of the sighted cats, and Mousefur is quick to volunteer as his guide. He finds her company surprisingly empowering. He realizes that it was not his blindness which was limiting his abilities, but the other cats attitudes.

- Mousefur and Longtail return with mouthful of berries and herbs, Briarlight describes to him what she’s drawing on the side of the den and he helps he mound the materials into paint.

- The cats begin to pop into the medicine den to see Briarlights painting and soon Jayfeather has to kick her out occasionally so they’d stop crowding him, she’s given the walls of camp to decorate instead.

- She begins to illustrate Longtails stories of the old territory and Bloodclan, and this new form of storytelling becomes a tradition amongst Thunderclan.

- because more young cats are aware of the clans history it becomes harder for the dark forest to recruit them, unfortunately, Blossomfall’s resentment towards her sister means she never cared to listen.

- Ivypool is still recruited and trained like in canon, given her relationship with the dark forest was much more emotionally charged and manipulative than just plain lies.

- at a gathering Longtail meets Grasspelt who inquires about Briarlight, Longtail is surprised about how little he knows as the she-cat had mentioned how well they got along as apprentices. Despite Millie nagging him not to tell him the truth about her daughter he does anyways, but puts much more emphasis on how well she’s doing than Millie expected. Grasspelt thinks this sounds really cool and decides that he is going to see her and her paintings, and that nobody can stop him. Longtail makes sure to put any opposing cat in their place, but Briarlight is a very respected Clanmate, so most warriors don’t say anything.

- Briarlight is nervous and doesn’t want to come out of the medicine den at first, but when Grassheart darts into the den holding berries and flowers for her to paint with she quickly warms up to her visitor.

- Grassheart is happy to tell Briarlight that he’s never been able to be a “functioning” warrior, and that he has always imagined that his spirit is shaped different, the medicine cat says his body is normal, but he’s never been able to keep focus in a fight or react as quickly as he should be able to while hunting. (He’s autistic because I say so)

- As dusk nears he’s visually hesitant to return to Riverclan and when Longtail inquires on why he says that he hasn’t felt so “here” for a long time. On the way back he wanders off and comes back with a chipmunk, when returning to Riverclan territory his father, Mintfur, is shocked to see his catch. After talking with his family a bit he realizes that it was the noise from the river that was making him so tense and dissociated, Brackenfur, who was escorting him, notices that he keeps rubbing himself on the ground and wincing.

- For the next couple moons Grasspelt returned to Thunderclan to bring Briarlight plants that only grow in Riverclan territory, he begins trying to fish from the quite lazy stream in their territory and soon both him and Briarlight have got it down.

- Longtail notices the sadness present whenever Grasspelt left and exclaims that it’s rather stupid that he’s living somewhere so unsuited for him just because of words long repeated.

- Grasspelt confesses that he feels the same, but knew he wasn’t supposed to say anything. Briarlight tells Longtail that her and the Riverclan warrior had been thinking of each other as mates for moons.

- Longtail accompanies Jayfeather to the next half moon meeting where he proposes his addition to the warrior code, “no cat should be confined to laws which harm them due to an inherent physical or spiritual difference.” (Cats don’t really know how brains work, so they see mental disabilities as a difference within a cats spirit)

- A moon later the leaders meet to discuss this proposition, it is accepted and Grasspelt makes the journey to Thunderclan for the final time.

- Grasspelt is renamed Grassspirit when becoming a Thunderclan warrior, unlike prior renaming of disabled cats this is a celebration.

- Grassspirit spends most of his time taking care of the elders and kits, he’s incredibly compassionate especially with kits and is able to solve many problems within the nursery.

- When twigkit and Violetkit arrive in Thunderclan Briarlight and Grassspirit help raise them, after Violetkit is taken Briarlight and Twigkit paint her on the side of Thunderclan camp.

- Briarlight still gets sick and her illness progresses without any treatment, Grassspirit notices her trying to hide it and when Longtail finds out he’s very upset. Jayfeather frantically treats her, expressing his frustration that she didn’t tell them sooner, the second Millie steps out she breaks down and explains that she just wanted to deal with it herself, and perhaps if she were successful Millie would finally treat her like an adult.

- Longtail gives Millie a stern talking to, he tells her that Briarlight is a warrior of Thunderclan and as her clanmate she should show her some respect.

- Millie is inherently very reactionary, as she had not realized the full extent of her suffocation, but eventually after a couple moons her and Briarlight begin to rekindle their relationship, like adults.

- Blossomfall sees how Brairlight wasn’t basking in their mother’s attention like she imagined, and feels the urge to seek out an actual sisterhood after ignoring Briarlight for moons and moons.

- Briarlight isn’t really mad at her sister, and understands why she felt the way she did. Jayfeather suggests that Blossomfall help Briarlight with her painting, Blossomfall seems put off with the suggestion of being her sister’s assistant.

- The interactions that follow are less than ideal, Blossomfall commends Briarlight’s able friends (Thornclaw, Poppyfrost, Alderheart, etc) for being so nice to her, as if that’s not what friends do. She seems very sad the entire time, sighing when her sister dragged her legs around with her mouth to sit more comfortably, even though she was completely fine. When watching her paint she comments that it’s good she has “something to keep her busy”, and finally she expresses her view, of Briarlight’s injury and her (Blossomfall’s) suffering being all worth it because of her talents, as if her life was not worth living to begin with.

- Briarlight tells her that if that’s truly what she wants she’s going to have to put more effort into understanding and respecting her way of life, and that she won’t apologize for their mother’s actions.

- When Blossomfall has her kits they take a liking to Auntie Briarlight, and Blossomfall seems to have reflected on their past interactions, trusting her sister to watch her kits. Briarlight teases a bit, a subtle way of telling her not to rush things, but they do begin to feel like something close to sisters.

- Right before Briarlight’s Nieces and Nephews are made warriors Longtail dies of Greencough. Throughout the entirety of his sickness he kept his sense of humour, his mean streak, and his immense love for what he had made of his clan.

- At his vigil Grassspirit began whaling like a bird in new-leaf, he insists that the vigil is too sad, and that Longtail wouldn’t want everyone moping around, for Starclan’s sake, his life was good. Standing amongst them, Longtail’s spirit can feel every cat in Thunderclan standing around him, singing the song of a life well lived.

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hello! This is kind of a long request and well- Hopefully you’re fine with doing temporary Body Swap. :>

So basically Bakugou and his Male S/O are pro heroes and when out on a mission, they both get hit by a villain who has a swap quirk. Basically, they just swapped bodies. (Y/n is in Bakugou’s body and Bakugou is in Y/n’s body, they basically just switched minds.) They are told by the other pro heroes that the two should go home and take the day off. Unfortunately, nobody knows how long the quirk effect will stay, but they were convinced it was only temporary. So the two go back to their shared apartment and the day goes on pretty normal- besides the fact that, you know, they’ve swapped bodies. Though later Y/n gets a bit of an idea. What if he were to f*ck Bakugou in this body? The thought seemed kinda strange at first since he would literally be f*cking his own body, but he couldn’t deny that the thought was turning him on. Especially wanting to see Bakugou’s reaction. So, he basically handcuffs Bakugou to prevent him from struggling and.. while in the middle of doing it, something happens.. Shit! Why did it have to happen now?? Y/n panics in his head as he realizes they just swapped bodies again, and he is now at the mercy of Bakugou Katsuki himself..

I actually sent a request kinda similar to this to someone else but it was a while ago and they haven’t responded so they may not have liked it, or it just didn’t arrive. And sorry for choosing Bakugou again, you just may be able to figure out who my favorite character is.. Sorry for my rambling.

If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine. Anyways, have a good day/night, man!

in his shoes (nsfw) bakugou x reader

pronouns: he/him

warnings: body swapping during sex, bottom and top reader+bakugou, selfcest (?), degrading, bratty behavior, claimming and possesive themes, bondage (handcuffs)

a/n: i really like this concept and i will write it don't worry 😎👍 i usually write all of my requests anyways. im also sorry this took literally 5 years.

_____

katsuki bakugou and y/n bakugou. the two of you have been married for 2 years now after you guys started working as heroes. you both went to UA and graduated at the top of the class. neither of you had time for love or romance resulting in neither of you confessing you feelings for each other. gladly, things managed to work out in the end.

"he's on it again, i need the bakugous here right now."

hearing the police force requesting your assistance, you and your husband show up on the case. it turned out to be the villain that the two of you couldn't capture the last time during patrol. 

"HEH?! look y/n, it's this motherfucker again. what's up with this loser, coming back every time it's annoying." 

"play nice now katsuki, let's just go and restrain him and let the police take care of the rest."

the two of you move quickly to match the villain's rapid movements. katsuki flew around using his quirk to attempt to catch him but failed. the villain was surprisingly agile and you guys had a tough time trying to chase him down. 

after around half an hour of chasing you finally cornered the villain on top of a tall building in the middle of the city that was still in construction. the ground was hard to walk on and somewhat unstable but you managed to find your balance. 

"alright, give it up, you've got nowhere to run now. 

"what he said, stop resisting and i won't blow your face off."

the villain's expression turned to fear as you started to close up on him. out of panic, he used his quirk. it was a small beam that didn't hurt at all. however, after a few seconds your body started to heat up, you looked over to katsuki and you could tell he was feeling the same. what was happening?

seeing the two of you struggling, the villain quickly left the scene but he had trouble moving around due to his surroundings. his movements were also somewhat impaired due to fatigue. it was most likely the aftereffect of his quirk which was why he was pretty reluctant in using it. 

the strange feeling in your chest wouldn't go away and your vision started to blur. next thing you know you woke up on top of the same building to see yourself lying next to you. was his quirk duplication? no it couldn't have been. you tried to stand up but felt the weight of some heavy armor dragging you down. you look down to see yourself wearing katsuki's hero costume and his gauntlet. still in awe, you heard a groan in your own voice next to you. 

"shit… wtf happened, y/n where are you where-" 

it didn't take long for your husband to find out what happened. 

the two of you have switched bodies.

you both tried to explain to the police who's who but it only ended in confusion. you went home with your husband after they put the two of you on break for "damaged mental" from the villain because the majority of the police thought you guys were crazy. 

there weren't any cases similar to body switching between heros before so the doctor said there's nothing that can be done other than attempting to wait off the effect. so there you were, in your husband's body, cooking dinner for the man while you saw your own body lazily sitting on the couch with your legs spread open watching the tv. 

life went as normal for the next two days, since you two were both males there weren't any problems whatsoever. however, one day a thought flew into your mind while taking a nap with katsuki. since he was the one who would usually top, now that you're in his body wouldn't it technically mean you get to top? 

physically you would be using your boyfriend's body to fuck yourself. but the thought of the all mighty bakugou katsuki taking his own dick, his bratty attitude, and lastly breaking him and making him fall apart by your touch aroused you in an indescribable way. you knew katsuki wouldn't agree to this due to his prideful personality so you had to take other measures to carry out your plan. 

you and kastuki had all sorts of toys laying around and you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine with them. while he wasn't looking you grabbed the vibrator, handcuffs, and blindfolds and put them all on the nightstand. now that everything is in place, all you have to do is wait to catch katsuki off guard tonight when he gets tired.

later tonight, after finishing dinner, katsuki was yet again sitting casually again on the couch watching tv, not giving a single care to the world. 

"heyy katsuki!"

"hm? yah?" 

"come with me for a second? i want to show you something!" you said with a sly grin on your face

katsuki didn't care enough to talk back, neither did he think this could lead to the ill intentions you had with him tonight. following you into the bedroom, you gestured katsuki to sit down on the bed. he obeyed although he began to have a suspicion of what you're about to do. using your new body, you abused katsuki's strong muscle and speed to restrain your own body with the handcuffs you prepare. there was no way for katuski to fight back in this situation because your body was simply not built enough to resist his. 

"h-huh? what are you doing dumbass…if you're joking s-stop it now, it's not funny." 

"oh i am very serious katsuki, now that i'm inside your body. i am going to fuck your brains out. i'm gonna thrust that bratty attitude of yours right out the window." 

hearing you say that, your husband looked away to avert his eyes while you heard a small gulp coming from his throat. you could tell he was nervous and that's exactly what you wanted. katsuki has never bottomed in his life before and he does plan on doing so either. 

finally having katsuki in your grasp, you decided to carry on with your plan. you put on the blindfold for him as he jolted in surprise. katsuki tried to get out of the handcuffs but later found his attempt futile. these were the toys he used for you too and he out of everyone should know it's impossible to get out of them. once your husband stopped moving you gentlt took off his pants, leaving him exposed wearing only your boxers with an erection under it.

"aww katsuki~ already hard and i haven't even done anything yet, maybe you're better off being the bottom hm?" you teased 

"s-shut up you shit head, just get on with it, whatever evil plan you have in store for tonight…"

"no need to rush katsuki" you said as you entered his asshole with 2 of your fingers, loosening him up for the vibrator. 

"we have the entire night."

you heard your own voice whimper as you explored more with your fingers. soon enough it was time to put the other toy in. your fingers left for a bit preparing the vibrator, leaving bakugou panting from the pleasure and clenching his hole around well, nothing. you turned on the vibrator and katsuki immediately noticed the familiar sound of what's in your hands. 

"o-oi y/n, don't put it in here, i-i won't be able to take it." 

"oh i'm sure you can~ you made me do it plenty of times, why can't the big and strong bakugou katsuki do it?"

without mercy, you put in the vibrator quickly and let the show play out. katsuki was moaning and groaning while you stroked your own cock enjoying the view. katuski's cock was bigger than yours and you weren't used to jacking off such a big dick but it was a nice first.

seeing a wet spot forming on katsuki's underwear, you knew he was ready to go. you took off katsuki's underwear to see the precum leaking from it, so much it looked like he was about to cum any second now. next, you took out the vibrator and started to spread some lube on your cock. you positioned yourself on top of the katsuki and teased his pink hole with your huge cock. 

"what do good boys say katsuki~?" 

"tch! i'm not saying it, y-you sadistic fuck."

you slapped katsuki's ass so loud that the neighbors probably could've heard you.

"i'm the one in control right now, you listen to what i say, understood?"

"f-fine, jesus christ! p-please y/n, put it inside me…" 

"that's a good boy…" 

after you fit ¾ of your cock in katsuki was already panting heavily trying to catch his breath. it reached his prostate you leaned down on his chest to bite on his nipples to make him feel even better. his hole clenched on your hole so tight you were barely able to move your cock around. you continued to make thrusts and sped them up each time. 

during your thrusts you suddenly felt the weird feeling when fighting the villain again. both you and bakugou's body started to burn up but it wasn't as painful as it was last time. next thing you know everything was pitch black. you felt a piece of black cloth on top of your eyes and a familiar size inside your ass. it didn't take you long to realize that you and bakugou finally switched back. 

you were glad to be back in your own body but why did it have to happen now?! out of all the times it could've happened this was no doubt the worst possible timing. you just teased the crap out of bakugou and now that he's in control again he can take his revenge right here, right now.

"oh? would you look at that…our bodies switched back…" you couldn't see katsuki say this but you could already tell the evil smile on his face. 

"k-katsuki i'm sorry, i didn't mean to tease you that hard i was just trying to have some fun y-y'know." you desperately tried to explain. 

"too late now baby boy… bad boys get punished for what they did. now… get ready, for the night of your fucking life." 

regret, nothing but regret. bakugou was already an aggressive person when it comes to sex, now that you pissed him off even more you weren't prepared for what he was about to do to you. 

without warning, katsuki pulled back his hips and thrusted into you harder than ever. you took his entire length right away and the full feeling in your ass was too overwhelming for you to handle. you started to blabber nonsense, unable to form words due to the pleasure. 

"c'mon baby… gotta speak up if you want me to understand you." bakugou said knowing damn well you can't talk back. 

incoherent moans and groans escaped from your mouth as you felt dry orgasms again and again from katsuki reaching your prostate. you were on the verge of passing out till you saw your husband's panting just as hard as you. you could tell he was very close as well. you tried your best to stay conscious and cum with your husbands. 

katsuki let out a loud moan as he cummed inside you. you reached your orgasm too cumming all over yourself. katsuki licked up the cum on your stomach as you slipped into sweet unconsciousness. he gave you a warm smile and patted your head as he took you into his arms and fell asleep with you. 

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #16

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]

[AO3]

~POV Sinbad~ Mori wasn't just a Prophet, she had immense knowledge of her own that was going to make Sindria untouchable. Sinbad was going to achieve his dream much sooner than he had ever imagined. Mori was special; intelligent, clever, capable, and she could read the waves of Fate. Was there any other woman as attractive? The unknown craving that had plagued him for the past week was placated. Delicious wine, beautiful women, delicious food -none of his normal pleasures had fulfilled whatever that feeling was, but for some reason this moment with the his Beautiful Prophet was. "And now you're *my* kind and generous King Sinbad, ... Right?" Mori's bashful confidence was always endearing, but hearing her call him 'my King' in person made something snap in him. They were in a corner and Mori is small; he could easily block view of her in case any of the magicians turned around. He wouldn't even have to lean that far to get a taste of her. "DO EITHER OF YOU Have an ounce of self awareness??” Ja'far popped the bubble that had formed around the two.

King Sinbad froze. Everyone in the room was watching them. Sinbad stood up straight. He shouldn't exactly continue his plans with an audience. He removed his hand from the window and crossed his arms. Yam was practically shaking the magician next to her. "I wasn't the only one to see it this time!” An older magician with a beard laughed and said something like 'to be young.' Another said something a long the lines of "So it's like that then." Ja'far was still grumbling about his King's behavior -he should know better by now, he promised he wouldn't, etc. but 1. Sinbad didn't do anything wrong, and 2. he said he knew what he was doing -he knew how to handle flirting with Mori; he never said anything about not flirting with her. "And you, Lady Prophet," Ja'far changed targets. 'Oh?' Sinbad didn't expect Mori to be reprimanded for his flirting -although, she did flirt back. Ja'far continued, "You said that you knew about Sin's habits so wouldn't fall for him or-" "AAAAAH" Yamuraiha yelled over the other General as she crossed the room as fast as she could, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She turned to the King and Prophet with wide eyes and a forced smile. "Your Majesty! Mori! Would you like to see the spell again with our new changes?!" She didn't let go of Ja'far. The group of magicians started supporting her suggestion with "Let us show you," "I'm sure we've got it this time," and reciting the changes to the formula. They were clearly trying to stop Ja'far from discouraging Mori. Sinbad had no idea why they suddenly decided to become his wingmen, but it was convenient for him since he planed to do more than flirt with her later. Mori walked up to the Generals, although she only addressed Yamuriaha. "Yes, please! Even if it's not perfect I'd like to see your progress!" She spoke with the same forced enthusiasm as Yam. Sinbad only got a glimpse before Mori's back was to him, but her face was definitely a brighter red than it had been a moment ago. She was getting better at flirting with him, but she couldn't hold her composure for long. The King laughed as the head magician practically body checked Ja'far out of her way and left him out of the group before they preformed the newly revised spell. This time it produced a mostly clear stone. It wasn't a high quality diamond, but they had done it. They would have to be careful with this though since it could lower the market value of whatever they make. As they figured out the specifics for every substance they needed, Sindria could become fully self sufficient -they would still deal in trade so as to not completely leave the rest of the world behind. It was amazing. His magicians were amazing for being able to figure this out in such a short time, and his Prophet was just as -if not even more- amazing for knowing all of this and being able to explain it to them. When the excitement around the magic spell died down they finally showed him the microscope. It was a prototype so they had to be gentle with it. Two pieces of glass with water squished between them were slid under and when Sinbad looked through the lenses he saw the strange small creatures that Mori had written about. Seeing them forced him to accept that what Mori wrote about 'germs' had to be true too -and those were even smaller than these things. Looking at those things squirming around and knowing they were everywhere made his skin crawl. The King stopped looking through the device. "They really are real." "Yup." Mori responded plainly. "And now that you all know and have proof. There's going to have to be a lot of changes. The way illnesses are handled is obvious, but there's going to have to be a lot more changes to how food and housing and things are handle to better maintain sanitary environments. I know a bunch of sanitation procedures so I can help there too." Ja'far was rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a logistical nightmare. Do you realize that we are going to have to fix all those things and get all Sindrians to understand without having it affect our production or

trade??" "It's not like we're doing this alone." Mori tried to comfort him. "We'll figure something out." The conversation moved to this new problem. His Beautiful Prophet really was something else. She had solutions to problems they didn't even know they had. Mori had a habit of using her hands whenever she talked -even more when she was excited. She was cute and deserved to know, but she was in the middle of helping his people so he would hold his tongue and just watch her. If Sinbad was honest, he had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago and was just looking for an opportunity to finally ask Mori -and Yam of course- if they would join him for dinner so he could get all of his Generals more aquatinted with her. Someone mentioned a specific scroll in one of the libraries. Before the whole group could drag Mori out of the room, King Sinbad raised a hand and got everyone's attention. "I know there's a lot to do, but I have some things to discuss with my Beautiful Prophet as well." Mori looked back at him. "What is it?” It seemed that nickname wasn't as affective as before -hopefully it was just the timing. "Is it something we can talk about here?” "I was thinking we could talk over dinner," Sinbad paused to see how she would respond to the implications. Mori's eyes widened and her shoulders tensed, and best of all that blush came back. "With all of my Generals, of course." Mori blushed harder realizing he was messing with her. Yam looked disappointed at first -his Generals cared way to much about him finding a wife- but then she looked content with being a part of the plan. "You might have met them, and know them from reading Fate but they still don't know you yet." He finished. Yam spoke first. "This is a great idea. Pisti was just telling me that she wanted to get to know Mori." Mori regained her composer. "I'd like to get to know everyone personally too, so I'm find with this." It was a roundabout way of saying 'yes.' Her blush was gone but she was still embarrassed. With that settled, Ja'far let Yam and Mori know when dinner would be ready. It was a little earlier than he normally ate but this would give them more time to mingle before they'd be completely out of sunlight. "Well then," the King turned to his Prophet, "since we have some time beforehand-" "OH no you don't!" Ja'far cut in. "You've already had a long enough break *and* you plan on ending early today? The least you can do is work your butt off until then." --- ~POV Mori~ The King was pushed out of the room by his right hand man. I had a mix of relief and longing watching him go. "You'll see his Majesty again soon." Yam had a sweet smile on her face, but I knew better than to trust it. All eyes were on me and they were no longer the eyes of academics; they were hungry for gossip. I was not ready to explain why shipping us was a bad idea. "So about that scroll you mentioned earlier..." I completely shifted conversation back to the eventual rebuilding effort and luckily one of them obliged me.

I was lead to one of the libraries and handed a few scrolls on the construction used in the country. I had read a little on ancient construction methods out of interest and some on modern methods since my uncle worked in the industry. I had a little bit of experience with construction when I worked at a community theater, but it wouldn't be anything the people here wouldn't know. That paired with these documents showing how magic was used in the process made what little I did know completely useless. 'Can't know everything I guess.' I turned my head up towards the ceiling. I wasn't sure how much time I had left and I decided to use it soaking up the ambience of the library. The smell of paper, the maze-esc layouts, the quiet feeling; it's like a gentle space separate from the rest of the world. The libraries of the Black Libra Tower also had huge windows to let in a ton of natural lighting. I was really going to enjoy working in this place. --- Yam and I ended up lost in conversation, so someone ended up being sent to bring us to the dinner. When we finally arrived and opened the doors to the dining hall my nose was filled with the smell of herbs and delicious food. This was my first meal that wasn't paired with bitter medicine. I might have been procrastinating subconsciously to avoid the medicine I was no longer taking. Everyone was already there chatting. The long table was covered with food, but I couldn't make out any of it from the door. King Sinbad was sitting at the head of the table at the other end of the room with a goblet in his hand. Yamuraiha started in ahead of me and called into the room. "I'm sorry we're so late! We were talking about magical proofs and," she rambled in her explanation. I heard a few comments of congrats for getting better and said "Thanks" reflexively more than consciously. As I got closer, I ignored the Generals at the table to look at the spread. There were a few different types of fish, meat of some kind, a bunch of vegetables, and bread. It brought tears to my eyes; It was so beautiful. The Imuchukk laughed at my obvious interest in the food. "What are you waiting for? There plenty for everyone." He was sitting closest to the door. I didn't look away from the food when I answered. "I'm small with a small stomach so I'm going to need to pace myself to be able to eat a little of everything. If I save the best for last like I normally do then I might not even get to eat it." That garnered laughs and comments. I ignored them; I was too busy weighing my options. As the guest of honor I was placed at the opposite end of the table from King Sinbad. Thank goodness, because I didn't think I could handle being super close to him all evening. Even with the direct line of sight, I had distance to protect me. Yam sat on the other side of Hina from me. Pisti was on my other side. Sharrkan was across from Yam. Spartos was between Yam and Ja'far. Drakon was across from Ja'far. And Masrur was between Drakon and Sharrkan.

I picked up my plate to get food. "Alright. I've decided to just grab my favorites. If I have room later then so be it!" I was used to being watched while I eat so their stares didn't bother me. I covered my plate in all of the types of fish and some vegetables. "I take it you like fish?" Sinbad asked while I was taking some of the fish that was on his end of the table. "It's my favorite!" I answered excitedly. I could tell as I placed the grilled fish on my plate that it was going to be heavenly. It was already flaking and letting the smell reach me faster. I couldn't wait to get back to my seat and took a bite of the fish. It melted in my mouth. I let out a squeak of approval as I grabbed another bite. After a moment Sinbad asked me another question. "What do you think of greasy foods?" It felt pointed. "I'll eat it if it's the only option, but I'm not a fan." The Generals made some comments that amounted to, "They have the same taste." I was too busy enjoying my food to think about what they were saying. Pisti asked me her own pointed question as I sat down. "Do you like alcohol?" They were comparing me to Sinbad. I suddenly remembered the Official Character Encyclopedia. According to it, Sinbad's favorite food was fish, his least favorite was greasy, and his favorite snacks were the types that paired well with alcohol. "I'm not a big drinker, but it's not like I dislike alcohol. I'm just allergic to sulfites." "Huh?" The group asked in unison. Time to explain one of my allergies again. "Sulfites are a very useful preservative so it was also added to a lot of foods back home including alcohol. All grape wines produce sulfites naturally. When I ingest about 2 shots of a drink that contains sulfites I will struggle to breathe for about an hour." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the goblet of wine I didn't realize was in front of me was grabbed by Hinahoho. They all looked panicked at each other like they had just dodged a bullet. In an attempt to relieve the tension, Sinbad asked Yam to catch everyone up on the meeting from earlier. Yam started ranting about the progress we had made with the alchemy magic. While they focused on reclaiming the mood, I focused on the delicious food. I tried a root vegetable on my plate. It was a little earthy with a subtle sweetness. The seasoning added to the sweet, but also had a little spice similar to cracked pepper. It had been streamed so it wasn't crunchy. I was asked to repeated what I told Sin and Ja'far earlier about the tech of home, Their questions had me explain more about my world and many of the things I had done: volunteer work to get scholarships, marketing for some networking organizations and some other companies, an assistant and teacher in out of school programs for 6 years while also working at a theater to pay for my own education. I only mentioned some of the places I had traveled to. I didn't even get to the things I did as hobbies or in working toward my dream of being a full time writer&artist. "I'm surprised by how much you say you've done." Drakon commented. I had heard similar before when talking about my past. "Is it really that shocking? Considering my age, I think it makes sense for me to have done a bit." It's more shocking that I was doing all that while getting so sick from my chronic illnesses that I would be fully bedridden and need a machine to breathe at least once a year until I turned 15. But I had also ate up inspiration porn as a child as a motivation to not let my body hold me back if I could. "Aren't we around the same age?" Yam asked me in response. I laughed. "Do I look 23 to you?" I've been mistaken for much younger than I actually was for as long as I could remember. It 1st became a problem when I turned 18 and got told I was clearly 12 with a fake ID when trying to buy an M rate game (Devil May Cry btw). "You're not?” ”Nope.” I rested my elbows on the table, interlocked my fingers, and I placed my chin on top with a smile, "But I'm curious how old you all think I am now." At 25 I was mistaken for a 14

year old. At least, a few months back someone thought I was legal (they guessed 19). Most realized I had to be older the more they talked to me, but their impressions never fully dissipated. As frustrating as it was, I found amusement in times like this by turning my age into a guessing game. Sharkkan had the face of someone fearing they had hit on someone too young. "You are at least 20, right?” They all suddenly looked worried. "I'm definitely older than 20." I answered. Pisti laughed. She was also short with a baby face; she knew my struggle. "Maybe she's older than Ja'far!” Of course she would make the closest guess. "There's no way she's older than me." Ja'far scoffed. "I am older than 25 though.” I could have teased him but I held my tongue since he already seemed annoyed with me. "How old are you then?” Hina asked. "I'm 29.” I smiled at everyone's surprise. I might only have surface levels similarities to Sinbad, but when you're a simp for a fictional character does that really matter? "I was born on April 7th so I should only be 5 days younger than King Sinbad since he was born on the 2nd. However, I don't know if there's a time dilation between my world and this one. The day we met was Oct 3rd for me back home. It wasn't the same date here, was it?" Sinbad is 29, Ja'far is 25, and Masrur is 20 during the Balbadd arc; their 2nd set of ages are 30, 26, and 21 respectfully. Ja'far's birthday is Aug 30th and Masrur's is Dec 27. Those 2nd ages listed can't be for right after the 6 month time skip because no matter how you calculate it the shortest distance between those 3 birthdays is 8 months. I was really interested in how the current arbiter of this world was going to figure this out. "It was Oct 3rd here too." "Oh. Well, that's convenient," was what I said while my thoughts were cursing the arbiter. 'That lazy son of a bitch synced the worlds so they wouldn't have to deal with a time dilation. I can feel it. Hold on... I arrived on Oct 3rd; the coup was 4 days later on the 7th. 6 months later would mean Sinbad arrives back in Sindria on my birthday. Did some 'real me' somewhere plan a b-day present for myself in some self-indulgent fanfiction??' ((Yes. Yes, I did UwU & I plan on making Mori panic then too.)) King Sinbad had that smile on his face that told me he was ready to flirt. "I didn't realize we were so close in age." No colors got in my way when he talked. That was good. I was desensitized again, and wouldn't have to deal with unnecessary distractions. I couldn't tease Ja'far, but I could tease his Majesty. "I know, right? It's amazing what the difference of 5 days can do for one's complexion." Sinbad froze and his expression went blank. Something that was probably wine sprayed across the table as Sharkkan had a spit take before erupting into laughter with Hinahoho and Pisti. "Oh my" Yam murmured with a hand over her mouth. Drakon , Spartos, and Ja'far stared at me in disbelief. Sinbad still wasn't responding... Maybe teasing him about his age was a bad idea. So far, unless it was something important I flirted with Sinbad since that was the best way to get on his good side; hearing something like this from me must have hurt a bit extra. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I forgot just how sensitive he was about his age. I ended up flailing my hands from nerves, and to get his attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that when I know how self conscious you are." He flinched. "I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but you won't look any older than you do now 5 years from now..." "I uh.. Is that so?" Sinbad asked as he started to regain himself. "It is. You'll be just as-” "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" Ja'far cut in with a fierce look. He had been waiting for any mention of the future to bring this up. The King spoke with a gentle but stern tone. "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with

everyone after all." "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." I had been avoiding this conversation for long enough. There were things I still planned to keep secret, but I couldn't avoid having this conversation forever. And besides, I could feel in the waves that Ja'far wasn't going to let this night end unless I explained some of it. ((I have the next 3 chapters written but it's going to take me a bit to draw all of illustrations & comics. Also, good luck to all the students reading this. I know classes are starting up again. Be safe out there.))

[nerdierholler]

Wayhaven Frights Day 7: Isolation

Pairing: Ethan Langford/Adam du Mortain Rating: G Words: 1925 Warnings: none Ethan's been shut up alone inside his apartment dealing with the flu and Adam comes to check on him. It's flirty fluff, mostly on Ethan's part. Even sick he's absolutely incorrigible. Also you can read it on AO3 here.

Isolation

Fevers and chills had racked Ethan’s body for several days now. At the first sign he was feeling under the weather, the captain had ordered him out of the station, something Ethan resented in the moment but was grateful for by the time he’d collapsed into bed later. And in bed was where he’d stayed for most of the last 48 hours. It had taken him 10 minutes yesterday just to get the pot of soup Tina left on his doorstep and put it away. Afterwards he slept for 8 hours from just that small amount of exertion.

The buzzing sound of his phone grating against his nightstand woke Ethan up. He rolled over, grimacing as he peeled himself away from the sweat soaked sheets. If it was Douglas calling to check on him yet again he was going to strangle the kid as soon as he could hold his arms up for more than a few minutes. He looked at the caller ID. It was Adam.

“Hey,” Ethan croaked, the first word he’d spoken in days.

“You sound terrible.”

“I feel terrible.” He let the phone drop onto the side of his face, too tired to hold it up. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can I go back to sleep?”

“Agent Langford contacted me. She’s concerned about your illness and wanted to check in on you.”

“You checked, I’m still alive. Goodbye now.”

“In person.”

Ethan groaned. He was an adult, not a child, he didn’t need his mother trying to babysit him just because he had the flu.

“Since catching your illness isn’t a concern, I offered to stop by after my patrol.”

Normally, Ethan’s heart would be fluttering at the rare moment of concern from the usually stoic leader, but right now even the opportunity of having Adam alone in his apartment wasn’t enough to overpower Ethan’s desire for rest.

“Fine.” Even if he had the energy, he knew there’d be no point in arguing if both Adam and his mother had conspired against him. “But don’t expect me to get the door, just let yourself in and try to be quiet.”

In the brief silence that followed, Ethan could perfectly picture Adam about to protest against just waltzing into his apartment and somehow invading his privacy. “I’ll be there shortly,” he said finally.

“Okay.”

“Goodbye, detective.”

“Yeah,” Ethan mumbled. Rolling over, he let the phone slide off his face and onto the pillow. In a few moments he was asleep once again.

Several hours passed before Ethan opened his eyes. When he did, he could just make out the faint traces of sunset shining through the curtains. Adam must have come by while he was sleeping. At least he didn’t wake him up in the process. It felt like that last bit of sleep might have been what he needed to start turning the corner. At the very least it meant he woke up feeling well enough to make it as far as the kitchen for some water.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up, allowing a few moments to adjust to the change in position before attempting to stand. His knees didn’t immediately buckle, so that was a good start. He shuffled over to the door, holding onto the frame for support as he opened it. And on the other side was Adam, sitting on his couch with a book, green eyes darting up to look at him.

Ethan would be lying if the thought of standing in front of Adam, clad only in his boxers, hadn't crossed his mind before. This just wasn’t how he imagined it playing out. There was usually a lot more lead up to this point and a lot less body odor on his part. As it was, the most he could manage was a lopsided grin in apology for his current state of existence.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Don’t worry, I’m heading back shortly, just getting some water. Maybe food and a shower too, but let’s not get carried away just yet.”

Adam watched him closely as he made his way to the kitchen. Ethan had no doubt he was ready to jump up if he showed any sign of trouble. Briefly, he considered faking a stumble just to see what Adam would do but decided against it. There was too great a chance of his fake attempt becoming a real one.

Ethan filled a glass from the sink and drained it in one long gulp. Filling it again, he leaned back against the kitchen counter and closed his eyes, partially to avoid looking at Adam, but mostly because even the short walk across the apartment had made his head start to spin.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Adam’s voice was just a few feet away now. He must have gotten up after Ethan closed his eyes. “I’m fine.” There was a huff of disapproval from nearby. “Or I will be. It’s just the flu. A few more days of rest and I’ll be right as rain. Don’t worry about...” the last word hung on Ethan’s lips as he opened his eyes and found Adam standing right beside him, brow knotted with concern. Raising the glass to his lips, Ethan took another long drink.

“May I?” Adam asked as he lifted a hand towards Ethan’s face,

Ethan could only nod silently, not sure of what to expect next and half wondering if maybe this was all just part of some fevered dream. Adam placed his hand on Ethan’s forehead for a few moments, the touch making his whole body tingle. He made a mental note to hide the digital thermometer that was currently sitting on his nightstand.

“I don’t feel any fever but that doesn’t mean it won’t return. I think it would be best if you returned to bed as soon as possible.”

Part of Ethan wanted to immediately protest, an unfortunate side effect of having spent so much time with the vampire. In this instance however, there really wasn’t a reason for them to butt heads. It wasn’t like Ethan had been planning on going for a long evening stroll or something. “At the very least, I’m going to take a quick shower,” his stomach gurgled, “and maybe eat something, then it’s back to bed, I promise.”

That answer seemed to satisfy Adam and his face softened with relief, apparently not in the mood to fight either. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“In the shower?” Ethan raised an eyebrow, “I’m sure I could think of something.”

Adam folded his arms across his chest, “That was not what I meant.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ethan waved a hand dismissively as he made his way to the bathroom. Flirting with Adam when he was standing in his underwear was probably a bad idea anyway. “I’m fine. I’ll deal with my own messes in a few days, there’s nothing that can’t wait.” He turned back to Adam with a genuine smile, “Thanks for offering though.”

The hot water running over Ethan made him want to melt into the drain at his feet. If he had a list of top ten showers he’d ever taken, this would have been one of them. He didn’t have a list, but his mind quickly started to form one before he stopped himself. Adam was still in the other room and while some of those might be pleasant memories to revisit, now was not the time.

He stood there for longer than he’d intended as the aches in his body slowly dissolved until he felt blissfully limp and relaxed. He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist then opened the door. And immediately closed it. Right, Adam. Ethan looked down at the boxers in the hamper, he really didn’t want to put them back on, even for just a few minutes to get to his room. He cracked the door just wide enough for his face to peek through.

“Hey, Adam? Can you do me a favor?”

Adam eyed him cautiously, unsure of what kind of favor the detective might ask, “Yes?”

“Bring me some shorts. Middle drawer, any pair is fine.”

For the briefest of moments Adam’s face blushed with realization at the request and Ethan couldn’t help but wonder how much Adam enjoyed the mental image that must have just passed through his mind. He hoped it was quite a lot.

In half a minute, Adam returned, holding out a pair of shorts, which Ethan quickly grabbed and put on. Finally emerging from the bathroom, he looked between the kitchen and his bedroom. Despite how much he’d slept recently, floating back into bed seemed too irresistible given his relaxed state.

“Alright, I’m going back to bed, I’ll worry about food the next time I get up.”

Instead of seeming pleased with this announcement, Adam frowned instead. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“Umm,” Ethan ran his fingers through his wet hair in thought, “I think I had some crackers yesterday, maybe.”

Adam’s frown deepened, “Last time I checked, humans required regular meals.”

“I thought you wanted me in bed?”

“I do,” Ethan quirked an eyebrow at Adam’s words, causing him to pause and clear his throat. “That is, I think you need more rest in order to recover. If you want to lay down, I would be happy to bring you something.”

“If you insist.” Ethan started to head back to his room, “Tina brought some soup by the other day, it’s in the big green dish in the fridge, just put some in a smaller bowl-”

“I remember how to make soup,” Adam interrupted.

“Two and half minutes in the microwave should be enough. Do you know how to work the-”

“Yes, I know!”

Ethan chuckled to himself as he pulled back the duvet and slipped between the crisp sheets. This felt heavenly, hopefully he could stay awake long enough for Adam to bring him his soup.

Wait. Ethan rolled over and sniffed his pillow. These were clean sheets. Had Adam? While he was in the shower? Ethan closed his eyes with a happy sigh. As frustrating as it could be trying to figure Adam out, there was nothing in the world like those times when he showed how much he cared.

“Here, it’s hot,” Adam said, as he set the bowl down on the side table.

Ethan sat up and grabbed it, enjoying the feeling of warmth in his hands. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft and the smile that played on the corners of his lips didn’t escape Ethan’s notice.

“I really appreciate you coming by. I don’t think I realized how nice it would be to see someone again.” To see you again.

“It was no trouble, Ethan. I was glad to be of assistance.”

“Care to fill me in on what I’ve missed that last couple of days? Just while I finish this,” Ethan added, “then I’ll be a good boy and go back to sleep.”

The smile Adam had been trying to suppress finally broke through and he leaned against the dresser, telling Ethan about the latest news from the warehouse. Ethan wanted this to last, the comfortable conversation. He ate as slowly as possible and the last few spoonfuls were cold by the time he got to them. But try as he might, his body got the better of him and it wasn’t long after Adam carried the empty bowl away to the kitchen that Ethan was fast asleep once more.

[ibijau]

Nie Huaisang too has a list of requirements for his future spouse. This eventually comes to bite him in the ass in an unexpected way.

also on AO3

The first time Nie Huaisang hears someone say that he'll be hard to marry, he's eight. It's the first time he gets to accompany his father and brother to a conference, and while he's desperately trying to be good, he gets bored pretty quickly and disappears to explore a bit. Nightless City and the Wen's palace aren't fun places, and he's too worried about getting lost to go very far, but there's still a few interesting things to look at.

Not far from the main halls where the conference is happening, he almost stumbles upon two adults whom he recognises as friends of his father. Well, friends might be pushing it. But Father tries to be polite to them to their face, and that's not an effort he makes with everyone. So, Nie Huaisang counts them as his father's friends, and knows they have the power to scold him if they spot him somewhere he shouldn't be. As they approach, Nie Huaisang finds a curtain to hide behind, and waits. 

"And that second son of his is a disgrace," the man in red says as they pass by him. 'Wen Bastard', Father used to call him when chatting with mother, which always made her roll her eyes. "That's what happens when blood weakens." 

"Only a fool marries a woman like that," says the other one, 'that greasy Jin merchant'. "A dancer… That's just what you call a prostitute who can't live without making extra efforts. With a mother like that and how weak he's said to be, they'll never secure a match for that boy." 

"Qinghe Nie isn't what it used to be. And that saber of his…" 

Nie Huaisang doesn't hear the rest, because the men are already gone. He doesn’t want to hear more, anyway. Just that bit about his mother upsets him. It’s not news to him that his mother didn’t have the most respectable of lives before meeting his father, and he’s vaguely aware that some people looked down on their marriage for that, but hearing it put in such crude words hurts.

As he returns to his father’s side, Nie Huaisang slowly realises that those comments he overheard won’t leave his mind. He can’t say anything, though. Father gets too upset whenever something reminds him of mother. Nie Mingjue isn’t an option either, because he’s so hot-tempered, and even Nie Huaisang can tell that those words were pretty strong insults that the men would never have dared to say in public. It could lead to bad things if he were to repeat what he heard.

So Nie Huaisang remains silent until they all go to bed. They’ve been given a nice bedroom for their stay in Nightless City, but there was a misunderstanding and Nie Huaisang himself wasn’t expected to be there, so he doesn’t have his own bed. Nie Mingjue refuses to share his, because he’s too old for that apparently. Good. He kicks and steals the blankets, so Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have wanted to share either. Of course they could have asked for another bed to be brought to their room, but Father decided it would be too much of a bother. Instead, Nie Huaisang gets to sleep with him, which is nice. Father is always so warm at night, and doesn’t mind that he moves too much.

Cuddled against his father, safe and warm in the darkness of their room, Nie Huaisang would be perfectly happy if not for that conversation he heard earlier. It still nags at him. The thing against his mother is bad enough, but the other comment they made, the one about him… 

"Father, will I get married someday?" he asks when he figures that he can’t fall asleep without figuring that out.

His father huffs, an amused smile visible on his lips even in the low light. 

"You're too young for that!" Nie Mingjue grumbles from his bed. "I get to have someone first!" 

That remark gets a short laugh out of their father, which in turn makes Nie Huaisang giggle. Nie Mingjue is always complaining about this or that lately, which apparently is a normal side effect of being fifteen. 

"You can both get married if it pleases you," their father announces. "The order doesn’t matter much, either. You'll find someone. You're both handsome, clever boys, with the fame of our clan to make you seem even more handsome. And if you don't find it on your own, I'll try to find it for you." 

"I want a pretty girl," Nie Mingjue quickly says. "With a gentle personality, but who is still my equal in a fight, and…" 

Father groans. 

"It's too late for this, Mingjue. Make a list and give it to me later. You too, Huaisang, if it worries you so much." 

Nie Huaisang nods, relieved that this gives him time to think about the problem, and shuffles closer to his father. Sect leader Nie pulls him against his side, one arm wrapped over his son's shoulders in a protective gesture. It feels so safe to be like this, and Nie Huaisang soon falls asleep. 

In the morning, still bored at that conference, Nie Huaisang starts a list of what his future spouse ought to be. He decides, pretty quickly, that he'd rather marry a man. His own mother has just died with the baby she carried, and Nie Huaisang doesn't want to feel that pain again. 

So, it will be a man. He must be handsome, the most handsome in the world. Intelligent, too. And… he has to get along with Nie Mingjue, of course. 

He doesn't dare show the list to his father, feeling it is not yet complete, but it is nice to have it. 

-

Some weeks later, Father's sabre breaks during a hunt. 

The months that follow are rough. 

Nie Huaisang adds 'kind' and 'patient' and 'just' to his list. 

Nie Mingjue says, several times, that he shouldn't judge their father based on those last few months, because he was unwell and that's not who he really was. He’s right of course, because until then Father has always been good to both of them and to everyone around. He just got sick. So sick he died. 

Nie Huaisang also adds 'calm mind' to the list, just in case. 

-

If things were rough while Father was ill, they become worse after he dies.

For one thing, Nie Mingjue gets very busy. Of course he’d started getting more responsibilities in the sect since forming his golden core, and again during Father’s sickness, but now Nie Huaisang hardly ever sees him except at meals or during training, when Nie Mingjue mostly shouts at him for not doing better.

It’s funny. Nie Mingjue never used to care too much that Nie Huaisang can barely hold his sabre, but suddenly it’s absolutely essential that he becomes as tough as everyone else in the sect and that his cultivation improves.

At least Nie Mingjue does that because he’s worried. Nie Huaisang knows his brother enough to see that. But the rest, the elders, pick on him over everything just because they don’t like him. It comes as a shock to realise that, but his father’s cousins and uncles hate that their former sect leader had married a dancer, that he’d disgraced the clan like that. They never dared to say anything while Father was alive because he wouldn’t have allowed it, but Father isn’t there anymore, and Nie Mingjue is too busy to notice.

When Nie Huaisang tries to complain to his brother that the elders are mean to him, Nie Mingjue tells him to work harder to prove them wrong, like he’s doing whenever someone says he’s too young to lead their sect. It sounds like good advice, but Nie Huaisang’s efforts bring no results with regard to his cultivation or to the elders' opinion of him, so he just ends up giving up.

Meanwhile, his list gets a little longer. Now his future husband must love him (he never thought of that until one day he had a bad argument with his brother and wondered if anyone cared for him at all). He must also be accepting of Nie Huaisang’s weaknesses, and value his strength, whatever they are. Hopefully, this perfect husband will help him find them. He must also be honest, because Nie Huaisang still hurts from the fact that all his uncles have just lied for years about liking him and his mother. And it won’t hurt if he is skilled in all the arts, and if he has great cultivation and even greater fighting skills, so that nobody ever dares to pick on Nie Huaisang again.

-

It was planned to send Nie Huaisang to study in the Cloud Recesses at the same time as all the other young masters of the Great Sects, but something happens with the Wens, and Nie Mingjue hurriedly decides to send him there one year early.

It’s not the worst.

Sure the food is bad, the lessons are tedious, and Lan Qiren is a horrible teacher… but the scenery is nice, and most people don’t really pay attention to Nie Huaisang, which is a nice change from home where everyone always watches what he does. 

And also, there’s Lan Wangji.

The two of them have been encouraged to try and spend time together, since there used to be a friendship between their fathers. Well, there’s a friendship between them as well now. It surprises a few people, because they’re so different, Lan Wangji so quiet and studious, Nie Huaisang so chatty and careless, but that’s because people only look at the surface. After all, Lan Wangji doesn’t mind chatter too much if it’s from the right person and on the right subjects, while Nie Huaisang can make himself very quiet when he finds something worthy of his attention. They often go on walk together, admiring the mountains around the Cloud Recesses, painting a little, chatting about things.

They have a lot they can chat about.

Lan Wangji, just like Nie Huaisang, has lost his mother when he was young, and it left a deep impression on him. They also both have complicated feelings about their fathers, and that’s… such a relief to finally have someone who can understand that.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t have very close friends at home, and Nie Mingjue refuses to hear anything about those last few months of their father's life, acting as if because their father wouldn’t normally have done those things, then it doesn’t matter that he still actually did them. And Lan Wangji seems glad that someone will listen when he says that he just wishes his father would see him sometimes, that he’s working so hard to be worthy of his attention.

Lan Wangji doesn’t like to be touched, but they hug a few times, and cry as well.

So maybe, just maybe, Nie Huaisang puts even less effort in his studies than he would have, just so he fails his years. Nie Mingjue has told him he’d stay in Gusu until he passes when his grades started reaching him, and Nie Huaisang isn’t above using that to his advantage.

While he is in the Cloud Recesses, his list of requirements for a husband continues getting longer.

It’d be nice to marry someone from the Lan clan, Nie Huaisang figures. Someone who is trustworthy. Someone who is a good listener. Someone serious but with a surprising sense of humour when you know him. Someone with a face that looks carved out of marble, with eyes that look almost golden in the right light. Someone tall, with the manners of a scholar and the posture of an emperor. Someone who maybe is next in line to lead his sect.

Nie Huaisang might have a bit of a crush. He knows it’s one sided, though, and he doesn’t mind too much. His list is a fun thing to think about, but he’s starting to realise that maybe Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan were right that day: he’s not exactly the most marriageable person in the world.

Well, he’ll just have to stay at his brother’s side and help him once he’s old enough for that. It’s not a bad fate.

Still, that list is getting a little too specific. Just for the sake of plausible deniability, Nie Huaisang also adds ‘smiles a lot’ on it.

-

Later, Nie Huaisang can’t even remember what the argument with Nie Mingjue was about. His grades and failure in Gusu, maybe. Or the fact that his golden core is really little more than a slightly tinted dustball. Possibly, it was because Nie Huaisang blew so much of his allowance into buying paper and a pretty new fan. But really, it might have been something else entirely. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that the argument blew up into a huge fight, with Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue shouting at each other for what feels like hours, until Nie Mingjue says that he never wanted to have a brother anyway, to which Nie Huaisang replies that good, because he doesn’t have one anymore now, right before storming off to his room.

They’ve always had arguments. It’s in their temperament. Back when father was alive, it wasn’t too much of a problem because he always found ways to make them reconcile within the day. The fights they’ve had since his death have been nastier, brought on by Nie Mingjue’s exhaustion from working so much and Nie Huaisang’s frustration at never being enough. They’ve been vicious sometimes, but never like that day. That day, it feels like something broke.

As soon as he reaches his room, Nie Huaisang grabs the largest qiankun bag he can find, and shoves inside all his most precious possessions. Fans, robes, brushes, books… some jewellery and money too, because he’s not stupid no matter what some people seem to think. If he’s running away to Gusu, then he’ll need to pay for inns and food… and for a horse as well, because he’s certainly not going to fly there. Nie Mingjue can keep that stupid sabre.

Figuring that the guards might stop him if he tries to leave through the front door, Nie Huaisang decides to go through the back of the Unclean Realm and take the mountain path. Surveillance there is lesser, and he is quite capable of using his cultivation to quickly climb the high walls, thanks. After that, it's only a matter of finding his way back toward the road to Qinghe, and from there he'll have no trouble going toward Gusu.

At least, that's the plan. 

The truth is, those mountains around the Unclean Realm are rough and hard to navigate, with heavy fogs making it hard to find one's way. It doesn't take long for Nie Huaisang to get lost. He gets a brief moment of hope when the fog lifts after a few hours, until he realises that's only because it has started raining. It soon turns into a downpour and Nie Huaisang, who isn't dressed for that weather, starts getting very cold. 

Desperately trying to find a place to hide from the rain, Nie Huaisang would have missed that little cavern if he hadn't tripped face first right in front of it. He thinks, later, that it might have been fate. For now though, it's just a dry place where he happily takes refuge.

As bad as he is at cultivation and Night Hunts, Nie Huaisang has suffered through enough lessons to know what to do in this situation. He removes all of his drenched clothes, and puts on one of the robes he brought, the thickest one he can find. The wet clothes are laid flat on the floor to help them dry, Nie Huaisang eats one snack, and then sets out to explore his refuge and make sure that nothing there is dangerous. 

One slow burning flame talisman in hand, Nie Huaisang discovers that he isn't in an ordinary cave, but in an abandoned temple. He'd be hard pressed to say who the temple is dedicated to. Time has erased names and signs, and the divinity's statue has suffered so much that he can't even decide if it's a man or a woman. Still, Nie Huaisang isn't one to take unnecessary risks, so he bows before that statue, and offers thanks for the refuge. 

Kneeling before that forgotten god, Nie Huaisang feels something poking at him inside his sleeve. He almost laughs when he discovers that stupid list of his, and then nearly cries instead. 

The list, which for years has brought him comfort, suddenly feels like the physical manifestation of how stupid he is. Did he really think anyone would love him, let alone a person as perfect as the one he's described? And what was he thinking, trying to run away? Even if Lan Wangji somewhat puts up with him, the instant he steps into the Cloud Recesses, Lan Qiren will send him back to Qinghe. That's if he even makes it to Gusu, though, which seems unlikely when he is so badly lost in those inhospitable mountains. He can't even fly up to find his way, because he's a stubborn, talentless little idiot who left his sabre at home. He's probably going to die here, and no one will miss him. If anything they'll be glad he's gone, one less problem to bother them. 

Nie Huaisang does cry in the end. He doesn't want to die, and he's tired of never being good enough for anyone. 

He wonders if that forgotten god would understand the feeling, left behind in this old temple, without anyone praying to them. If that was the god's only temple, then they must have faded away long ago, just like Nie Huaisang might die if he's not rescued. At least, he'll die in a fitting place. 

Outside, night falls. Inside, Nie Huaisang is shivering, no matter how many robes he puts on. He vaguely wonders if he might have a fever, but his head feels too fuzzy to really care. Bored and cold and burning, he starts chatting with that faceless god, almost as if they were old friends.

"We will be if I die here," Nie Huaisang points out as he meticulously divides his snacks so half of them will go to this unknown god. "I hope you don't mind chatter. I'm told I talk too much sometimes."

When his task is finished, he puts the snacks on the dusty altar, and bows again to the deity. It feels like a pitiful offering, but he dares not put his money and jewellery there. 

"I'll need them to have a road built to this place if I survive," he explains. "And then I'll come whenever I can, and encourage others to come too. I think that's a good deal, right?"

There is no answer. He's not quite feverish enough to expect one. Still, it doesn't feel like he's giving enough. Biscuits and a promise… But it's all he had. That and a stupid list about all the things he'll never have, all the things he'll never be. 

"Do you want this as well?" he asks, unfolding the list and laying it on the altar. "Listen, I just want for things to get better. It's all, you know ? Make sure it gets better, and I swear I'll get people to come pray to you again." 

The hidden temple remains silent, save for the sound of heavy rains outside. Growing tired of this one sided conversation, and just tired in general, Nie Huaisang curls up before the altar, wrapped as comfortably in his many robes, and closes his eyes. 

He wonders if Nie Mingjue has even noticed yet that he's gone. Probably not, he figures before losing consciousness, and even if he has, he most likely doesn't care. 

When Nie Huaisang wakes up, it is to the familiar comfort of his own bedroom in the Unclean Realm. He’s tempted, at first, to think that everything was just a bad dream, that he never ran away and found that little temple. It sounds like the sort of stupid dreams he’d have. Quickly though, he figures that something is slightly wrong. First of all, there’s a chair next to his bed. It is empty at the moment, but Nie Huaisang finds vague memories coming back to him, telling him that it has been occupied for a long time. Then, there’s the fact that Nie Huaisang is very thirsty and positively starving, something that rarely happens to him. He never goes for long without snacks of some sort, unless he’s ill.

He thinks back of the temple, how cold and hot he was. Uh. So he really got a fever from all that rain then. It’s embarrassing, and Nie Huaisang is sure that as soon as it’s clear he’s healthy again, he’ll be scolded for his low cultivation that allowed this to happen.

That’s a problem for later. For now, Nie Huaisang’s only worry is that he’s starving. Scoldings he can deal with, but he can’t bear to have an empty stomach. With great effort he rises from his bed, finds a robe to throw on, and leaves his room. He hasn’t taken two steps into the corridor that he finds himself in front of Nie Zonghui and a servant carrying on a tray a bowl of what smells like broth.

“Nie er-gongzi, I’m glad to see you’re well,” Nie Zonghui says, and quite amazingly he seems to mean it. “We were all very worried about you.”

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes before glancing toward the bowl of broth. He’s salivating already, it’s disgraceful.

“You were so worried that I woke up alone,” Nie Huaisang teases. Then, unable to resist a second longer, he grabs the broth and starts greedily drinking it, manners be damned. He almost chokes on it a few times, but it doesn’t matter, he’s just too hungry to care.

“Slow down!” Nie Zonghui orders him, only to be ignored. “And I had to drag your brother out so he’d have a look at his mail instead, but you can’t have been alone more than five minutes, so don’t complain.”

The bowl emptied, Nie Huaisang puts it back on the tray and thanks the servant. Maybe Nie Zonghui had it right about going slow, because he feels a little nauseous now, but… no way he’ll admit to that.

“Nie zongzhu has been at your side the whole time,” Nie Zonghui insists. “He’s the one who found you, too. Nie gongzi, we really thought we had lost you. What were you thinking, going to such an isolated place? If your brother hadn’t found you when he did…”

Something in his cousin’s tone makes Nie Huaisang shiver. In all honesty, now that he’s not upset about whatever argument he had with Nie Mingjue, he does realise that it was stupid of him to run away like this. He knows the mountains are dangerous, he’s grown on tales of people getting lost or falling to their death. And that’s without getting into the spirits and demons that live there, waiting for whoever will be foolish enough to enter their territory.

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” he mutters. “I just wanted to go out without being seen. I was just going to…”

“Tell that to your brother,” Nie Zonghui cuts him. “He’ll be happy to see you’re well enough to be running around. Although you might want to dress a bit more, because…”

Nie Huaisang dashes off without listening. He feels a bit wobbly on his legs, which tells him he might have been out for at least a day or two, but it doesn’t matter. If he looks a little pitiful, Nie Mingjue will be less angry at him for being such a mess of things.

When he enters his brother’s office, Nie Huaisang has the surprise to find that Nie Mingjue isn’t alone in there. There’s a stranger with him, the two of them chatting quite amicably. It must be what Nie Zonghui tried to warn him about. For a moment Nie Huaisang feels rather embarrassed to be seen like this by that very handsome stranger, his hair unkempt, wearing nothing but underwear and a hastily put on robe… but he doesn’t get a lot of time to worry. In an instant Nie Mingjue jumps from his chair and crosses the distance between them to hug him so tight it almost hurts.

“You little idiot,” Nie Mingjue huffs, sounding as if he’s fighting tears. “What are you doing up? Did the healer say you can?”

“I was bored and hungry and I wanted to see you,” Nie Huaisang retorts, glancing toward the stranger and wishing he’d go away. He has apologies to make, but he can’t do that in front of an audience. In fact, he expects his brother to make the young man leave. Their fights are always awful, but they’ve never not reconciled before, and they both get so tearful over it, which Nie Mingjue doesn’t want anyone to know because he has a reputation.

It’s a shock when Nie Mingjue doesn’t say anything to that stranger, and starts apologising anyway.

“I’m sorry we had that fight,” he grumbles. “I was tired, I shouldn’t have said that… A-Sang, are you ok? You had such a bad fever, I really thought… don’t run away like that again, you hear me?”

Nie Huaisang nods. He wants to return the apology, but there’s still that young man, looking at them with a fond smile, and it’s starting to make him very uncomfortable. He’d like some privacy, thanks.

“Who’s that?” he asks, nodding toward the stranger.

The young man frowns at the question, while Nie Mingjue pulls away from the hug to give his brother a concerned look. He even goes so far as to put his hand on Nie Huaisang’s forehead.

“No, the fever’s gone,” he says. “Huaisang, is this a joke?”

“Why would I be joking?”

Nie Mingjue glances behind at the man who looks just as puzzled as him, and frowns.

“Huaisang… that’s Xichen.”

His tone of voice makes it clear that the identity of the young man is very obvious to him, and should be obvious to Nie Huaisang as well. Intrigued, Nie Huaisang looks more closely at the young man, trying to remember if they’ve met before.

“Lan Xichen?” he hazards, judging by the embroidered ribbon and the pale robes, to which his brother nods.

It doesn’t ring any bells. If there’s a Lan Xichen in the inner Lan clan, then Nie Huaisang has never met him, never heard of him… which is very odd, because this young man seems barely older than him, so they should have been introduced when Nie Huaisang went to study in the Cloud Recesses. Besides, he’s sure he would have remembered someone that handsome, with features so similar to Lan Wangji’s that they could be twins. Not only that, but the quality of his sword and the jade token hanging from his belt mark him as being very high in the hierarchy of Gusu Lan, so really Nie Huaisang can’t imagine how he wouldn’t have taken notice of such a person.

“I was in the area and I thought I should say hi to Mingjue,” Lan Xichen explains with a warm smile, his voice gentle and pleasant to the ear. “I was told you had been unwell, but I’m glad you are getting better.”

“I don’t know how much better he is if he doesn’t remember you,” Nie Mingjue grumbles. “You’ve only been visiting me every other month for the last four years, and spent a whole damn year tutoring him in Gusu. Damn brat left his bed too soon. I’m taking him back and then we can chat some more, Xichen.”

Nie Huaisang blinks a few times, and takes a step back.

Something is wrong.

Something is very wrong.

His brother never speaks so casually to people outside their sect. In fact, even inside their sect, there’s only a few people he’ll talk to like this, mostly Nie Huaisang, Nie Zonghui, and a few other cousins close in age. Nie Mingjue doesn’t trust anyone outside of Qinghe Nie, and he does his best to keep his distance from others so nobody forgets to treat him as a full sect leader in spite of his youth.

Aside from that, Nie Huaisang might have somehow missed a Lan Xichen while he was in Gusu, but he would have noticed if the Unclean Realm had gotten such a frequent visitor for this long, and he certainly would remember if anyone had tried to tutor him last year.

“With your permission, I’d like to stay here until your brother gets better,” Lan Xichen offers. “My uncle’s business is dealt with so there’s no emergency, and that way we could travel back to Gusu together so I keep an eye on him. I know Wangji wouldn’t forgive me if I let his friend go alone after such an ordeal.”

Nie Huaisang tenses, his eyes going wide.

Nobody calls Lan Wangji like this except his uncle. Everyone else gives him a very polite Lan Wangji, or more likely calls him Lan gongzi, to show the proper respect and deference due to a future sect leader.

“Still can’t believe your brother took a shine to that brat of mine,” Nie Mingjue huffs. “Opposites attract can only go so far.”

Lan Xichen laughs, and it’s the most pleasant sound Nie Huaisang has ever heard in his life, but he barely notices it because he’s panicking.

Lan Wangji doesn’t have a brother. Nie Huaisang knows this for sure because it’d be kind of a big detail to miss about his friend.

Lan Wangji doesn’t have a brother, but Nie Mingjue apparently thinks he does, and that it’s this young man in front of them.

A young man who does look like Lan Wangji, down to the golden flakes in his eyes, but smiles as if the whole world makes him happy.

A young man who apparently gets along very well with Nie Mingjue, who is kind and considerate and who, judging by the way he keeps glancing toward Nie Huaisang, might have some fondness for him as well.

A young man who looks right out of Nie Huaisang’s wildest fantasy, but is apparently real and standing right before him.

Nie Huaisang feels his legs go weak under him, and has to grab his brother’s arm to avoid collapsing.

Make sure it gets better, he asked that forgotten god, handing them a list full of his wildest dreams. It certainly wasn’t what Nie Huaisang meant. All he’d wanted was to not die and go home and maybe not be scolded too hard, not this.

“Huaisang, what’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue shouts.

“His pulse is too fast,” Lan Xichen says, having come closer and grabbed his wrist. “He must not have been as well healed as it seemed… Mingjue, you have to make him lay down, I’ll got get the healers.”

In a daze and feeling darkness creep upon his mind, Nie Huaisang almost wants to laugh.

This is such a mess.

Also, apparently, he has a debt toward a god now.

[weabooweedwitch]

I really hope your pain lessens soon. What you’re going through is very difficult and you have every right to cry, feel angry, and resent the world. Soon this period of feelings will simmer away like a dying flame. It’ll take strength to embrace the world and all of its dark sides, but from what I can tell you’re a very strong person who’s more than capable of it. You are a person with many faucets and great creative energy. I truly appreciate everything you bring to this world, your dedication to art inspires me. Please stay safe<3

Oh gosh and here i thought I was done crying for the night ;u; I feel really shitty for uh well Having A Public Episode, kinda thought i was over having public mental crises on tumblr but, I guess, I dunno how to phrase this without sounding conceited, 'I guess most of you can tell I'm going through a lot of shit right now and hopefully will be mostly okay with the fact I brought up an extremely upsetting subject' but also I just. Feel really bad for making anyone really worried. I wonder if I should delete the posts and asks but also I feel like the conversation around it is important? Does thst make sense. I'm way too obsessed with how you guys probably see me after this, honestly, becuase it isn't like this is the first time I've needed some sort of help. I still feel bad for needing money when I was homeless. People gave money for Allister to get his surgery. And I internalize a lot of guilt whenever I need help and I guess that's part of the trauma i need to work through, somehow.

Anyways it also makes me really happy for you to bring to bring up like my creative hobbies and stuff too. I've been meaning to get back into my writing but I've also been wanting to pick up like, craft skills? Like my work was selling this little activity kits and I bought one for soap making and one for embroidering because I thought they would be fun to learn. And that's kind of something I feel like I should be trying to be pursuing more in my free time is how much I like to make art and create thing and I've kind of. Fallen into a hole a little bit. And I'm honestly starting to wonder if its because I'm forming a really horrible relationship with weed. I basically smoke before any pleasurable activity so I enjoy it more and sometimes I just sit and get so fucked up I wind up getting distracted and doing something else or I like, have to sleep, or, I spend too much time and have to go to work the next day or bed or whatever. And sometimes I say "oh ill smoke or drink before I write so im more inspired and like, yeah, it can help, but its gotten to the point where I refuse to try without and that's obviously. Not normal. I obviously inherited my father's addiction genes 💀💀💀

Wait i somehow circled back to being negative! Key points are im trying to do more things i enjoy even though I've been doing not so great mentally and I do enjoy creating things and sharing things and I hope to do some of that more in the future. Maybe I'll buy some paints and some small canvasses. I liked to paint when I was in the hospital because I didn't own any paints or materials to do so at home so it was fun to experiment and for some reason its like, a fond experience for me despite rhe fact I was in the big house

Oh god did I ever show you the time I like. Deadass painted Prospit and. What was rhe blue place. Either way that fucking dates me so hard. My cringe paintings from my fail childhood 🤣

[thetomorrowshow]

unless you take your army back, ch. 6

First  -  Previous  -  Read on AO3!

college life go brrrrrrrr

cw: description of injuries, ptsd flashbacks, paranoia

~

Three more days, Katherine had told him. Three more days of resting with intermittent periods of stretching, then walking the length of the room. The first few times, the room expanded out endlessly before him. Even with Jack to steady him, it was a challenge that sent him straight to sleep afterwards, vision hazy from the exercise and lack of food. By the second day, though, it became easier and easier, until he could slowly make it from the bed to the door barely out of breath. Jack wasn’t exactly pleased with his progress, but Crutchie refused to stay at home a day longer. So, when the bell rang on the fourth morning, Crutchie roused himself with everyone else and slipped his vest on, excited to finally be back among his brothers.

The plan was fairly simple to follow. Jack and Tommy Boy would walk him to get a cup of coffee from the nuns, then they would loiter there and rest for a good fifteen minutes, until Davey and Les turned up with some papers for them to sell. Tommy Boy would go his own way, and the four of them would make the walk to Crutchie’s normal selling spot (“It’s a bit of a walk, Crutch.” “No. This is non-negotiable, Jack. I’m sellin’. At my spot.”), where Jack and Les would break off down the street and Davey would stick with Crutchie.

It seemed simple, at least. In practice?

It was still simple. Easy, even. There was no screwing this up. Which was why, after an exhausting hike, Crutchie found himself at his normal corner, ten papers in his bag and Davey shouting a headline.

The wind was strong today, strong enough that Crutchie’s hat nearly blew off and some dirt got kicked up into his face almost as soon as he stopped on the corner he usually sold at. Crutchie himself would’ve been blown over if he hadn’t been leaning against a wall, still trying to catch his breath from the walk. It was nicer than the scorching heat of earlier in the week, though. At least with the wind he wasn’t sweating through his bandages.

Crutchie limped forward to join Davey closer to the street, digging through his bag to pull out a pape. There wasn’t much of a way to wave it around, not with one arm holding onto his crutch and the other in a sling, but he could at least hold on to it to make for an easier transaction.

“Paper!” he called. “Paper! Man gets--uh, murder! Just last night, murder of . . . a child! You heard it here!”

Davey threw him a disbelieving look. “That isn’t what it says at all.”

Crutchie shrugged. “I didn’t read it.”

Davey sighed, showed him the headline. Something about the governor giving a speech. Boring. “Is there anythin’ better in there?” Crutchie asked hopefully. Davey nodded, flipping open the paper to an article about a fire at the carnival the night before. That was useful.

“Three children, stranded on the ferris wheel for hours!” Crutchie shouted, not bothering to read the rest of the article. Davey burst out laughing, but made a call of his own.

“Fairgrounds on fire, parents abandoning their own children to escape! Read the story here!”

Soon enough, Davey had a customer, then Crutchie did as well. An older gentleman, one who looked at him as if he was diseased. Crutchie tried to smile, but couldn’t make his mouth muscles work. Right, his face was still quite the sight. Not to mention the way he leaned heavily on his crutch, or his immobilized right arm. Still, the man dropped a penny in his left hand (briefly removed from the handle of his crutch) and yanked the paper away from him before hurrying off. Crutchie tucked the coin into his pocket. Only nine more to sell.

Why did nine papers weigh his bag down so much?

Next was the woman he’d seen Buttons selling to the previous week, and she greeted Crutchie with enthusiasm, going so far as to hug him (Crutchie gripped his crutch as tightly as his bruised fingers would allow to keep from making a noise). When she pulled back, her smile froze, truly taking him in.

“Why, Crutchie! Was this all from that children’s strike?” she asked, clearly shocked.

Crutchie didn’t know quite what to say. The hug had startled him, jostled his healing ribs, and he couldn’t quite get words to form. “Uh, no, Miss,” he stuttered, offering a paper. “Got unjustly arrested an’ the like.”

She gasped, leaning closer instead of taking it from him. “Did the police--?”

“Not exactly, ma’am,” Crutchie said. He stepped back to put a little distance between them. “But I’s all right now, it’s good ta see ya again--”

“It was that Snyder, with his children’s jail, wasn’t it?” she asked, and Crutchie’s heart skipped a beat. Mentioning Snyder was not good, not at all, never. In fact, the hairs on the back of Crutchie’s neck rose as he realized--Snyder could be on this very street, he could be anywhere--Crutchie looked around, searching for that bowler hat, those hands always ready to grab--

“Whatever happened, it is so good to see you again, Crutchie,” the lady was saying. She handed him a coin and gently pried the paper from his grip. Crutchie managed to nod at her, still checking everyone on the street. He was here, somewhere, he could feel it. Snyder was one of these people, hurrying by on their way to work or wherever they were headed, and he would spot him if he moved and drag him back there--

“Crutchie? You doing all right?”

Crutchie ignored David, doing his best to examine everyone while also not moving at all. His legs ached, but his back was screaming to not lean against the wall again. Knowing that Snyder was near seemed to be aggravating it, the memories of being whipped so near to his mind.

“Crutchie, if you pass out, Jack is going to kill me.”

“I’m fine,” Crutchie forced himself to say. It came out as a hoarse whisper, almost silent. He cleared his throat and turned to Davey, who was watching him with a considerable amount of concern. “I’m good,” he said louder, every nerve of his body jangling in alarm. He ignored it. “Jus’ . . . got distracted. Is all.”

Davey nodded slowly, brows furrowed. “If you say so,” he said. “But if somethin’ happens, I’m telling Jack it was your fault.”

Crutchie forced himself to laugh, knowing he wasn’t even smiling. Luckily, Davey seemed satisfied and went back to his business. Crutchie looked down to slip the coin into his pocket--a quarter?

A whole quarter?

He stared at it, mouth falling open slightly. The most he’d ever gotten for one pape, on the best day, was a dime.

“Dave--” but Davey was busy, interacting with a customer. Crutchie swallowed, then dropped the quarter in his pocket. It added a strange weight, clearly separate from the penny already there. Even at his most pitiful, he’d never gotten a quarter for a single pape!

He must look pretty bad, then.

Crutchie sold four more papers, three of them to regulars who sought him out. Each of those three gave him more than the penny price, leaving Crutchie almost wishing that he had bargained with Jack for more than ten papes. He was making bank today.

After the eighth paper was sold for a nickel, though, Crutchie realized he wasn’t going to be standing for much longer. His body pulsed painfully with each pump of his heart, he was emotionally exhausted from his constant scans for Snyder--he knew he was here, somewhere, just out of sight, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce--and although it hurt his pride something awful, he knew it was time to tell Davey he needed to go. If he could stay, he would, but Jack would tie him down to his bed to keep him from going out tomorrow if he worked himself too hard today. He couldn’t risk it.

Crutchie waited patiently as Davey finished up a sale, then nudged his shoulder. All it took was one glance at Crutchie’s face for Davey to nod.

“You need to get back in bed,” he said, before Crutchie could even say anything. “Let me go tell Jack we’re heading back. Sit down, okay?”

Davey helped Crutchie lower himself to the curb, then looked around for a few seconds before heading off in a random direction. Crutchie tried not to freak out too much--not having Davey here didn’t make him much of an easier target, right?

It did, actually. So did sitting down. Not selling did as well, made him less noticeable to everyone around. He couldn’t--he was going to vanish, just like so many others, just like Albert that one time, but unlike Albert he couldn’t run away. If Snyder dragged him away right now, he wasn’t even sure that he’d be able to scream for help.

“You sellin’ today’s paper, boy?” A rough voice from above asked.

Crutchie looked up (how long had he been staring at his shoes?) to see a construction worker, holding out a penny. Crutchie nodded wordlessly, struggled with his bag for a few long moments, finally extracted a newspaper to hand to the man. The man coughed into the paper, dropped the penny into Crutchie’s open hand, then hauled off.

Crutchie vaguely hoped he didn’t get sick. He always seemed so much more likely to pick up any illness on the street than the other boys--something to do with his bad leg, probably. In his current weakened state, a bad cold might be enough to push him over the edge.

He still had one paper left--right? He could sell it while Davey was gone. No, wait, he had to save one for Mr. Myers, at the bakery. And one for Dr. Ellis, over at his office a few blocks away. He only had one, though--how was he supposed to get one for both of them? He couldn’t choose between them, they were both his loyal customers and now that he was out here he had to sell to them or else they might think he was ignoring them. What should he do? What could he do?

Crutchie glimpsed a bowler hat before it passed into an alley, bobbing out of view. He froze, even stopped breathing. If he didn’t move, maybe Snyder wouldn’t notice him. He wanted that, right? But maybe if he made a sound, maybe if he was noticeable enough, Snyder would open the door to the closet and let him see some light again, maybe even give him some water if he was feeling kind, maybe even let him out.

But was the risk of being stomped into the floor worth it? That was more likely to happen, what happened any time he got too loud. Sure, it broke up the monotony, gave him a point to focus on, but every attack brought him closer to the end. Was that what he wanted?

Was it?

It didn’t matter right now. Instinct kicked in and Crutchie huddled in closer around himself, protecting the most vulnerable parts of his body. He could stay safe if he was quiet and small, that had always worked. Back when he’d been a beggar on the streets, he’d avoided the bulls by making himself as unnoticeable as possible, tucked into the corner of an alley, mixed in the middle of a crowd of tall folk. It was a tactic that had always worked, it had to be of some use here.

Crutchie didn’t know how long he sat on the curb, head tucked into his knees and arms wrapped around himself. All he knew is that the world grew muted, the sound becoming as empty as the darkness of his closed eyes. His heart seemed to pound in his throat, blocking it and effectively silencing him. There was nothing but himself, his heartbeat, and Snyder--lurking nearby, waiting for him to make the first move and condemn himself.

He was crying, Crutchie realized distantly--only because his nose had begun to block up. He couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t risk the sound--but he couldn’t breathe, not with his nose blocked, but he couldn’t open his mouth--

A hand--no, no, no--landed on his shoulder, fingers burning into him with a vicious pain, and Crutchie rolled away as well as he could--head knocking into something hard, bad arm and leg twinging as they got caught under his weight--knowing he was in trouble. He was in trouble for not breathing, for trying to escape, for existing--

Blood thrummed in his ears, growing louder and louder and louder as Crutchie coughed, choking on dust, and hands grabbed him again--so rough, just to drag him back to face more abuse--and yanked him by the back of his shirt, his legs kicking out desperately.

They let him go almost immediately, though, and Crutchie cringed, waiting--waiting . . . waiting for nothing? He drew in a shallow breath, ribs aching slightly, and forced his eyes open.

For a moment, the dim figure of one of Snyder’s thugs stood above him, rubbing his hands together, but Crutchie flinched and there was Jack, his face starkly pale, eyes rimmed with red.

“What was you thinkin’?” Jack yelled, breaking the muffled silence. Crutchie’s hand came up involuntarily to cover his ears--Jack speaking was like a dam bursting, and the cacophony of noise from his environment caught up all at once. “Rollin’ out into the road like that, ya nearly got yourself killed!”

Crutchie stared up at Jack, confused. He didn’t really . . . know where he was. Somewhere loud, unbearably loud, but unknown. As he came to that fact, Crutchie’s breath caught in his throat. Why didn’t he know where he was? He sniffled, trying to not cry even more. He didn’t know where he was and he was sure Snyder was nearby and Jack was mad at him, all of which was wrong in every sort of way. What was happening?

Crutchie noticed Davey behind Jack, holding Les’s hand and looking more scared than Crutchie had ever seen him. Why was he scared? Was Snyder behind him?

He glanced over his shoulder, heart racing, eyes scanning compulsively for a sign of the man. Nothing. Maybe--no, nothing. Well, not nothing, but no him. There were plenty of people, which explained why it was so loud.

“It’s okay, Crutch,” Jack said, and Crutchie looked back up at him. He seemed sad, now, less angry. “Sorry I yelled. But you gotta stay outta the road, okay? You was almost ran over.”

A tear slipped out of the corner of Crutchie’s eye, despite his best efforts to hold it back. He didn’t know what Jack was talking about. None of this made sense and he just wanted to go home. When could he go home?

“Can I touch ya, ta help you up?” Jack asked, crouching down. Crutchie nodded, wiping his eyes on his sling. Even with the warning, Crutchie shuddered when Jack reached under his arms to help him stand. Les handed him his crutch--why did Les have it?--and then he was stumbling off, Jack at his side.

Crutchie was shaking so much that he could barely stay upright, not helped by the fact that Jack had a hand on his back. All it did was put him on edge, anticipating a push to the ground. He knew Jack would never, but he couldn’t help but believe it would happen.

He wasn’t quite sure where they were going, but he hoped it was home. Everything was so loud and unfamiliar and overwhelming right now, and he just wanted to go to sleep.

“Ain’t all here, are ya?” Jack huffed. Crutchie nodded, then shook his head, confused as to what Jack was asking. Yes, he wasn’t exactly present; or no, he wasn’t exactly present? He didn’t know which answer made more sense.

They were moving slowly--Crutchie’s bad leg was seizing, his right wobbly. His back and ribs burned with every movement, leaving him gasping for breath in a matter of minutes. Something that was digging uncomfortably into his right shoulder slipped and fell, his belated efforts to catch it inhibited by the sling pressing his arm to his chest.

They halted for a moment, Jack picking up the thing--his bag, Crutchie registered--and swinging it over his own shoulder before wrapping his arm around Crutchie’s lower back, supporting him under his arms. Crutchie gasped as adrenaline pumped through his body, but tried to shake it off. This was Jack. Jack wouldn’t hurt him. Knowing that didn’t help clear his head, though, nor did it keep him from trembling.

“It’s okay, you’s okay,” Jack muttered, helping him along the moderately busy sidewalk. “Just keep movin’. We’s goin’ home, okay?”

Crutchie said nothing, just focused on walking. His head really hurt, but he tried to process what had happened. Something about . . . Davey? And selling papes, and . . . he had a decent bit of money, didn’t he? “Jack. . . .”

“Yeah?”

Crutchie bit his lip. “I . . . can afford a bed tonight,” he offered. Jack chuckled tightly.

“Don’t talk about it here, all right?”

What else had happened? Crutchie knew he was missing so much, everything was so cloudy and exhausting and difficult. Something . . . something like. . . .

He caught a whiff of a new scent in the air, one that grew stronger with every step. Bread, freshly baked. It smelled incredible, yet Crutchie felt his stomach turn. It reminded him--

“Jack, Mr. Myers,” he said, looking around until he spotted the bakery, across the street and a few buildings down. “I gotta--I bring him a pape--”

“I’ll get it to ‘im later, all right?” Jack said soothingly. “Don’ worry about it. Right as soon as we got you in bed, I’ll head over.”

Crutchie wanted to do it himself, but he was too tired to argue. Instead, he nodded, and gave more of his weight to Jack.

When they finally reached the lodging house, Crutchie drenched in sweat and panting, Jack not doing much better (in the last leg of the journey, Jack had had to practically carry the boy), Jack let them in and helped Crutchie up the stairs, slowly, laboriously. With care, he laid him in the single bed by the window, where he had spent so many days already.

“I need ya ta sleep now, yeah?” Jack murmured, pulling the curtains closed. Crutchie nodded blearily. It was so warm in here that he couldn’t help but start to nod off already. Maybe everything would make more sense when he woke.

-

Jack fell into the chair that he usually did as soon as Crutchie’s breathing evened out. It hadn’t been too rough of a day selling, at least for the half hour that he managed before Davey had come to find him. He’d gotten about twenty papes sold, which was surprisingly good for any day. It must have been the cool wind, breaking the heat wave that had been dragging on for days. Now that it wasn’t absolutely sweltering, more people were going places, more people wanted to know what was going on, more people were buying what he was selling.

He needed to get back out there, hawk those headlines, take whatever papes Crutchie didn’t sell and sneak the coins from it into the kid’s pocket later, but he couldn’t make himself leave his side. Jack looked down at Crutchie, the yellowing bruises still marring his young face, and swallowed down a lump in his throat. It was okay, he reminded himself. Crutchie was getting better. Soon the ring of bruises around his neck would fade completely and his ribs would knit themselves back together.

Jack didn’t know much of the extent of Crutchie’s injuries. He knew that both of his legs hurt something awful--his bad leg was expected, but both was . . . unnerving. Distressing. Not being able to walk at all sounded like a nightmare. He knew also that Crutchie had some cracked ribs and fingers along with his broken arm, all of which made Jack grind his teeth angrily. There was something up with his back (whippings, Jack assumed, or maybe Snyder had gotten out that cane) and Jack had seen blood staining the bandage on his chest when his shirt fell open enough, so some sort of cut there as well. But what sent Jack over the edge every time was the sheer amount of bruising on his face and throat.

Sure, the broken nose was tradition, but that had been set well and had almost completely healed by now. Usually Snyder had the guards go a bit easy on the face, though, in case of government inspections. A bloody nose, a bad cut, a couple of bruises--all of those were routine. This painful mural splashed across Crutchie’s face? Entirely out of the ordinary.

There were several identifiable reasons, if one thought about it (which Jack had spent a lot of time doing). The strike, for one--it must've rankled Snyder, to nab only one of the boys responsible, and particularly to miss Jack, even though he had not only been present but leading. And it was also clear that Crutchie was close to Jack, if who he had cried out for had been any sort of evidence. Jack bit his lip as he remembered how near he was, how he could have helped, how he could have been taken in his brother's place. A part of him felt the guilt, the shame that threatened to choke him at the idea of leaving Crutchie there alone. Another part of him, though, felt a sick sense of relief. The combined hate Snyder and Pulitzer held for the union leader would have ended in Jack's death, dragged out and painful, with the strike left in ruins behind him. It couldn't have been him to be taken.

Thinking those thoughts put a bad taste in Jack's mouth. He wasn't any better than any of these boys, deserved the Refuge just as much--and even more--than all of them. Davey would've continued the strike, just as he had when Jack had given up, both times. Katherine had come up with the plan to advertise a childrens' strike. She and Davey, as well as Spot Conlon, would have found a press. Crutchie would've been a decent leader as well, would have kept the boys in line and organized the protesting, while Davey worked things out with Medda to get Roosevelt. The four kids would've made it to Pulitzer's office the same way Jack, Davey, and Conlon had; Crutchie would've made proper deals with the man, Davey and Katherine would've shut down the Refuge, Spot and Crutchie would've called off the strike. And what would happen to Jack, stuck in the Refuge?

Maybe he would've died. Maybe he'd exit as weak as Crutchie had, not even conscious, taking weeks to get back on his feet while life continued around him. Maybe he would walk out, not hurt too badly but skittish and haunted, not fit to lead any longer.

Not that Jack, a two-time traitor, considered himself worthy to lead now.

He needed to tell Crutchie, tell him that he'd scabbed twice. It didn't matter that both times it had been for him, an attempt to protect his brother. Crutchie didn't want that. Jack knew Crutchie like the back of his hand, and the kid would go through all the torture and loneliness and despair again if it guaranteed success for the strike. It was that self-sacrificing quality that made Crutchie so much of a better person. When faced with a threat of possible death, Crutchie would go proudly. Jack would turn tail and run.

"Stupid," Jack muttered, dragging a hand across his face. He didn't know if he was talking about himself or the sleeping boy before him.

-

Specs knew where Jack was going to be without even looking for him--which worked out, because he didn't have the time to search the streets of Manhattan. A bad fight had been on the verge of breaking out when he’d left Romeo and Albert, and Jack was needed as soon as possible.

As expected, Jack was slumped in his usual chair beside a sleeping Crutchie (Specs made a mental note to ask Davey how selling had gone later). He looked up when Specs entered.

“Hey,” Jack said sleepily. He rubbed his eyes, then sat up straighter. “Whaddya need?”

Instead of answering, Specs nodded toward Crutchie. “He all right?”

Jack shrugged. “He didn’ really know where he was,” he said, affecting a tone of unconcern. “Thought he oughtta get back ta bed.”

Specs had never spent time in the Refuge, but he’d helped plenty of newsies recover from their time there. If Jack was having a bad day, he usually shut himself up on the rooftop until he felt in control enough that he wouldn’t seem weak around the others. Others, like Race, would push themselves to work until they ended up so tired they had waking-dreams that they were back there. Based on how Jack was acting, something like that had likely happened to Crutchie. Poor kid.

“Specs, was you gonna ask me somethin’?”

Right. Urgent need and all that. “Uh, yeah,” Specs said. He adjusted his spectacles as casually as possible. “Queens ain’t all that happy with somethin’, they wanna see you.”

Jack glanced at Crutchie, then back at Specs, biting his lip. Jack was nervous, Specs realized with a bit of a jolt, something that Jack wasn’t very often. Never before the strike had Jack ever shown that sort of weakness. Not to him, at least. Certainly not to most of the other boys. Not until Crutchie had been taken, Romeo smashed into the ground, Specs himself slammed so hard into a fire escape that his poor head was spinning. They’d never taken that bad of a beating, and it had shaken Jack badly--Specs had noticed it right away, when he found him at the theater.

“Can it wait?” asked Jack, once again looking at Crutchie. The boy was sleeping peacefully, but Specs didn’t let his eyes linger on his face for long. The still-fading bruises made him feel sick in his bones.

“Uh, not really?” Specs said cautiously. “They looked about ready to soak Al and Romeo, so it’s a bit needing-you.”

Jack groaned, running a hand along his cheek. There was stubble there, Specs noticed. Not for the first time, he wondered who would take over when Jack aged out. It might even be sooner than expected, given his scabbing tendencies. “Can I send you in my place?”

“They sent me ta get you, so. . . .”

Jack dropped his face into his hands, letting out a long breath. Specs shifted nervously. He really didn’t want to see Jack cry, not again. Not to mention, they really didn’t have time. The fight was definitely picked by a couple of boys from Queens, but they had a pretty fair claim that Romeo had instigated it, and Albert had made it worse by coming to his defense. The Queens boys had agreed to make a truce with Jack, and Jack alone--and even then, they had terms to declare. Because of course they did. Because of course one of the boys who had taken offense to Romeo stepping onto their turf had been the leader of Queens.

Jack mumbled something. Specs leaned closer, waited, then had just made up his mind to ask what he’d said when Jack sat up, staring out the window and into the sky.

“No, he’s so new ta this still, he ain’t gonna know how ta settle this,” Jack said, his voice sounding almost raw.

“They did sp’fically ask for ya,” Specs added helpfully. “They ain’t gonna sort this out with anyone else.”

Jack didn’t answer for a long time, so long that Specs started to wonder if he hadn’t heard. When he did, though, his voice was quiet, trembling. “I--I can’t leave him.”

As if sensing he was being spoken about, Crutchie inhaled sharply in his sleep, then shifted a little. Jack froze, watching him carefully. Crutchie, however, did not wake, just sighed quietly and lay still once again.

Specs hopped from foot to foot, curling his toes in his new (to him) pair of shoes. Every minute spent was another that could be a fight breaking out, a punch being thrown, a newsie being shoved to the ground. He hated fights these days, hated to hear of  his friends being in danger. They didn't have the time for Jack's comfort.

"I saw Buttons on my way in, maybe I can ask him ta sell right on the door?" he suggested. Jack continued to stare at Crutchie. Whatever he was thinking about, it didn't show on his face.

"And ya know what, I can prolly find Tommy Boy and ask him ta sell with Buttons, that way you gets some muscle by the door. Sounds good? Ready ta go?"

"I don' want 'im ta wake up alone," Jack whispered pitifully. Specs resisted the urge to groan. Jack had always been protective of all of them, but right now he was acting all soft in the head. Refuge or no, Crutchie could take care of himself, and always had. It was common knowledge that Jack and Crutchie were closer than most of the others, the closeness of Mike and Ike without the rivalry. Other than Race a few times (when he was fresh from the Refuge), Crutchie was the only one to sleep on the rooftop with Jack. 

Some of the boys had thought that maybe something was going on between them, Specs included. Race had assured him it was untrue, but there hadn't been much in the way of proof to the contrary. Even now, now that Jack was maybe Katherine's beau, Specs wasn't sure that he and Crutchie hadn't been misbehaving together. Maybe he should ask one of them, something that for whatever reason had never been an option before. Probably not Jack, seeing how he seemed to be falling apart lately. Crutchie might welcome conversation not focusing on his injuries.

"Okay. Show me where they are, get Buttons and Tommy, then get back ta work, yeah?"

Specs snapped out of his thoughts to see Jack standing, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He’d have to find time when Jack wasn’t with Crutchie to talk to him, but right now he needed to help Jack break up a fight.

[myhockeyworld87]

Not So Dangerous Liaison - Sidney Crosby - Part 18

Word Count: 3,779

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Well it’s finally time for their first date. It only took 18 parts to get there...haha! Hope you guys enjoy! Happy Reading

Not So Dangerous Liaison Masterlist

You weren't sure why you were nervous about your date with Sid. It wasn't as if the two of you hadn't been practically living together for the last three weeks. Plus, you were literally spending the next two months together. But this just felt different. "What should I wear?" You asked Sid as he brought in the last suitcase from the car. You were already rummaging through one of yours looking for your makeup.

 "It doesn't matter, you always look nice, but I'm probably going to wear a suit but no tie." That fancy was your first immediate thought. Thank god you'd packed some dresses, per Sid's request, though you thought you'd need them more in Europe than in Cole Harbour.

 "Ok so dress it is then." You had the perfect one in mind for the warm summer night. Now you just needed to remember which suitcase it was in. Sid's master bedroom was starting to look like a tornado hit it as the two of you started unpacking things. "You sure we should be doing this tonight? Look at the mess we have."

 "Yes, tonight. I have everything planned."

 "Planned? I thought this was a spur of the moment thing?"

 "Well, I may have made a phone call or two while my mom had you occupied." Oh, he was sly; you filed this information away for later, for you hadn't really seen this side of Sid yet.

 "So where are we going?"

 "That's a surprise." You started hanging up things in the closet, trying to clean up some of the mess that you'd both made. "I'm going to grab a quick shower." He yelled and you were half tempted to ask if he wanted company, but then the two of you would never get ready.

 "Ok, I'm going to finish unpacking." By the time you heard the shower turn off, you had most of your things put away. "My turn," you told Sid, as you walked into the bathroom. He had a towel slung low on his hips and the sight of water dripping off him totally turned you on.

 "You should've just showered with me." He protested, grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him, so he could drop kisses all over your body. "I could always go back in with you."

 "Sure, but then we aren't going out tonight and you know it."

 He frowned and released you. "True," he said and then swatted your ass. "You better get going then." You took a quick shower, then started to get ready beside Sid. It was way too distracting him just standing there wrapped only in a towel, so when your silk kimono robe you had on slipped open a bit, you didn't adjust it, just going about brushing your hair before grabbing the blow dryer. "Are you trying to tempt me?" He asked looking at you through the mirror.

 "I'm sorry, what? Can't hear you?" Of course, you could hear him, but you pretended not to over the blow dryer. You leaned to the side drying your hair, giving him a nice view of your breast and smirking at the same time.

 "Really (Y/N)?" He laughed knowing your game. "It's not going to work. I'm taking you out tonight, but when we get home…" He let the rest hang in the air before heading out of the bathroom, adjusting himself as he walked out which had you chuckling. It took you about forty-five minutes to finish getting ready, though you were definitely pleased with your reflection in the mirror. "Babe, are you almost ready?" Sid hollered up as you gave yourself one last glance to make sure your makeup was perfect.

 "On my way down." With one little squirt of perfume, you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs to meet Sid. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, in his favorite black suit, traditional white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, holding a long-stemmed red rose. The sight literally took your breath away. You'd seen him in the suit all the time, but this, this was completely different, because this time he was wearing it for you. You smiled at him as you descended the stairs.

 "Wow, you look absolutely amazing." He said as soon as your heel hit the last step. You'd chosen a white knee-length lace dress that was form fitting to your body. Your hair was curled in soft waves down your back and you'd kept your makeup fairly neutral with a pale pink lip.

 "Thank you. You look very handsome as well." His hand, the one not holding the rose, moved to your hip as he stepped closer to you so that he could press a kiss to your lips. It was a bit heated but also too short for your liking. "You know, I don't normally kiss on the first date." You said playfully.

 "Hmm, well I'll consider myself lucky then. This is for you." You accepted the rose that he handed over, bringing it to your nose to inhale its sweet fragrance. "And before you say it, no I did not just pull it out of the ones I already got you."

 You laughed, as the thought hadn't really crossed your mind until he mentioned it. "Well, you didn't need to get me anymore that's for sure. You're spoiling me."

 "That's the idea," and he gave you a wink before offering you his arm as the two of you headed to the car. The drive was beautiful and Sid pointed out different sights here and there, as well as places he wanted to take you during your time here. It was about twenty minutes later you were pulling into a parking lot by the dock. You looked over and there was a large boat or was it a ship? You weren't sure which was the proper term, but it was beautiful as lights outline its features showing it off.

 "Are we going on that?"

 "Yeah, hope that's ok?" Ok, it was more than ok. You could tell that he'd rented the whole thing out for just the two of you.

 "It's perfect, Sid." He came around and opened your door then led you down the dock to what you now considered had to be called a yacht. There was a small table set up for the two of you, that had a beautiful arrangement of flowers in the center. How he'd made all these plans in such a short amount of time you'd never know. Even though you couldn't ask for a better first date, you couldn't resist teasing Sid just a little. "So is now a good time to tell you I get seasick?" He looked physically ill as he looked over at you, and suddenly you felt bad, but you couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up from inside you. "Just kidding."

 "Oh my god, you had me seriously worried there for a minute."

 "I'm sorry," you told him as you patted his chest, and he held your hand there for just a few seconds longer. "I had to do it."

 "You know I'll get you back."

 With your heels on you didn't have to far to reach up and press your lips to his. "Mmm, I'm sure you will." Just then a man, who you assumed to be the captain came out and greeted you. As you climbed aboard the vessel, Sid reluctantly released your hand so that the gentleman could help you board. There was a small crew and they all had wide eyes as they were introduced to Sidney. You could tell they all wanted to either ask for an autograph or photo, but didn't as they were working. They went to work right away getting the vessel ready to push off and head out. Sid took you to the bow of the boat as it slowly moved away from the dock. The sun was just starting its descent but it made for a beautiful picture as it reflected off the water. "Sid, I can't believe you did all this."

 "It was nothing."

 "Stop, you put a lot of time and thought into this and I really appreciate it. This has to be the most magical first date I've ever been on." A cute little blush rose to his cheek, as his arms wrapped around you and pulled your back against his chest as you watched the majestic scenery of Nova Scotia.

 "Well, hopefully, this will be the last first date for both of us." They may have been Sid's words but it was exactly what you were thinking. If you never had another first date in your life, this one would go down as perfect even though it had only just begun, but then it didn't matter what else happened the rest of the night, because this moment right here was everything.

 You shifted in his arms then, so that you were face to face. "I would be one hundred percent ok with this being my last first date, so long as you're taking me on my second, and third, and all those after that." That smile that you loved graced his face, the right side just picking up ever so slightly and you couldn't help but kiss those lips. Your hands glided around his neck as the kiss deepened and you almost forget where you were and that there was probably a crew member watching the two of you. You broke apart, his forehead just leaning against yours as you took a moment to catch your breath.

 "Come on, they probably have dinner ready." You made your way back to the stern where you'd seen the small dining table setup before. Sid held out your chair for you, before taking the one that was on the other side and moving it closer. The round table was set so that you could be across from each other, but the beautiful centerpiece didn't allow you to see each other, so Sid made it so you could. After a second, he grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles. You could tell there was something he wanted to say but then he was interrupted as the chef came out bringing out the first course that he'd prepared.

 The chef brought out crostinis topped with gorgonzola cheese, roasted walnuts, and arugula to start with, which were mouthwatering. Second appetizers followed, with a salad and soup after that before they brought a beef wellington that was absolutely to die for. By the time dessert came, you were so full, you weren't sure you could even have a bite of it. That was until he set it down between both you and Sid for you to share. It was a decadent molten chocolate lava cake, with strawberries placed around it for decoration. Sid grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the dessert, then brought it to your lips to feed you. It was actually super cute and something you never expected him to do. Your lips closed around the spoon, and you closed your eyes at its heavenly taste. "Mmm, that's delicious."

 "Watching you eat it was the treat for me." You smiled then grabbed the spoon out of his hand to feed him a bite. "You're right this is really good." The two of you fed each other a few more pieces before calling it quits because you were both stuffed. "Dance with me?" Sid asked as the music that had been playing softly in the background became a bit more prevalent. You took his offered hand and the two of you swayed around the deck of the boat. The sun was just setting and you would've given anything to have a picture of the two of you dancing in the twilight on the ship. As if reading your mind, Sid pulled away and asked one of the crew members to snap a few shots. You knew they were going to turn out beautifully as shades of pink, yellows, and blues all melded together to cast a glow on the water. You were almost finished when off to the side something caught your eye.

 "Was that?"

 "Whale on the port side," one of the crew yelled out as you saw the splash of water just trickle away.

 "Oh my god, I've never seen one this close before." Your excitement was hard to contain and you found yourself, grabbing Sid's hand and heading toward the left side of the boat to see if you could see it again. You were scanning the water, looking for signs of where the whale was, as Sid wrapped his arms around you to look as well.

 A few of the crew members were up towards the front of the boat, and one of them yelled down that there was a small pod up ahead. The two of you moving effortlessly together to get a closer look. It was then that one of them breached the water, bringing its large body mostly out of the water then splashing back down. You couldn't contain your excitement and were bouncing up and down on your heels; Sid's arm holding you as if he thought you were going to jump in the water with them. "This is amazing," you whispered back to him. There a bright smile on his face, even though he'd probably seen this before many times as a kid, he still shared your excitement. Just then a couple more surfaced their blowholes spraying water everywhere before heading back under the surface of the water. The sky got darker and you watched a little longer, for the whales to again resurface. They did a few more times before you lost sight of them completely. "I can't believe we got to see all that."

 "It was pretty amazing," Sid admitted, then nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

 "I'm so mad I forgot to grab my phone."

 "We can come out another time. This is really the best time of year to see them." He told you. "Maybe we can do a whole day trip or something."

 "Oh, you don't have to rent out this whole boat again just for me to get some pics, Sid." This date was probably costing him a small fortune.

 "I will if it means I get to see you smile like that again."

 You linked your hands behind his neck, drawing him closer to you. "You make me smile like this every day, just by being you." He truly did. You never realized how happy one man could make you just by simply being there. It dawned on you then that you loved this man with your whole heart and you wanted to just shout it from this boat, but then this was technically your first date and well that just seemed really awkward. So, instead, you kissed him, pouring all that love you had into the kiss. You weren't sure how long the two of you stayed like that, just sort of making out while the boat sailed around the water. It wasn't until you shivered from the cold, that Sid broke the kiss to rub his hands up and down your arms.

 "Cold?"

 "At little," you shrugged and he took off his jacket draping it around your shoulder. Immediately, you were engulfed by his heat and reminded of that night weeks ago when he'd walked you back from the restaurant after the whole incident with Christian. This moment was so completely different from then, though that night he'd made you feel so cherished and protected. You still felt all those things right now, only there was so much more and the fact that you loved him just magnified all those feelings.

 "We can go inside if you want."

 "No, I like being out here with you and all the stars around us." Both of you looked up in the sky, millions of stars twinkling in the night. From the moment Sid asked you out, you'd known this date would be perfect, but it even went beyond that. He moved you both to the back of the boat, where you were shielded a bit from the night air. There was a blanket laying on the cushions for your use, and you sat down covering both you and Sid with it as you watched the sky above you. "Thank you for tonight," you whispered over after he had tucked you into his side.

 "You don't have to thank me, (Y/N). I've been wanting to do this for so long now." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before pulling back slightly to look in your eyes. "So, does this mean I get a second date?"

 You pretended to mull it over a bit. "Hmm, I mean this one's not over yet, but if you're asking, then I'm saying yes."

 "Excellent, then I'll have to start planning again."

 You just chuckled before saying, "It doesn't have to be this extravagant you know."

 "We talked about this. I enjoy spoiling you remember?" It was hard to forget the conversation that happened earlier in the day, so you simply nodded your head not wanting to ruin the moment by telling him how unnecessary it was. It was close to eleven when the boat finally docked and you had to bid the captain and crew goodbye. Sid was nice enough to sign a few autographs before you left and take a few pictures. It was definitely a thank you appreciated by everyone on board.

 Finally, back home, Sid came around insisting on getting the door for you before you got out. You found it funny that he didn't park in the garage, but didn't say anything. He laced your fingers together and then walked you to the front door, which seemed a bit odd. "So, I know this isn't a traditional first date, but I thought we could kind of end it somewhat that way." You reached the front door and he unlocked it but didn't open it. "So, I had a really great time tonight," he started to say, both hands now holding yours.

 "Me too."

 "I suppose I don't have to ask you out again since I already did that." You both laughed, knowing that even though you'd agreed to a second date earlier; he didn't even need to ask for your answer would always be yes. After your giggles died down, he leaned in and kissed you. It was sweet and only a tad bit heated as you could tell he was trying to stick to his theme of this being the first date. He broke the kiss first and you found yourself trailing after his lips for just one more touch. "So, I'll call you," he said then squeezed your hands and started to walk away.

 You were slightly confused but recovered quickly. "Hey Sid," you called after he was about five steps away and he looked back at you with the cutest smile on his face. "It's not my house, but would you want to come in for a drink?" He started back towards you.

 "A drink, eh?"

 When he was close enough to you, you grabbed his shirt and hauled him close to you. "Or maybe something else instead." You kissed him hard, letting him know what your idea of something else was. He blindly found the door handle opening it and you both stumbled inside causing you to break apart. "Where were you going?" You asked between kisses.

 He fumbled in his pocket then, grabbing the car fob and locking it. "Was gonna put the car in the garage, but it can stay out." Sid locked the front door then went back to kissing you before scooping you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs. "By the way, thought you didn't normally kiss on the first date?"

 "I'm making an exception." He set you back on your feet once you were in the bedroom. Hands roaming everywhere. You undid the buttons of his shirt before peeling it off and letting it fall to the floor, while his fingers found your zipper, freeing you from the confines of your dress. He pushed the straps off your shoulders and your dress joined his shirt. Sid kissed your neck, working his way to the swell of your breasts. His hands made short work of your bra clasp, as you undid his belt and pants. He kicked them off then laid you back against the mattress, following you down, rolling you both on your sides. Your hands roamed down his back, then up his chest, as if you couldn't get enough of him and the truth was you couldn't.

 "Damn (Y/N), I want you so bad." Sid breathed out, as he lifted your leg over the top of his, flexing his hips into you.

 "I want you to Sid." There was no denying the way either of you felt at that moment. You pushed at his boxer briefs, freeing his cock so you could stroke its length. He hissed in a breath at the contact relishing the feel of your fingers working their magic on him. Sid worked his hand between your bodies and down to your panties, slipping them under the waistband and between your folds. His thumb played with your clit as he pumped two fingers inside of you. You knew that he was teetering on the edge just as much as you were. "I need you inside me." And before you could say anything more, Sid flipped you on your back and stripped you of your panties.

 He positioned himself between your legs then entered you in one smooth motion. "Yes, Sid, yes." You told him as he filled your body. That familiar rhythm the two of you had was almost instant, each of you knowing what movements would set the other afire. As he picked up his pace, you felt the familiar strings of orgasm start to build and soon you fell off that cliff as your climax hit. Sid reached his high at the same time, spilling inside you. The fact that he was no longer wearing a condom made the whole thing that much more intimate. It was that closeness that had you wanting to tell him how much you loved him, but you weren't sure if he was ready to hear that; so instead, you kissed him tenderly, stroking your hands down his back. You weren't quite sure when would be a good time to tell him, but you knew it would be soon; if only because you weren't sure you could hold it back any longer.

[the-iron-orchid]

BOOK II: THE HIGH PRIESTESS

Chapter 1: The Seer  (~2330 words)

Warnings: None

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The landscape is desolate, a place of tawny sands and little else. The sky overhead is oppressive, thick with dark, lowering clouds. Where the two meet, the slim line of the horizon pulses with a viridian glow.

My arms hold fast to Asra’s waist, the scent of his hair in my nostrils. Beneath us, I feel the loping stride of a great beast, shaggy and immense. I realize that I must be dreaming... and in dreams, I have made contact.

“Mast -” I stop and swiftly correct myself. “Asra, where are we?” I ask him. It is only then that I notice the path of shining obsidian before us, snaking ahead to the horizon - clear, and yet ever-changing, its reflection of the sky above further confusing the perception.

Asra says that we are far enough away... but for what?

For answers, he says. For clarity. He senses a terrible storm on the horizon; something is changing, and not for the better.

I am instantly reminded of what the Countess said, her dream-visions of a terrible future, which must not come to pass.

Asra tells me that soon we will reach a crossroads, a nexus, a liminal place. He says that I will make a choice, one that changes everything for me... and for others. I feel his hands over mine, squeezing very briefly. But they are trembling, just a little, and he lets go hurriedly - as if the touch might burn him, or me, if held too long.

A chill wind rises around us, bearing the sands up with it in a vortex. It blots out first the landscape, then the horizon… then everything.

The last thing I hear is Asra’s voice: “Rest now, ya albi. I'll be back soon.”

---

I awaken to late morning sunlight slanting through the small windows - rather later than I wanted to sleep, but it seems that the previous night left me exhausted. I stumble into the kitchen, yawning, and rouse the stove salamander so that I might brew a pot of strong tea. He, too, needs to use his abilities regularly, lest they cause him trouble. If I am to be out, he should have a good round of exercise first.

Over my tea and a scone that has seen better days, I consider what I should bring with me to the Palace - a change of clothing, spell components, my current journal… I’m certain that they will be able to provide me with writing instruments...

It keeps my mind off of my strange dream, and its portents. For now.

Fortified with multiple cups of tea (the scone, not especially improved by toasting, was left out on the doorstep for the pigeons), I pack my things. The bag that Heron made for me is very special - it holds much, much more than it appears to. Then I set about readying the shop for my absence. I dust down the counters, and ensure that the stove salamander has a supply of coke to consume.

I go up to the rooftop to water my plants, such as they are. Heron has a lush rooftop garden that provides us both with herbs and vegetables year-round; I have a planter box full of pretty flowering weeds. But the basil is doing very well in its bucket, and the aloe in its large bowl. There is also a forgotten bean that started to sprout, now residing comfortably in an old mug with no handle. Hopefully I won’t be gone so long that they all wither in the midsummer sun… well, the aloe will survive, I am sure.

When I come back downstairs, I must turn away a few customers, hopeful for a reading. Everyone wants to know what the future holds. 

If only I could ask the Arcana about the past, everything that came before the last three years. Three years of struggle and pain, of learning to be an adult human all over again, after whatever accident or illness took that part of me forever… for the most part. Once in a while, a dim memory will float by, like a distant iceberg on the sea of my mind. To try and grasp such memories is to invite pain and terror, and so I let them go. 

But sometimes, there are things that I know or can do which I did not learn in the last three years with Asra and Heron. I must assume that these come from Before, written so far below the surface of my mind as to escape erasure. I dance fairly well, and I sing better than that. And while Asra and Heron are always cautious in how they teach me, I very often feel that the small, shallow pool of my magic bubbles up from something much deeper, an underground ocean in the caverns of my soul.

It is a place I cannot explore, not even with the seemingly unending patience and help of my teachers. When I have tried, it leaves me bedridden for days, my body unresponsive, my mind a maelstrom of vivid hallucinations. Giants, ghosts, talking animals… a deeper dimension to my relationship with Asra, which is almost certainly wishful thinking on my part.

They tell me that my power springs from something very fundamental and dangerous, the primordial Chaos that underlies creation. By the same token, Heron’s magic springs from the primordial force of Order, and Asra’s from a direct connection to the Magical Realms that lie beyond our own. Each of us is something different, and yet the same.

They both tell me that I’m making wonderful progress, that my power and ability will continue to grow; it simply is not a linear progression. Magic grows in fits and starts and flashes of understanding. 

I hope they are right.

As the day wears on, I must be on my way to the Palace. I thoroughly lock up the shop, tracing the wards on the doors (not that this seemed to help against last night’s intruder). As I am doing this, a sudden prickle down the back of my neck causes me to start in alarm - a huge shape has materialized at my side, seemingly from nowhere.

Eldritch energy immediately crackles around my left hand, but I rein it in - they are doing nothing in particular besides looming, so large that they block my access to the side alleyway entirely. Two glinting eyes watch me from within the depths of a rough hood of furs, draped over a massive body that is crossed again and again with ropy scars. 

I clear my throat. “Er, excuse me… I need to pass through there.”

For a moment, they simply continue to look at me. Then, they shift their weight, and start moving out of the way. There is a strange muffled clanking, as of chains.

“Thank you.” I nod curtly, settle my bag on my hip, and start walking past the large figure.

“He will return. Though uninvited.” The voice is deep, so deep it’s like the thunder of a waterfall. “He will offer you an escape when you need it most. Turn him down, or you will fall into his hand… just like the rest of us.”

I pause at this apparent prognostication. A teller of fortunes, I know a seer when I hear one.

“Take this, or my warning is for nothing.”

I turn back to the person, curious. The light just barely strikes two glimmers of green from within the hood. Pinched between the huge thumb and forefinger is a little leather pouch on a thin cord. Grudgingly, it seems, the figure holds it out to me. I reach a hand out, palm up, and they drop the item into it, as if unwilling to touch.

And without a further word, they turn and shuffle away. Oddly, no-one seems to take notice of the hooded figure, despite their immense size - normally, people would be gawking, pointing even.

How odd. I scrutinize the tiny bag in my palm with my magical sight. It radiates a faint aura of protective magics. I glance up again - but the figure is gone.

The pouch is well-sealed with complex warding knots, and the leather is inscribed with a sigil. Bringing it to my nose, I smell the warm, woody scent of myrrh resin.

Philosophically, I hang the little pouch around my neck. My magical sight shows nothing malicious in it… and I can use all the protection I can muster, I’m sure.

I step into the flow of traffic and noise as I cut my way through the bustling Market, but I hear little of it; I am lost in my own thoughts. Who is the he spoken of by the seer? Julian tried to give me some warning or other about Asra… but I’m not sure I credit that. He seems to have some personal vendetta. Julian himself, perhaps? What more warning could one need about a wanted criminal?

As I climb the steps that lead into the market plaza, a black shape catches my eye - it’s a large raven, perched on one of the lines of colorful lanterns that crisscross overhead. The bird looks back at me with one beady eye, blacker than my own, then croaks and turns its head. I, too, turn my head, following its gaze.

...and my heart stumbles and skips a beat as I spot Julian Devorak, walking through the crowd as if nothing at all is amiss, his face bare to the world... and unblemished. His temple shows no bruising, no hint of a wound where last night he bled.

He hasn’t seen me yet. Half of me wants to flee, but the other half is intensely curious as to how he can walk about so freely, a fugitive from the law. And how has he healed so quickly? 

It is this second half that sends me after him. 

Unfortunately, this means I must move against traffic, and I am not large. I also don’t want to form an obvious eddy in the crowd with my movements. Devorak is making his leisurely way along the market stalls, seemingly without a care in the world. Is he looking to get caught? Wanted posters litter the city, and between his height and that profile, it’s not like he is anonymous in any way. An eyepatch only distracts so much.

The raven gives a sudden shriek, and Devorak turns, our eyes locking for a frozen moment through the crowd.

And then a cart passes between us, causing me to step back involuntarily. When it is gone… so is he, vanished as if he had never been there at all.

I pause, traffic flowing around me, and wonder at my own actions. The man is a wanted criminal, maybe even a killer. Why on earth would I put myself in danger by following him around, no matter how curious I am? Shaking my head at myself, I rejoin the foot traffic, resuming my interrupted journey.

Maybe it was Julian that the giant of earlier was warning me about.

A voice cuts through my reverie, a voice I know. It’s Selasi, the baker, whose stall Asra and I often frequent - one of the small handful of merchants who seem unfazed by us. He asks if I’ve eaten, saying that there are spiced pumpkin loaves fresh out of the oven, almost cool enough to eat. He cajoles me to sit and talk with him in the meantime.

A pot of tea isn’t enough to fuel my day. My stomach rumbles to resentful life as the scent of the spiced bread reaches my nose.

“Well… I can’t stay long,” I tell him. “But I am starving!”

Selasi laughs and waves me to the back of the booth, where I seat myself up against the sun-warmed wall of the building behind.  An enormous orange fluff of a cat appears from under a table, and rubs itself against my side. Absently, I scratch it between the ears.

The baker offers me a steaming cup of tea, asking after Asra. 

“Oh, out on a journey again.”

“Of course! Where to this time?”

“I… don’t know, actually. He didn’t say.”

Selasi frowns slightly. “Really?”

“It seemed really important. Maybe it’s a secret.” I shrug, sipping my mint tea.

The baker folds his arms and shakes his head with a sigh. “Nothing new, I guess. Your Asra on a mysterious journey, that is. But what about you?”

I lift my brows. My Asra, indeed. “What about me?”

He grins widely. “They say that the Countess’s own carriage was spotted here in Center City, late in the night. You can’t miss it, not with all the escorts on horseback. Circling around not far from your shop, even.”

I do my best to cover over my surprise. Selasi loves gossip as much as he loves to bake, and maybe even more. It’s harmless, but I don’t know that the Countess wants her business all over the market.

“Really? I wonder what she was after?” My stomach chooses that moment to let out a long growl, and I laugh. “Me, I’m just after pumpkin bread. I’m a simple creature.”

Selasi laughs, throwing his head back. “Keep your secrets, then, just like your master.” He shakes his head and pulls a fresh loaf from the cooling racks. “One hot for now, and one cool for the road?” he asks, and I nod, giving the cat one last pat before rising and placing my empty cup aside.

Selasi wraps the loaves for me, and I hand over my coin. I place the cooled one into my endless bag before taking a big bite out of the warm loaf. The outer crust has a pleasing bite to it, the inside soft and fluffy, the spices fragrant. “Mmph! Delicioush azh alwayzh! ’ll zhee you lader!” I say around the mouthful of pumpkin bread, waving as I exit the booth.

“Don’t keep the Countess waiting!” he says, almost making me choke on my bite of bread.

I suppose it’s true what they say… the only thing that travels faster than magic is gossip.

[schrijverr]

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 6 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: brief mention of trauma in regards to water.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 6: Garden Daisy Means ‘I Share Your Sentiments’

Alex and Philip played in the park the next day. He pushed Philip on the swings, they tossed a ball back and forth, making Alex feel very stereotypical, so he taught Philip how to make flower crowns from the little daisies in the grass.

Philip was especially excited about making the daisy chains, telling Alex animatedly about making one at school tomorrow: “Yeah, Theo loves flowers, so I’ll make her one, because she is my bestest friend.”

“I’m sure, she’ll appreciate that,” Alex smiled.

“Are you going to make one for Mr. Thomas?” Philip asked.

Alex shook his head: “Probably not, buddy. I don’t think Thomas is much of a flower crown person, but it’s a sweet thought of you.”

“Why?”

“What? I’m going to need more context than that, Pip.”

“Why doesn’t Mr. Thomas want a flower crown?” Philip asked, looking heartbroken about it as he then also asked, “Is a flower crown not a fun gift for your bestest friends?”

“No, no, Pip, it’s a wonderful gift for Theo tomorrow, but are Theo and Thomas really the same?” he tried to do damage control.

Philip thought about it, then said: “No, but they both think my art is the coolest and they like hearing about dinos and Uncle Laf said Mr. Thomas really liked the flowers you gave him and that he was adorable over them, so he must like the flowers. Don’t you think, so Papa?”

“Uncle Laf said what?” Alex was unable to help himself, immediately backtracking, not wanting to involve his kid in that, “Never mind, not important. You make some really good points, Pip,” he had to acknowledge that, but he wasn’t giving Thomas a flower crown.

“I do?” Pip sounded excited about it.

“Yes, you do,” building up self esteem was good, “But Papa is probably not going to do that, because there are no flowers around the office and they will wilt if I make it now,” he wasn’t going to make Philip sad, so hopefully that would be enough.

Philip hummed thoughtfully, then shook off the entire thing: “I suppose you’re right.”

They went home soon after, eating dinner, before Alex read Philip a bedtime story. When Philip had drifted off, he gave him a kiss on the forehead: “Sleep tight, Pip. You’re going places.”

In return Philip snuggled closer into his pillow with a soft sigh. Alex smiled at the sleeping kid, before retreating downstairs, planning to work a bit on his essay about biphobia within the queer community.

He had written a few good paragraphs when his phone buzzed. He picked it up and smiled when he saw it was a message from Thomas: ‘Since you told me that if I wanted to pay so bad, I would have to ask you out and because I said I would, here is me formally asking if you have time next Saturday?

Alex giggled at the wording, before shooting back: ‘dork’

‘me and pip usually hang out on saturdays, but i think hercs free to babysit’

Thomas replied: ‘I was hoping to take you on a picnic, if Philip wants to come and you don’t mind, he’s more than welcome’

That was something Alex hadn’t seen coming. He would love if Thomas and Pip got along and it seemed Thomas was willing to spend time with his son, but he worried that the man had only offered out of guilt.

He took a quick screenshot and send it to Angelic, asking: ‘is this thomas being nice and awkward abt it even though he doesnt mean it?’

After a few seconds, she replied: ‘He wouldn’t lie about shit like that, now reply before he gets anxious about your silence’

‘yes, ma’am’

Alex quickly went back to the chat with Thomas and send: ‘ill ask if he wants to come, but iwould love to take you up on the invitation :D’

‘Good’

‘Talk to you tomorrow?’

‘yeah, see you then’

‘goodnight’

‘Sleep tight, Alex’

Alex sat for a moment smiling dumbly at his phone, looking forwards to tomorrow to see Thomas again as he got up to get ready for bed.

The next day, he quickly put his stuff in his office, before going to the break room, knowing that Thomas would be in soon and meet him there. It always took a few minutes, so Alex busied himself with making coffee, trying not to look at the door.

He was just taking his first sip when Thomas came in. Almost choking he managed to wave as he greeted: “Hi.”

“Hello, be careful there,” Thomas smirked, noticing Alex struggle with the coffee.

“Shove off,” Alex told him, finally swallowing the sip that had betrayed him.

“Nah, don’t wanna,” Thomas shrugged, making himself coffee, “How was your weekend? Did you get terrorized by Lafayette as well?”

“God, he got you too?” Alex asked.

“Naturally,” Thomas replied, “He was at my house first thing in the morning on Saturday, I think he had a notepad.”

“He is such an idiot,” Alex facepalmed.

“You’re telling me,” Thomas laughed.

“But no, my weekend was good,” Alex said after a pause, “I was over at Eliza’s on Saturday, she and Maria were watching Pip and on Sunday me and Pip went to the park. You?”

“Well, on Saturday I hosted Laf, unprepared, but it was alright,” he was not telling Alex he had been draped over the couch, dramatically recounting the entire night like a teenager, “Then on Sunday I read a bit,” and botheredJames about date ideas, which he did not appreciate, before bothering him about what would bea good message to send, which he also didn’t appreciate; he added mentally.

“Are you reading anything interesting?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, I’m reading Frankenstein, just a classic I never got around to,” Thomas answered.

Alex lit up and their conversation went on, discussing the want for bodily autonomy that Mary Shelley as a woman in that era must have had and how that was integrated into the book and how the story of being otheredcould be applied to other minorities today.

The rest of the week sped by like usual. Their lunches together had felt a bit odd at first like it had gained a deeper meaning after the date, but then Thomas had spilled his coffee and Alex had snorted and inhaled a few crumbs, so that had worn off quite quickly.

When Alex had asked Philip if he wanted to come with him and Thomas on a picnic the boy had been beyond excited, which made that easy for Alex.

Now was just the issue of making sure that they had a kite for Pip, the drawing of Mr. Thomas he had made and wanted to give to the man, and sunscreen on as well as a jacket with them, because the weather was mostly good, but there might be winds later on.

Thomas came to pick them up in his car, it was a bit flashy, but the normal amount of flashy for Thomas. Still Alex said: “Hi there, show off.”

“And proud of it,” Thomas just grinned back, before he could say anything more though, Philip came running out of the house, yelling: “Mr. Thomas, Mr. Thomas, do you know how to fly a kite? Will you fly it with me?”

“Wow, calm down, kiddo,” Thomas said to the kid clinging to his waist.

“Sorry, Mr. Thomas.”

“It’s okay, and you can call me Thomas if you want to, you know that, right?”

“But it’s rude to not call people Mister,” Philip frowned.

“Well, it’s okay with me, I am hereby giving you permission to call me Thomas,” Thomas told the kid gently, the whole Mr. Thomas made him feel old.

Philip nodded, then said: “Okay, Uncle Thomas. Do you know how to fly a kite?”

Okay, that was- that was an upgrade that Thomas was unsure of how to deal with, so he just ignored it: “Yeah, I know how to fly a kite. Do you have one?”

“Yes, it’s the bestest one, it gots all the colors of the rainbow on it!” the kid was clearly beyond excited about it.

“Wow, that sounds super awesome, kiddo.”

“What is also super awesome, is car safety,” Alex interrupted them, “I got Pip’s booster seat, do you mind if I put that on the backseat?”

“Of course not, need help?” Thomas answered.

“Nah, I’ve done this before,” Alex grinned.

With Philip’s booster seat firmly in place and the kid buckled in, they got into the car. Thomas holding Alex’s door open with a flourish, making Alex blush as he called him a dork.

“Not a dork, darlin’, just Southern hospitality,” Thomas winked at him, letting his accent coat his words heavily.

And with that he closed Alex’s door and got into the car, driving off in the direction of the nearby park Alex often visited with Pip.

After they arrived Alex got Philip out of the car, while Thomas grabbed Alex’s bag andan actual basket out of the back. When he noticed Alex staring with a raised brow, he shrugged: “You were cliché, so I thought why not.”

“It’s very picturesque.”

“Papa, what is pictuu- pictuu- that word?” Philip asked.

Breaking the eyecontact with Thomas, Alex explained: “Well, sometimes things look just like a picture, they’re put in on purpose to be pretty, like with a drawing. So, we call it picturesque.”

Philip hummed thoughtfully, before he said: “Okay, can I go on the swings?”

“Sure, buddy, but first we go find a spot to sit and maybe eat something, okay?” Alex said, taking Pip’s hand, holding his other out to Thomas with a raised eyebrow.

Thomas took it with a smile, leading them to a spot near the little pond in the park, where a tree provided both shade and an easy marker to find it again if Philip wandered off on his own, which Alex was grateful for.

Out of the basket came a checkered blanket, which made Alex laugh as he and Thomas struggled to lay in down in the wind. But there were also sandwiches, orange juice, brownies, fruit salad and a thermos with coffee.

“Wow, you thought of everything, didn’t you,” Alex whistled.

He got an eye crinkle smile in return as Thomas said: “I try,” before turning to Philip and asking, “What sort of sandwich do you want, kiddo? I got PB and J, ham and cheese and one with chicken and eggplant.”

“May I please have a PB and J sandwich?”

“So, polite,” Thomas commented, handing him the sandwich, “Here you go. Alex?”

“Uhm, can I have one with chicken?”

“Of course, there you are,” Thomas handed him a sandwich, before taking a chicken one as well, nodding a cheers to the others before eating it.

It wasn’t really quiet while they ate, neither Alex nor Philip had a talent for keeping their mouths shut while Thomas was comfortable enough to mix himself into the conversation, either to argue fondly with Alex or to encourage Philip to keep going.

When most of the food was gone, Philip asked: “Can I go on the swings now, Papa?”

Alex checked if the swings were in sight, they were actually quite close and since he was trying to let Pip be more independent, he nodded: “Yeah, just be sure to stay in sight and to come tell me if you’re going somewhere else, okay?”

“Okay, Papa.”

“Can you pinky promise me?” he might be trying to let Pip be more independent, but he still worried about his son.

“Pinky promise,” it was adorable how serious Philip looked while making the pinky promise.

Then Philip skipped off to the swings to play. Alex watched him closely until he got there, then a few moments more just to be sure.

“It’s incredible to see how much you love him,” the comment startled Alex for a moment and he asked: “Wha?”

“Just- you love Philip so much and you can see it every time you two interact,” Thomas explained, “It’s kinda amazing to see. You know, with a big family it wasn’t all that one on one, so seeing how much attention you give him is weird – in the best way of course.”

Alex blushed, no one really every complimented his parenting much, with the trans thing and the single parent and the busy job, most of the PTA moms looked down on him, so it was refreshing to hear: “Oh, uhm, thanks, really means a lot.”

“No problem,” Thomas smiled, “Coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Alex held out his cup and watched it get filled, nodding to Thomas gratefully as he took a sip.

It was quiet for a moment, then a thought popped into Thomas’s head, making him a bit unsure and he asked: “Philip is calling me Uncle Thomas, you okay with that?”

“As long as you are. Pip’s never had a conventional family, I’m not sure he knows exactly what the word is supposed to mean, so he just calls adults he knows well that,” Alex explained, before quickly adding, “If you want him to stop, I can talk to him.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mind – honored, actually – just, you know,checking in.”

“Okay.”

Then it was quiet again. They both stared at the little playground where Philip was now playing tag with a few other kids, obviously done with swinging on the swings.

The sun was out and there were birds in the trees that were chirping, they were sitting on a checkered blanket, nearly completely leaning on one another and Alex was enamored by how picturesque this actually was, even if it had been teasing before.

He remembered Thomas complimenting his date and how relieved and excited that had made him, so he leaned more into Thomas’s side and softly said: “This is pretty amazing, thanks for asking me out again.”

Alex couldn't see it, but Thomas grinned as he replied: “Well, I am glad for inviting you, the company makes it much better.”

“How romantic,” Alex told him, trying, and failing, not to be touched by the comment.

“I try,” Thomas merely replied.

“So,” Alex looked around for something to talk about when he spotted the daisies in the grass and was reminded of his trip to the park with Pip last week, “opinions on flower crowns?”

“What?” Thomas sounded very confused.

He sat up straighter and plucked a few flowers, making a chain and holding it up: “Opinions on flower crowns?”

Thomas laughed for a second, then saw Alex’s face andexclaimed: “Oh my God, you’re being serious.”

Alex laughed too, before schooling his face into a more serious expression: “A trustworthy source told me these are very great gifts.”

“Oh, and who might that source be?” Thomas challenge.

“Well that would be my very own flesh and blood, Philip Hamilton, UncleThomas,” Alex emphasized the title teasingly.

Thomas grinned: “Oh, you should have said so, can’t argue with such an esteemed member of society.”

They both laughed again as Alex plucked more daisies and made a flower crown. It might have been a bit of a joke, but he had never known when to stop and he wasn’t going to start now, so he concentrated on braiding the flowers together while Thomas watched with an amused smile.

“Here, a pretty flower crown, for a pretty boy,” Alex said, handing Thomas the flower crown, taking much delight in how he had a front row seat to a blush blooming over Thomas’s entire face.

Mutely Thomas took the flower crown, mentally trying not to die at Alex’s face and words, which was really hard.

“Well, aren’t you going to put it on?” Alex asked, it was kinda mean to tease at this point, but he couldn't help it when Thomas looked like that.

“Ye- yeah, naturally,” Thomas managed, putting the flower crown on as he regained his bearings, “So, how do I look?” his voice was still a bit squeaky.

“Ah, just like I thought,” Alex smiled, “beautiful.”

“You can’t just say things like that, Alex,” Thomas tried to hide his face.

“Yes, yes, I can. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m kind of known for always speaking my mind and being honest. Can’t help it if it’s true.”

“I hate you.”

“I sure hope that’s not true or this is going to be awkward.”

It was a teasing reply, but both stilled for a moment, before Thomas slowly and softly said: “No, I- I didn’t mean that, you’re- you’re pretty alright.”

“Pretty alright… Hm, I’ll take it,” Alex was smirking, trying to play off the fact that his heart was beating like a marathon runner’s as relief flooded through his veins.

Thomas shoved him over and said: “You’re an idiot.”

“Now that- that I already knew,” Alex grinned, before getting up and looking back to the playground to check in on Philip.

He didn’t have to search much, because the boy was just running their way, yelling: “Papa, Papa, I slayed the dragon.”

“Wow, really buddy? That’s so cool,” Alex caught him as the kid practically tripped into his arms as he gestured wildly while recounting his epic encounter with a dragon and a witch and some fairies who were ‘the coolest, Papa, you should have seen then, they went pow pow and it was so cool.’

Then he spotted Thomas with the flower crown perched on his head and he smiled widely: “Did you give Uncle Thomas a flower crown like I said, Papa?”

“Yeah, I did, Pip. You were right, it was a great gift.”

“I have to agree, you have way better ideas than your Papa,” Thomas budded in.

Philip’s smile widened: “Really? I think so, but Papa is an adult and people always say adults know better.”

“Well, in some instances, adults have more experiences so they can make better decisions, but that doesn’t mean they’re always right,” Thomas said, “Kids can have interesting ideas too. Think of it like painting, experiences are different colors, but you don’t need every color, you can just make a more elaborate picture with more.”

Alex watched as Philip took a moment to think about it, before he nodded in understanding and saying: “So, I may not have all the colors yet, but I can make a good picture?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Thomas was grinning so broadly that Alex was going to loose his mind with how much he adored Thomas and Philip interacting and how fucking cute it was.

Suddenly Philip’s eyes lit up and he said: “Papa, I forgot to give Uncle Thomas his picture.”

“You can give it now, buddy,” Alex told him, reaching over to the bag he brought himself and digging through it.

“My what?” Thomas asked in the background.

“I made you a picture,” Philip was bouncing in place waiting for Alex to find it. When he did, he handed it to Pip, who in turn handed it to Thomas.

“It’s you,” he said, “You’re all purple, because you like purple like me and you have big hair like Uncle Laf and Uncle Herc do, though Uncle Herc’s is smaller and I gave you a book and a laptop ad then I thought planes would be cool, so I added those.”

“Wow, Philip, this is amazing,” Thomas said, “I feel like I should donate it to a museum, but something is missing for that.”

“What?” Philip’s face fell slightly.

“I need it signed, can’t have a masterpiece and forget who made it. What if you get famous? I want to be able to brag that I got an original Philip Hamilton drawing,” he dug around in his pocket and got out the purple pen he used to sign things when he was annoyed at Washington.

Philip took it excitedly, messily scrawling his name at the bottom, before handing it back: “Here, for you.”

“Truly, I’m speechless,” Thomas said, “I’m going to have to frame this.”

“You will?” Philip’s eyes were as big as plates.

“I am a man of my word and I promise,” Thomas told him, holding up a pinky. He had alreadyfigured out that promise meant the most to Philip at this age.

Philip happily interlocked their fingers, before Thomas carefully put the drawing away. Once it was gone, Philip asked: “Can we go kiting now?”

“We first have to put it together if you want to do that, so while I do that why don’t you drink some more juice,” Alex said, already pouring juice in a cup for Pip.

“Thank you, Papa,” Philip started drinking happily.

He struggled with putting the kite together, but luckily Thomas had more experience in putting together kites, citing his big family. So, they had it assembled by the time Philip had finished his juice.

Alex forced Philip to eat a brownie too. It might not be the healthiest, but he wouldn’t let Philip run around on an empty stomach if he could help it.

“I have no clue how to do this,” Alex confessed holding the kite. He had bought it on a whim in the supermarket about twoweeksago. However, he had no childhood memories to draw from on how to do this.

“Fortunately for you, I do,” Thomas said, taking the kite from him, “Here, let me take this.”

Alex gladly gave the task away and watched as Thomas gave Philip the handle of the kite and instructed him on what to do as he threw the kite into the air.

Philip whooped when it stayed up and Thomas cheered as well. Alex took out his phone and sneakily took a picture of the two, before cheering as well.

He flew the kite for half an hour before it went wrong. It was nothing big, just a sudden gust of wind that ripped the kite from Philip’s small hands and carried the kite away from them until it dropped into the water.

They looked at the kite for a second, before Philip turned to Alex with big eyes: “Papa, we have to save the kite.”

Looking at the water, Alex shuddered before he replied: “I’m sorry, Pip, but I can’t retrieve it for you. I think you’re going to have to say goodbye to the kite.”

“I can go get it, please, Papa,” there were tears gathering in Philip’s eyes.

In his mind images of Philip drowning flashed and quite harshly he said: “No!” cringing as Philip startled slightly. In a softer tone, he repeated: “No, Pip. You can’t swim, I’m not letting you in the water, because it’s dangerous and your clothes will get wet.”

“But- but the kite,” Philip argued.

“It was an accident, but we lost the kite,” Alex tried to break the news gently.

They were distracted by Thomas, who said: “I can go get the kite.”

“What?” “Will you do that, Uncle Thomas!”

“No, I can’t ask that of you,” Alex said, “You’ll ruin your clothes and it’s in the water and it might get cold later, it’s too much to ask.”

“I’ll be fine, Alex. Unlike Philip here, I can swim, so it’s fine if I fall. And this isn’t a natural pond anyway,” Thomas explained, “It’s made to trap rainwater so the neighborhood doesn’t get flooded, but because it’s in a kids park, it’s shallower. I don’t think my shorts will get wet.”

“You really don’t have to do this,” Alex pressed again, making sure that Thomas didn’t feel obligated just because Philip would be mildly upset about it.

“I know,” Thomas smiled as he sat down to toe off his shoes and socks.

Before he stepped into the water, he looked at Pip and seriously said: “Can you watch over our spot and your Papa for me while I go rescue the kite?”

Philip nodded, equally serious: “With my life.”

“Good,” Thomas chuckled, then set his first step.

He had been right about the depth of the pond and got to the kite without any difficulties. More onlookers had turned their attention to the water, but Thomas tried to ignore them as he saved the kite.

Returning to the shore he handed it to Philip, who beamed: “Thank you so somuch, Uncle Thomas.”

“No problem, kiddo, though I don’t think we can kite any more with the kite all wet,” he replied.

“That’s okay, I can still swing,” Philip said.

As the kid ran off again to play, Alex turned to Thomas: “Really, thank you, you didn’t have to do it, but thanks.”

“Did you see Philip’s smile? Worth it, really,” Thomas assured him.

Alex smiled, he didn’t think his heart could contain all the affection he had for Thomas in that moment, so he just hugged the man and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Thomas gently touched the spot Alex had kissed before smiling like he was the happiest man on earth, which only made Alex scream more internally.

They returned to their blanket and watched Philip play. After a few minutes of silence, Thomas lightly said: “So, water. Not a fan?”

“Ah, no, not really,” Alex replied, not sure on what to say.

“You don’t have to tell me, just good to keep in mind,” Thomas told him gently.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, just not something I talk about much,” Alex shrugged.

Thomas repeated: “You don’t have to tell me, really.”

“I know,” Alex assured him, “You know how I’m an immigrant, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I come from the Caribbean and uhm- You see, there was this hurricane that hit my island when I was seventeen. It’s- uh, it’s not something I’d recommend living through,” he told Thomas.

“Oh wow, I remember that being on the news,” Thomas felt like he had maneuvered himself into an awkward position. He was bad at comfort, with John he could relate, but here he was way out of his depths.

“It’s okay now, I got over it- mostly,” Alex shrugged, trying to move on, “Just don’t like water or storms that much.”

Thomas nodded, staying quiet. Instead he slung an arm over Alex’s shoulders and let the man snuggle close as he stared off in the direction Philip was in, though Thomas wasn’t sure if he was seeing much, so he kept an eye on the kid just in case.

After a moment, Alex asked: “Do you have one of those brownies left?”

“What? Huh, oh yeah. Here.”

“Thank you, these are amazing.”

“Why thank you, I made them.”

“You did?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not,” a beat, then Alex said, “Well, I am, but it’s more pleasantly surprised than anything else. I didn’t know you baked.”

Thomas was glad for the change in topic and that the atmosphere hadn’t been ruined by his comment. So he replied: “It’s calming, repetitive and you have something nice at the end.”

“Never pegged you to be a stress baker,” Alex commented.

“According to Jemmy it’s one of my more redeeming qualities,” Thomas joked.

Alex laughed: “James is good in pinning people, I’ll take his word.”

“He thought you to be annoying and a dick, so I don’t think you wanna do that,” Thomas raised a brow at him.

“Schematics,” Alex waved his hand, “And in my defense, I was annoying back then, maybe even a bit of a dick, butI just aged like fine wine.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many faces.”

“You’re a dork, that’s what you are.”

“Maybe so,” Thomas smirked, before looking over to the playground again. Philip was going down the slide, before running around with another kid. Thomas said: “He looks like he’s having fun.”

“Yeah, yeah, he does,” Alex agreed, snuggling closer into Thomas’s side.

Thomas planted a kiss on the top of his head and Alex was pretty sure he was one day going to melt out of affection.

Philip stopped running for a moment, to turn to them and wave excitedly. Alex waved back and so did Thomas. Alex couldn't stop the smile on his face, this was nice, so much nicer than he ever thought he was going to get after John’s death.

He send a quick look to the sky, slightly wistful, before fully draping himself over Thomas, earning a not-that-offended offended squawk that he ignored in favor of draping even more until Thomas gave in and let them both topple over.

Alex vowed that he was going to try to hold on to this for as long as possible.

I am not a parent btw, I feel like I should have stated that early, also don’t take this fic as parenting advise. I try to write Good Parent!Alex, but that doesn’t mean it will be entirely, bc, again, no experience in this field.

Btw, Philip not understanding Uncle and Auntie and being over at the other’s houses so much is a concept I love, bc it’s a very queer way to raise a kid. Sure, Alex is his primary care giver and dad and stuff, but a village raises a kid and- ugh, I love found family dynamics.

Also this is getting incredibly fluffy, I was worried this was going to be too dark for me with my other fics, but no within a few chapters the angst has made place for this. Love that for me *gay peace sign*

[megalony]

The Evans boys- Part 5

Here is the next part in my Chris Evans series, I hope everyone will like it, thank you all for the amazing feedback so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series taglist: @ihearthockeyy​ @lizzyclifford13-blog​ @may-machin @tessa-bl @ifilosemyselfagain @shamelessfangirl-3 @boos-ramblings​

Series masterlist

Summary: Chris and (Y/n) have four boys together and are finally expecting a girl, but their family is hectic and things get harder when (Y/n) becomes ill.

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) didn't need to open her eyes to know that it was Chris who had entered the room and who was now sitting beside her, one hand rubbing soothing circles into her lower back as he held her hair from her face with his other hand. He didn't say anything as he sat and waited for her to finish throwing up but (Y/n) could feel the worry radiating off of him.

Last week hadn't been such a good week for them both because (Y/n) hadn't gotten much better since being in the hospital and hadn't managed to eat very much at all. This led to (Y/n) having to stay in for another week but this week had been a lot better. (Y/n) had more energy and was eating better, she felt almost back to her old self, especially since the painkillers were taking away most of the pain from her slipped disc in her back.

With how much better she looked and felt, the doctor was sure she could go home tomorrow and that made (Y/n) overjoyed. She was desperate to go back home and be with her boys again and try to get back to a sense of normality.

"Are you alright?" Chris spoke quietly when (Y/n) sat back up from hunching over the sick bowl, feeling like she had emptied her stomach now.

"Yeah, I've been like this all day." Moving the sick bowl from the bed, (Y/n) leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a few moments. She was desperately hoping that this was just an uneasy feeling that would go away soon so she could still go home tomorrow. If the doctor saw (Y/n) like this and worried then she would make (Y/n) stay in for longer. "How are the boys?" (Y/n) turned her head to look at Chris, hoping he would oblige with the change of topic. She noticed the look in his eyes as he watched her for a few moments before relenting and giving in.

"They miss you, Milo's been sleeping with me and Luca sneaks in too at some point in the night. They're with mum today but they want to come down tomorrow to pick you up."

Chris couldn't help but smile as he spoke, it was normal for Milo to want to stay with (Y/n) and Chris but since (Y/n) wasn't at home he made it his mission to stay with Chris during the night since he claimed there was more room now. Luca on the other hand just wandered in when he thought Chris was asleep and there were the very rare occasions that Charlie and Levi would come into Chris and (Y/n)'s room but that was only to watch tv.

For the last two weeks, Chris had been coming to see (Y/n) everyday, splitting his time between being home with the boys and being at the hospital with (Y/n). He'd bring the boys with him to see (Y/n) every other day so they knew she was alright and could talk to her, especially for Milo's sake because he was only four and he didn't understand why (Y/n) wasn't at home like she always was. Chris knew that (Y/n) was desperate to come home, it had upset her a lot when she realised the hospital weren't going to send her home after a week of being here.

Now that (Y/n) could hopefully come home tomorrow if the doctor said it was alright, the boys were really excited and were all desperate to come down to the hospital tomorrow to pick (Y/n) up.

Moving around, (Y/n) pushed herself so she was sitting up straighter as opposed to laying at an angle which wasn't really helping her back very much.

"What's up?" Chris asked after a while, narrowing his eyes when he noticed (Y/n) kept moving and shifting like she had an itch that she couldn't scratch but her expression showed she was either very uncomfortable or she was in some kind of pain. He knew for a fact that the medication she was on was working for her slipped disc because she had been moving about a lot these past two weeks and she was able to sit and lie down and get up with no pain at all.

"My back hurts, I don't know how to sit." Leaning forward, (Y/n) moved her hand to add a little pressure to her back to see if it would relieve the pain she was beginning to feel but it didn't help. She didn't know how to sit or lay to try and relieve the pain that wasn't too bad but it was noticeable.

Just as Chris was going to say something, he cut himself short when (Y/n)'s hand scrunched up in the bed sheet and her eyes snapped closed. He could see her muscles tensing and pulling tight like elastic bands like she was trying to lock herself in place and become a statue. Chris himself froze, unsure what to do or what to say because he didn't know what was happening or what the sudden problem was.

"Doll, what's wrong?" Chris stood up as he rested his hand on her upper back, not daring to move his hand lower in case he touched any part of her back that was in pain.

"I-... I think my water just broke." (Y/n) didn't dare open her eyes as she spoke, afraid of what Chris' expression and reaction would be. They were only thirty four weeks, (Y/n) wanted to be at at least thirty six or thirty seven weeks before thinking about labour because it would be safer that way. Having their girl now when neither (Y/n) or the baby had been well wasn't the best idea.

Chris didn't think twice before he reached over and pressed the emergency button to get help as he sat down on the bed beside (Y/n) who looked beyond irritated as if the baby had planned this.

"I can't go home now." (Y/n) whispered the words under her breath but Chris managed to hear them. Even if this turned out to be a false alarm or they managed to stop the labour, (Y/n) would still have to be kept in for observation now so her chances of going home were gone.

(Y/n) just knew this wasn't a false alarm, she had done this four times now and that was definitely her water that had broken. With the last two labours they had been rather quick and swift so there was no doubt that it would be the same this time around. (Y/n) didn't want this to drag out like it had done with Levi where she'd been in labour for almost two days, she couldn't go through the pain for more than a day, not with how her back was already beginning to burn.

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"Can't you give me something else to take the pain away, please?" (Y/n)'s watering eyes locked with the midwife who was perched on the edge of the bed but when she shook her head with a saddened look, (Y/n) let a sob bubble past her lips.

"You're already on a monitored dose of morphine-"

"Well it's not working." (Y/n) bit back in a volatile yet powerless tone before she let her head fall back against the pillow, looking like her neck had suddenly broken and snapped backwards. The pain never got lesser or was something that (Y/n) could get used to but it was always a little but easier to deal with each time. It was easier to push through the pain and know when to push and how to breathe and what position felt easier or more comfortable. It was always easier when the time of labour got shorter with each birth, the shorter it was the better (Y/n) felt.

But this time it did not feel easy and the pain was worse than what she remembered from when she had the boys. Her lower back was ignited with pain to the point (Y/n) couldn't even feel her legs, they didn't feel numb or full of pins and needles, they just felt like they weren't attached to her body anymore. The midwife could stab her leg with a needle and (Y/n) wouldn't have felt a thing.

(Y/n) could barely feel the contractions anymore from how much pain her back was in. The baby had to be pressing on (Y/n)'s slipped disc or be very close to it for the kind of pain that (Y/n) was feeling which the morphine couldn't take away. She was desperate to have any form of pain relief but the midwife wasn't allowing her to have anything else and it was physically crippling (Y/n).

"The head's almost born now, this will all be over soon and then we can give you something to make sure the pain stops." The midwife patted (Y/n)'s leg but she couldn't feel the touch and her words weren't as calming as the midwife seemed to think.

(Y/n) tried to straighten out her back but the moment she was lying flat on the bed her chest seemed to convulse and she had to push her back up so her back wasn't pressed against the mattress and to keep her spine curved rather than straight. Reaching a shaking hand up, (Y/n) covered her eyes to try and stop the tears from falling but she couldn't stop them from escaping, nor could she stop the sobs that wracked from her lips.

"Doll, lying down isn't gonna help, let's sit you up and get you comfy cause you're so close now. You know exactly what you're doing here, it'll be over in half an hour." Chris gently leaned his temple against the side of (Y/n)'s head as he hovered his lips over the shell of her ear. He felt to the point of tears himself because (Y/n)'s pain was crippling him when he knew there was nothing he could do to help.

"I can't... I n-need the pain to stop." (Y/n) didn't care anymore, she let the tears run down her face and her cries to break her words apart because the pain was excruciating. Her back was overpowering everything else to the point it wasn't the labour that was hurting anymore, she could have sailed through this labour with no problems if her slipped disc had recovered or never have happened in the first place.

Lowering her hand, (Y/n) dared to open her watering eyes and look over at Chris who was sitting on her left, his own eyes glossing with unshed tears.

"Yes you can, you're so close now doll." Moving his arms, Chris slowly wrapped his arms around (Y/n) before he eased her so she was sitting up instead of lying down which was only going to add more pressure onto her back which she didn't need. The moment he got (Y/n) sitting up, he moved so he was sitting on the bed just behind her, allowing her to lean back into him as he kept his arms around her.

A sob escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she snapped her eyes closed and leaned forward to try and see if it would help. She leaned her head to the side, burrowing her face into Chris' arm as she grabbed his hand tightly in hers. Every part of (Y/n) started to shake and she could feel the sweat sticking to her skin like a second layer that she wanted to scrub away.

When the head was born, Chris curled his frame around (Y/n)'s, pressing his head into her neck and kissing the skin as he held her a little bit tighter to try and calm her down. But he knew his touch wasn't going to be enough to make (Y/n) forget or come to grips with the pain that she shouldn't be going through.

"Almost there, doll."

"One last push for me (Y/n), and she's here."

(Y/n) felt like her mind was a tv and the signal was cutting out causing breaks and pauses in the audio that she was listening to. Chris and the midwife's voices seemed to cut out and turn to white noise like her ears had tuned out of the station as she focused on letting her body do what it had done four times before but she felt overwhelmed and controlled by the pain.

She didn't realise she'd started to cry rather badly until she heard Chris quietly humming in her ear to calm her down. (Y/n) dug her nails into Chris' hand to try and ground herself as she tried her best to hold her breath until her breathing calmed down and her heart no longer felt like it was going to combust or break free from her chest. When she managed to open her eyes and concentrate her blurring vision, (Y/n) realised another midwife had come into the room and was holding their girl in her arms.

"I- is she b-breathing?" (Y/n)'s voice was meek and quiet but her eyes were focused on watching the midwife who was stood close to the couple. Their baby on one of her arms as her other hand focused on rubbing the newborn's chest.

"She's breathing but not very well, she's in shock." The midwife began switching from rubbing the newborn's chest to rubbing forceful circles on her back to try and get her lungs to open up and take a proper breath.

When the newborn finally managed to take in a proper breath it was croaky and sounded very desperate like she was a fish gasping for breath out of water. Small coughs escaped her pale blue lips and she started to move, but Chris could clearly see the very small newborn was subtally shaking.

"I'm going to go and clean her up and let a doctor check her over since she's still in shock but I'll bring her back as soon as she's okay." It wasn't as if she was giving the parents very much choice before she slipped out of the room with their first girl in her arms. Chris felt (Y/n)'s chest quake and her breathing change like she was trying so hard not to scream or burst into a fit of sobs. She was in agony but she still wanted to hold her baby girl and take a first look at her. They always got to hold the boys before they were taken to get cleaned up and weighed.

"Alright (Y/n), if we can get you laying on your side I'll give you a steroid injection for your back."

(Y/n) felt like being rude and asking why she couldn't have had that an hour earlier when she had almost passed out from the pain but she didn't hold the energy to fight with the midwife or to even talk at all. Her tear stained face was full of pain and desperation to have her baby in her arms but her expression didn't change or show relief at the midwife's words.

Her eyes locked with Chris' for a few seconds before he slowly moved off the bed, keeping his arms around (Y/n) so he could help turn her gently so she was laying on her side before he eased her so she was laying down instead of laying on him. Chris bit his lip at the sharp intake of breath and the whimper (Y/n) let out when she was laid down and he watched the way her breathing increased and her eyes closed for a few seconds. But once her back stopped pulsing and seemed to relax, (Y/n) opened her eyes again to see Chris was sat down in the chair that was pulled as close to the bed as he could manage.

Chris took her hand in his own and pressed his temple up against hers, forcing a smile to try and keep (Y/n) calm.

"This won't hurt for too long and it should act fast." The midwife's voice was calm as she stood on the other side of the bed behind (Y/n) and slowly pushed the needle into her lower back. Both Chris and the midwife were surprised at how calm (Y/n) was considering the needle was going into her spine, (Y/n) didn't flinch or jerk or try to pull away and Chris saw how her expression hardly changed, if a little wince here and there.

When the midwife finished, she set the needle down before she looked at (Y/n)'s back again and started adding light pressure to the columns between her spine. "Do you feel any numbness in your lower back?"

"A little, it's more my legs that feel numb." (Y/n)'s voice was quiet and she clearly sounded tired and rather fed up. Her body couldn't stop shaking from both the shock and the blinding pain and she felt dizzy but she knew that was normal. (Y/n) had gone through this enough times to know what was a normal reaction and what wasn't.

"Is that bad?" Chris lifted his head up so he could lock eyes with the midwife, his eyes full of desperation for this not to be a sign of something else that was wrong. (Y/n) didn't need any more problems or pains or complications and he didn't think he could handle anything else.

"Not necessarily, the slipped disc might be pressing on a nerve or it could just be a reaction to the morphine and the labour. We'll monitor you every few hours just to be sure." Her voice didn't sound too concerned which was a relief to both of them. The slipped disc should be almost healed but the baby and the labour could have caused it to press on a nerve which was a bad thing. But it could just be because of the labour or the different medications (Y/n) had been on over the past two weeks that were reacting.

The midwife did a few more checks before she was satisfied and left the couple to have a few moments alone.

"You did it, doll. I'm so proud of you." Chris slowly and methodically carded his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair, brushing it out of her eyes before he leaned over and stole a quick kiss from her lips. (Y/n) managed to smile when he pulled back but her eyes were glossing with tears again.

"I want to see her."

"I know, they'll bring her to us soon, I promise."