#Glad I’m not alone in my misery

[moltengoldveins]

oh good bill and veil are enabling my cursed awful thoughts. I think All Might and Stain would be actually the best weird codependent hot nonsense in the history of ever. It could be Queerplatonic. Or they could bang ig. I don’t really care about that as much as I care about them yelling at one another about idealism and corruption. Specifically if AM were to get himself a freaking support system and enough awareness to realize that his efforts to prop hero society up are causing more problems in the long run, and Stain were to work with a few other heroes like and realize indiscriminate murder is bad, I think it would be Neat.

like. The “I save everyone with a smile” mentality is so deeply concerning when you think about it. And the affect it has on the MHA universe’s culture and attitude of “oh it’s ok, I don’t need to take responsibility, All Might can handle it” is terrifying. Plus I absolutely adore when The Paragon Hero realizes that they’ve been going about supporting their ideals all wrong, do a heel turn, and walk firmly into the morally grey area, still firmly upholding every ideal they’ve supported this whole time. Same thing as when a villain does that and becomes tangentially a good guy. So we have AM corruption to secret vigilante + Stain redemption to very public vigilante all while neither of them ever actually change their moral codes. 10/10 no notes.

anyway the way I think this’d go down is that AM realizes just how badly his image has affected society when he realizes the extent of Izuku and Katsuki’s horrible childhoods and starts working in his off hours with underground heroes and vigilantes, coming to terms with how messed up the system really is and sacrificing his pristine perfect pillar of self-perception he maintains in his own mind because he can’t afford to keep it and still do what needs doing, especially now that he can’t be Big Might all day. Aizawa helps. Aizawa isn’t sure exactly how to take this new All Mignt who apparently agrees with him a lot more, but he’s surprisingly good at lying when his moral code demands it and having backup that can punch through walls is always a win. Aizawa finds himself friends with a man who regularly appears on television. Again. Aizawa hates his life just a little bit more.

Anyway Stain is watching from the sidelines in Actual Horror as his symbol of Justice does something so base as…. pretend to be a criminal to break up a trafficking ring? He’s got issues we already know this. Stain can’t handle the disruption to his worldview and kicks up a fuss. Tbh he probably murders a pedophile to lure AM out to fight or smthn. They argue while fighting about it. Then they beat one another up enough that AM feels bad about it and offers a break to get some medical attention. They are still arguing. They end up in a coffee shop. They order coffee. They are still arguing.

Izuku goes on patrol with AM a few months later and Stain shows up like “hey babe. Killed that crime lord who was trafficking kids that I know you wouldn’t’ve killed. Didn’t attack any heroes in the past six months other than Endeavor cause you said he was ok. You should be proud of me. You should introduce me to your kid.” And then whoop what do you know, now they’re arguing in front of their kid. Stain sees how poorly AM is at teaching his protege and kicks up a fuss about THAT so now Izuku is doing the weird martial equivalent of spending every other weekend and Christmas with his mentor’s freaky murder boyfriend. He learns how to Stab. He tries really hard to pretend he doesn’t love it but we all know Izuku is a bigger freak than anyone else in that classroom he’s having a BALL. Shiggy doesn't even have a Chance.

Eventually Inko gets her hands on Stain and from that point on it’s over, he’s being de-feraled if she has to pull each individual piece of dirt from his skin by hand. He and AM argue indoors over home cooked meals now. Izuku is completely confused. Bakugou sees it happen one (1) time and recognizes The Way His Parents FlirtTM and books it out of there with Izuku as fast as his legs can carry him, he has No Interest in whatever the heck they’re getting up to.

It’s also important to me that you know that Inko adopts Aizawa and Nighteye in this timeline, without either of their consent. All Might is too busy feeling Noble Guilt about finding a murderer attractive to notice that Nighteye has put on twenty pounds and lost the Gucci eyebags. Stain is too busy coming to terms with the fact that murder might be wrong actually to notice that he’s showered every day for the last six weeks and he smells like Pine-Sol. Meanwhile the near-ungodly levels of power that regularly meet under one Inko Midoriya’s roof are enough to rip through AFO, reveal every piece of corruption in the Hero Commission, and adopt most of the LoV all in time for Christmas.

….. why is everyone so quiet you know I’m right-

does anybody want to know my horrible awful cursed Otp. It’s so disgustingly out there despite being two characters from the same media who have interacted that there aren’t any non-porn/non-crack related fics for it on Ao3 and if you count those, it’s under 50. I have so many thoughts about them. I think they would make one another worse /pos.

[hotshotsxyz]

buck, eddie & the great comet of 2024

(buddie) (1.1k words) for and inspired by @moonlightperseus who said, and i quote, "do you think he would break down crying in bucks arms out in the middle of nowhere under the stars". yes. yes i do.

There’s something to be said for wallowing, Eddie thinks. It’s hard to make any new mistakes, for one, and it’s far less labor-intensive than any of the alternatives. So yeah, maybe he’s wallowing a little bit, but it’s not like he needs to be saved from himself.

He says as much to Buck, who immediately rolls his eyes.

“I’m not saving you, I’m kidnapping you,” he says.

“Maybe I don’t want to be kidnapped,” Eddie replies. He settles further into the couch to make his point.

Buck frowns. “I don’t think the kidnap-ee really gets a say in it,” he says. “Anyway, you’re not going to make me go alone, are you?”

 “To what?” Eddie asks. “You haven’t even told me where we’re going.”

 Buck’s eyes light up like he’s won something. Eddie replays the last few seconds of conversation in his head and groans.

“Come on, do you trust me?” He asks, and it’s not even really a question. Or, if it is, Buck knows the answer just as well as he does.

“Fine,” Eddie sighs. “I’m picking the music, though.”

Buck grins. “Deal.”

Just to fuck with him, Eddie starts their drive with the most depressing song in his library.

Buck snorts as soon as he recognizes it. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“I’m being kidnapped,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I can be mopey.”

“Yeah, but… Trading Yesterday mopey?”

His nose wrinkles and Eddie can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah, Trading Yesterday, Amber Run— sure you don’t just want to leave me to my misery?”

“Nah, I always want you around,” Buck says, a little too soft, a little too sincere to be anything but the truth.

Eddie’s breath catches in his chest. “Okay,” he says. He tries to ignore how raw it feels as it leaves his tongue.

“Just add some Death Cab for Cutie for me,” Buck teases.

Eddie huffs something close to a laugh and adds Transatlanticism to the queue.

By the time Buck turns onto Angel Crest Highway, Eddie’s given up on trying to work out where they’re going.

“You know, I thought you were joking about the kidnapping,” he says.

“Oh no, I take my kidnapping very seriously,” Buck says, glancing over.

Eddie laughs, and then his stomach growls. “Any chance your plot includes snacks?” He asks.

The corner of Buck’s mouth quirks up. “What kind of kidnapper do you take me for?”

“The kind that’s trying to Stockholm Syndrome me, clearly,” Eddie drawls.

“Is it working?” Buck asks. His eyes are alight with mirth, and not for the first time Eddie finds himself a little distracted by them.

He hums an affirmative. “You’ve got me right where you want me.”

“Alright,” Buck says. “We’re here.”

Here is, seemingly, a random scenic overlook. In the distance, the sun is slowly sinking below the horizon.

“And we’re… watching the sunset?” Eddie guesses.

“Nope,” Buck says. He pauses and tilts his head to the side. “Well actually, yeah, I guess we are. But not just the sunset!”

“So…” Eddie prompts.

Buck rubs at the back of his head. “It’s, uh— do you remember that comet I told you about a few months ago?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he does. It’d been while they were on shift, a slow one if Eddie remembers correctly. Buck had excitedly shown him a NASA article and said that he was putting it in his calendar for—

For Chris.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes.

“Is— is that okay?” Buck asks.

Eddie closes his eyes and tilts his head back. “Yeah,” he says, a little rough. “I just wish…”

“Me too.”

A familiar wave of guilt crashes through Eddie’s chest. It’s just one more thing on a long list of things Chris is missing out on because of him.

“I’m still glad we’re here,” Buck says, taking Eddie’s wrist in his hand.

Eddie feels a little nauseous when he realizes he is too.

Buck packed them an entire dinner to eat while they wait for the comet to become visible on the horizon. If Chris was here, Buck probably would’ve brought a few camp chairs for them to use, but as it is they sit on the floor of the Jeep’s cargo space, legs dangling past the rear bumper. It’s a little chilly in the mountains; Eddie appreciates the long line of warmth that is Buck’s body pressed against his, shoulder to knee.

In hushed tones, Buck tells Eddie everything he knows about Tsuchinshan-ATLAS, which is, apparently, the comet’s name. He describes its origin in the Oort Cloud, and how it survived a seemingly deadly trip around the sun.

“It won’t be back for another eight hundred centuries,” Buck says breathlessly.

Eddie loves him like this. He loves the curiosity that emanates from him in waves, and the way he seems to have absorbed every little fun fact he’s ever read. He loves the way Buck glows when he shares his knowledge with anyone lucky enough to be in his orbit. He loves—

He loves Buck.

And that’s—

It’s—

Oh.

Of course he does.

The comet makes its appearance forty-five minutes after the last rays of the sun dissipate into inky blue.

“There,” Buck says, pulling Eddie toward the guardrail and pointing at a tiny streak of light in the sky.

All at once, Eddie is desperately sad. He’s here and Buck’s here but Chris isn’t, and it’s not supposed to be like that. It’s supposed to be the three of them together. It’s supposed to be Buck and Chris bouncing fun facts off each other, and Eddie watching fondly as the two people he loves most in this world revel in the joy of sharing a new experience. It’s supposed to be their family, their whole family.

Buck turns to him, like he’s somehow sensed the sudden shift in Eddie’s mood. He offers him a small, sad smile.

“I, uh, I reminded Chris about the comet this morning,” he says quietly.

Eddie takes a shaky breath.

“He should be seeing it too, right about now,” Buck continues. “I know it’s not… but—but we’re looking at the same sky.”

An overwhelming mix of sadness-gratitude-guilt-joy-sorrow-love hits Eddie square in the chest. “You…” he whispers.

Buck bites his lip. “I just… I thought you’d want to know,” he says.

Out of nowhere, a sob bursts from Eddie’s chest. In an instant, Buck’s arms are around him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I can’t fix it.”

Eddie tucks his face into Buck’s neck, and for the first time since the night Christopher left, he lets himself cry.

Buck holds him until the comet is far beyond the horizon.

[farfromharry]

new year, new man 🏎️ ln4

Summary: you meet Lando for the first time after being dragged to a new year’s eve party. safe to say you didn’t hate this new year as much as the rest.

W/c - 1485

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You were far from a fan of celebrating the new year. It wasn’t much of a holiday for you, rather than a period of a couple days that made you sad. You spent too long focusing on how it felt like time was moving too fast and you were getting old and by the time midnight arrived you’d successfully brought down everyone else’s moods.

For that very reason you were planning to stay home and mope in your room to greet 2024. But it seemed your friends had other plans.

“I don’t want to go to a party,” you huffed.

The brunette at the end of your bed rolled her eyes. “And I told you, I don’t care what you want, you’re going.” She tossed a dress at you and stood there expectantly.

From out in the hallway you could hear one of your other friends calling for you. “Come on, Y/N, it’ll be fun.”

You knew there was nothing you could do. They wouldn’t leave unless it was with you following behind them. Part of you was warmed by the fact they wanted you around, but another part of you was irritated that they couldn’t just let you be in your misery. You wished you would have been more stubborn.

An hour or so later and you were stepping into a complete stranger’s home where a party was in full swing.

A drink was quickly passed into your hands and within minutes you were left alone sitting in a quiet corner. Your friends had failed to let you know that this party was being hosted by a friend of theirs, with some of their other mutual friends in attendance. Maybe you would have put up a bigger fight if you’d have known you wouldn’t know anyone here and yet they would know everyone.

It was awkward, you standing there, drink in hand and eyes darting around the place at all the strangers. You must have looked so out of place.

“Do you mind if I join you?” A voice startled you out of your daydream. You were getting ready to turn them away when you locked eyes with one of the most attractive men you swore you’d ever seen. Your heart began to beat a little faster. “All the other seats are taken by couples basically swallowing each other. Figured this is the least awkward place to sit.”

You managed to laugh, like a real laugh. You were surprised that a random guy had managed to make you feel even slightly happy for the first time tonight.

“No, you’re fine. I sat here to get away too.”

It was silent for a brief moment and you cursed yourself for being so antisocial.

“Not enjoying the party?” he asked.

You perked up at the chance to talk to him again. “Uh, not really. Unless it’s your party, then it’s great. I’m having so much fun.”

He chuckled. “It’s not my party. Friend of a friend. I don’t really know anyone here.”

There were butterflies in your stomach. Could this man get any better? “Me either.”

He seemed pleased by that, like he’d needed to know he wasn’t alone in feeling awkward and uncomfortable in order for it to dissipate. “Well now you know me.” He held his hand out for you to shake. “I’m Lando.”

You smiled. “Y/N.”

The pair of you were only talking for a short while when he was approached by a clearly drunk man. “Lando Norris!” Was all he said, rather cheerfully, shaking hands with the man beside you. Lando smiled, nodding to the stranger before he left.

You watched the interaction with a furrowed brow.

“I thought you said you didn’t know anyone here?”

He looked at you with a shy grin. “I don’t. I have no idea who that was.”

The revelation made you laugh, louder than it probably should have, but you would blame the alcohol for that one. He quickly joined in, the 2 of you trading giggles in a secluded corner as everyone partied around you.

When your laughter died down and you wiped a few stray tears, you took a long look at Lando. “I’m actually really glad I came tonight.”

He took that to mean you were happy to have met and spent your time with him. “Me too. Maybe we could do this again sometime, but in an environment we both like. Somewhere quiet, like dinner?”

“I think I’d like that.”

Going into the new year it looked as though you’d be getting a shot at love, or at the very least a nice, new friendship. Maybe new year did bring good things sometimes.

As you noticed the minutes ticking closer to midnight and the party getting rowdier, you ached to convince Lando to move somewhere that wasn’t right in the middle of the busy crowd. You were unsure if he would, given that the atmosphere would change so drastically, but what was the harm in asking.

He looked at you as you stood from your seat, worried that you might be about to present him with an excuse to leave early.

“Come with me,” you instructed, holding your hand out for him to take. He eyed it, feigning hesitance.

He hummed. “I don’t know. My mum’s always telling me about stranger danger.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on.”

Lando didn’t waste another second, slipping his hand into yours and allowing you to blindly lead him through the maze of people. He didn’t expect you to take him outside into the garden where it was much quieter. There was no one out here but the 2 of you and a couple stray drunk people.

“Much better,” you sighed. “I finally feel like I can hear myself think.”

As the moonlight fell upon you he believed you looked even more beautiful than you had inside. He was slightly in awe. His daze was momentarily broken when he noticed you shiver, the cold chill of the December air being unforgiving to your bare skin. There was only one thing that would be right for him to do as the gentleman his mother raised.

“Here, take my jacket.”

Your mouth opened to protest but the stern look he gave you told you he wasn’t willing to hear any of it. So instead you let him place it over your shoulders, his warmth and scent immediately making your body heat up to a comfortable temperature.

“Thank you.”

He brushed it off. “Not a problem.”

Now that there was no overly loud background chatter from those inside, a lull in conversation meant things got awkward, fast. Or at least on your part. You weren’t sure what you could say now and that led you to a panic about whether he was thinking about how silent you were being.

In reality, he was working up the courage to ask if he could kiss you. In the end it was the lack of time to deliberate that led him to just blurting it out.

He was afraid you’d be mad, considering you hadn’t met that long ago, but actually you were just happy he’d pulled you out of your nervous thoughts— even if his question gave you nerves for a whole different reason.

“Would it be presumptuous of me to ask if I could kiss you at midnight?”

You pretended to think it over, taking a step closer to him so that your fronts were pressed together. His eyes were rapidly looking over your features. Between your eyes and your lips, like he couldn’t make his mind up about where he wanted to focus. In the end he settled for your eyes.

“I might be persuaded.”

And then the countdown began.

As the clock struck midnight Lando made his move and closed the gap between the 2 of you. His large hand on your jaw was more or less guiding you through the sweet kiss, a gesture which made your knees even weaker than they already had been.

The cheers of the party inside were what brought the 2 of you back to the present.

Your face burned as you eyed the crowd, wondering if any of your friends had noticed you sneaking off with the handsome stranger to steal a kiss. You hoped they didn’t, because truly you wouldn’t be able to escape the mountain of questions they’d have for you.

He must have noticed you were slightly distracted, taking the initiative to gently guide your gaze back to him. The corner of his mouth curved upwards when your eyes met.

“Happy new year,” he mumbled, brushing his nose lightly across yours. It was a tender move for a man you’d met only a short hour ago.

You beamed, maybe you’d get the chance to know him a little more this year. “Happy new year.”

It looked like 2024 was already going to be a good year.

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[wannab-urs]

Welcome Home

Summary: You swear this time you’re done with Frankie Warnings: mild angst Rating: G A/N: This is my entry for Joy in @fanfictionoverload’s Seasons of Life Challenge. I skipped book yesterday, but I might come back to it later. 

Frankie Morales Masterlist | Masterlist | Prompt Fills | AO3 | Kofi | Seasons of Life Masterlist

You’d expected to be angry or at least disappointed. You thought that when this time came, you’d be prepared to leave him for good. That you wouldn’t let him keep doing this to you, over and over. 

Every time Pope called, Frankie went running. It didn’t matter how many times he promised you he wouldn’t, when Santi called him with a job it was always “Just this last one, baby. We need the money.” And you did need the money, with your daughter on the way, so you let him go. 

You had a whole speech prepared this time, ready to tell Frankie you were done. Ready to commit yourself to being a single mother, ready to give up the sweet man who took care of you so well. The pain and misery you felt when he left you alone was not worth it. 

But when he walked through that door, clean shaven and wearing a hideous floral shirt, but alive… you felt nothing but joy. You rushed to stand from the couch and wrapped him in a bone crushing hug. 

“Frankie, baby. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too, hermosa. You have no idea.” He looks stricken, and you wonder what horrors he faced on this job. You’re just so happy he made it back to you in one piece.

“So… was that the last one?”

“Yeah, baby. It was.” 

[thicccshady]

Stupid Shit🥃

Eminem X Reader

✨️MasterList✨️

Content: Confronting Alcohol Abuse, Cursing

Curled up on the cold bathroom floor, I rolled my eyes as the phone continued to ring. The alcohol buzzing through my system made my head feel heavy and light all at once. When I needed him most, Marshall didn’t pick up his fucking phone. As the electronic beep pierced my ears, I drew in a shaky breath, unsure where this voicemail was going.

“Hey… Marshall. Please, I think I need you right now. I’m really fucked up and everyone else has left.” The somber reality of my situation crashed down on me as hot tears began to form. “Can you please pick up the fucking phone? You told me if I needed anything… fuck you, Marshall.”

I hung up and froze as the regret of that night started creeping in. Strategically, I propped myself up, but fuck, the world was moving too fast. Clutching the toilet seat, my stomach seemed to empty everything I had ever eaten. Gasping from my stomach’s betrayal, I tried to refocus. Through tears and a foggy vision, Marshall’s contact photo popped up. I groaned. He had great timing. Slowly, I started cleaning myself up. I knew this was disgusting, but honestly, I couldn’t grasp how disgusting it actually was.

Using the walls to stabilize myself, I stumbled into my bedroom. Oh, fuck, I loved my bed. It was so soft. Feeling the sheets with my fingers, I realized I wasn’t sure when I had face-planted onto it. I groaned, burying my face into the pillow as the faint vibration of my phone echoed in the other room. It hadn’t stopped since Marshall’s name first appeared, and now the sound seemed to drill into my already throbbing skull.

“Stop fucking calling me now,” I muttered, too drained to lift my head, let alone face him. But the persistent buzz eventually became impossible to ignore. With a huff, I pushed myself up and staggered back to the bathroom floor. My trembling hands struggled to swipe the screen.

“What?” I barked, my voice coming out a tad more aggressive than I meant it to be.

“What the fuck is going on, Y/N?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the haze in my mind. “You leave me some drunk-ass voicemail about how you need me, and now you won’t pick up? What the fuck is happening?” The audio degraded as he talked, and I could hear the sounds of a highway.

I pulled the phone closer to my ear to concentrate. “Are you in the car?”

“Yes, Y/N! Where are you?”

His tone was stern and maybe even concerned. His voice sobered me a little. I did my best not to sound pathetic as I murmured, “My bathroom floor.”

The silence between us was painful as Marshall’s ride played through the phone. His voice was quieter this time but still urgent. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I nodded, holding my head, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, no. I’m fine. I just—”

“Why the fuck did you call me?” Oh shit. Never mind, he was mad.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d actually pick up…” Somehow, I felt even more pathetic. I stared up at the dark ceiling, tears blurring my vision again.

Marshall exhaled sharply, the sound crackling through the speaker. I could practically feel his frustration radiating through the phone. “Well, I fucking did… Look, I’m almost there.”

“What? Where? What do you mean ‘almost there’? I didn’t tell you to come over!” I sat up a little too fast. Instant regret.

“Y/N, don’t try to argue with me. I’ll be there in, like, five minutes. Unlock the door. Is the door locked?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I looked around the room for an answer. Not finding one, I lied, “Yep.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when I make it. Don’t do anymore stupid shit.”

He hung up, and my stomach twisted—not just from the alcohol still swirling inside me, but from the sheer vulnerability of the moment. I wanted to call him back. Protest, tell him to turn around and let me wallow in my misery alone, but a small, desperate part of me was glad he was coming. Another part of me was glad anyone was coming. Peering at the tally marks on my arm, I became nauseous. I drank so much that I had to mark my arm to remember… damn.

The cold tile against my cheek made me forget about everything else, wrapping me into itself as I traced the grout. My eyelids were heavy as I focused on nothing at all. Blinking, a primal need to focus on my breathing overcame me. If my thoughts deviated, I would die. My heartbeat echoed through my limbs. Gathering myself, I tried to stand, but the weight of my body against the cold bathroom tiles felt like an anchor. The faint, rhythmic pulse between my head and the cold bathroom floor was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. My stomach had long since emptied itself, but the nausea wouldn’t let up. The room spun relentlessly, becoming more and more distant.

“Y/N?” Marshall’s distant voice barely broke through the buzzing in my ears.

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My head lolled to the side as I tried to focus on him, but the room kept moving, and my body felt foreign.

Marshall's footsteps cut through the fog like a lifeline. “Y/N,” he said again, louder this time, his voice taut with urgency. He crouched down next to me, his hands warm and firm as they cupped my face. “Hey, come on. Fucking look at me.”

I tried. God, I tried, but my eyes wouldn’t fucking stay still, wouldn’t focus. The spinning hadn’t stopped. “I’m fine,” I murmured, though it didn’t sound convincing, even to myself.

“Bullshit,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to penetrate my haze. His eyes scanned me, his expression a mix of anger and fear. “What did you take? Did you mix anything?”

I shook my head weakly, then groaned as the movement made the spinning worse. “Just… drank too much.” My words slurred together, and I hated the way I sounded—weak, broken, goddamn pathetic.

Marshall sighed, his hands steadying me as he sat me up against the wall. The motion made my stomach churn, and I gagged, but nothing came up. “Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered, grabbing a towel from the sink and dampening it. He pressed it gently against my clammy forehead. His tone was gentle but firm, “You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to keep fucking up, not like this.”

I swallowed hard, trying to focus on his words, but the overwhelming shame was already making it hard to breathe. The familiar haze was there, but it wasn’t like before—it wasn’t comforting anymore. It was suffocating.

Marshall stayed quiet, which made me feel even more exposed than I already did. His silence felt like a judgment, but not the kind I was used to. It wasn’t the anger I expected, it was something else—something that made the weight of my choices feel unbearable. Fuck. I had to say something.

“I only drink when I’m with people, you know?” I continued, trying to explain it to him, but to myself more than anything. “I have this rule. It’s like... I’m still in control. I don’t do it alone. So, I don’t go too far. So, I don’t...” I trailed off, eyes stinging with tears. Suddenly, it was too real. Too raw.

Marshall’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “But you always go too far, Y/N. Every time. It’s never just a little. You keep telling yourself you’re in control, but the truth is—you’re not.”

His words stung, but they also cut through the layers of fog that clouded my mind. They were harsh, but they were also true, and I knew I needed to hear them. I closed my eyes, letting it sink in. It had seemed so easy to rationalize—easy to tell myself it was normal, even expected. Everyone else drank, and it wasn’t like I was alone. I had my “rules” to keep it in check: only when I’m with them, never by myself, just one or two drinks... but it never ended that way.

I took a deep breath, my body heavy with the truth I had avoided for so long. “I think I just... I don’t know if I can stop.”

Marshall exhaled, his hand brushing my hair back from my face in a gesture that was both tender and comforting. “You don’t have to keep doing this to yourself, Y/N. We don’t want you to. No one has asked this of you.”

The room felt suffocating now, the buzz wearing off, leaving only the weight of reality. I looked at Marshall, my vision blurry, but I could still see his expression—soft but firm, like he wasn’t going to let me slip away again.

“I thought... I thought if I just didn’t do it by myself, it wouldn’t hurt anyone…,” I said softly, my voice trembling. I let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling as I reached for him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I’m so tired, Marshall,” I whispered, my voice small. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He held me tighter, his grip reassuring, as if he could keep me from slipping back into the darkness. “I know, Y/N,” he murmured. “We’re going to get through this.”

The words felt like the first real breath I had taken in so long. I didn’t have all the answers. Hell, I didn’t even know how to begin fixing the mess I had made. Years of habits, excuses, led me here. But then I realized something: maybe it wasn’t about having all the answers. Maybe it was just about starting. About taking the first step—whatever that might look like. Tonight, that step could be sipping on cold water and allowing myself to believe that I will be better. Either way, I didn’t have to face it alone.

A/N: Hey all. I am six days sober. It's not much, but it's a start. Thank you to all the kind words. Turns out they don't call me the Lesbian Eminem (Lebinem) for nothing (no one calls me this). Stay safe. If you or anyone you know is in need of help, please reach out to the appreciate authorities. <3

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[ornii]

Oh, The Misery Part 10:

“Peace Was Never and Option”

A torrential downpour blurs the sharp lines of Piltover’s gleaming skyline. Black umbrellas ripple through the city square like a field of mourning flowers. Bells toll — slow, somber, echoing through the heavy air.

A marble memorial stands at the center of the square. Draped banners bear the crests of the fallen houses — including House Kiramman. A massive crowd, shoulder to shoulder, many in dark colors, gathered for the funeral. (Y/n) stands stiff in the rain, his head bowed, water dripping from his hair and metal arm. Beside him, Vi stands with fists clenched at her sides, Neither of them speaks. (Y/n) looked up to the blown up council chambers, grief and anger filled his heart, and he looked away and down. He sees Caitlyn, standing on the steps with her father.

After the Service he waited at an underpass. Hiding from the rain finally until footsteps echo, he turned around to Caitlyn. Silence between them, until he saw her face twist in pain and tears fill. He approached and held her as she cried softly. He just— held her. No words, letting her grieve and let her pain and anguish follow. A minute passed and she composed herself wiping tears.

“You were right, Cait.” He admits, “I thought I could reach Powder but.. she’s gone. I’ll stop her myself, No one else needs to get hurt.”

“No. No more rogue mission. No more reckless plans. My mother was right. My arrogance led me to take on more than I could handle, and she paid the price. They're sending all the Enforcers after Jinx. I'm going with them.” Cait laid it all out, (Y/n) shook his head.

“I can help, we don’t have to set Zaun ablaze.”

“You can. As one of us.” Cait offered him something he, never expected. An enforcers badge. He stared at it, millions of thoughts burning though his brain.

“People are calling for blood. The Council won't stop them. You can show that not all of Zaun supports Jinx. We can show them. You, Me, and Vi. Together.” Caitlyn pleaded with him, and a deep sigh came from him

“I’ve watched enforcers beat, abuse and kill innocent people of Zaun. I’m not becoming what my people fear.” He said, silence against

“I thought you were on our side.” Cait whispered.

“I am. But—“

“You don’t have to say yes now, just.. consider it.” She said, and left it at that. Cait left, leaving (Y/n) to stare at the badge.

Hours later he’s sitting at a stone bench, still staring at the badge, considering just tossing it and going with Vi to fight by themselves. His train of thought was cut off by a shadow looming, he looked up and saw, a girl. she’s petite but fierce, with short-cropped hair and these bright expressive eyes. The person next to her was half amphibian. The girl and guy were enforcers.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

“Junior Officer Nolen. Maddie. And, uh...it's hard to not know who you are with the arm and all..” she said in a particularly joking way.

“Okay, so what is it, Frisk? Trespassing? Or you just here to bother me?” He clenched the badge in his hand.

“Search? No. No, no. Heh. Uh, you're something of a legend amongst the Enforcers. Caitlyn made quite a scene at the station when they tried to deny your enlistment with Vi.”

“Enlistment?” That thought went though (Y/n)’s head. Cait wasn’t joking

“Now I have to ask, is it all true? You went after Silco alone when the Council wouldn't back you? Took on his whole gang?”

“Cait said all that?” He asked, now his interest is piqued. “She said if every Enforcer was like you, we could take on Noxus itself. Then she threatened to withdraw her family's funding. Anyhow, I'm glad you're joining up. Hmm. After the sheriff betrayed us...Well, let's just say...”

(Y/n) watched as Maddie offered a handshake. “it's nice to know there are still good ones left.” She said. (Y/n) shook her hand, but felt something was still. Bit, off.

Fanfare echoes from the main square and Maddie giggled. “Duty calls. A real honor, sir.” Maddie left, and leaving (Y/n) new a new sense of something

Responsibility. Rain trickles in from the shattered skylight above. The air is cold and still. (Y/n) stands near old tracks, arms crossed, deep in thought as Vi approaches, obviously things haven’t been, easy for her.

“.. you okay?” He asked first.

“Yeah, or.. not really, I don’t know..” she mumbled, her mind a bit jagged. (Y/n) softened up pretty quick.

“I know. It’s.. look it, it isn’t your fault. But, what we’re doing now, isn’t working so… so Caitlyn made an offer… to join the Enforcers. Both of us. Together.” He spit it out, and Vi’s mood went from confusion to, anger and disarray.

“You’re serious? After everything they’ve done? After everything they let happen?!” Her voice began to raise.

“I know what they’ve done. But we can fix it. From the inside.”

“Fix it? You wanna join the people that started this shit? Same people who were under Silco’s boot? Those people?!”

“Vi—“

“The same people that killed my parents YOU wanna join them?!”

“I’m trying to save lives, Vi!”

“By joining a bunch of corrupt murderers?!”

“I’m trying to fix this!”

“No. You’re trying to redeem yourself.”

That hits hard. Silence stretches. (Y/n) takes a deep breath.

“Vi.. I understand more than anyone why you’re angry and you have every right to be. But please, every plan I have come up with, people have suffered and died because of it, I don’t have any other plans. Council wants blood, they’d fill Zaun with it if they had the choice. They’re thinking too big, we’re going in too small. There’s gotta be a medium. This is the medium… I don’t expect you to be best friends with them but.. this might be our best shot.” He gives it his best, and gets nothing but silence from Vi. He can tell by her face she is considering it, but just looked away.

“You’ve changed, (Y/n). And not in a good way.” Vi turned and left, leaving him to pick it all back up. As (Y/n) tries to follow her to speak more reason, but Another service is held for the Council.

Many gather and mourn, and (Y/n) and Vi come in attendance. Oddly enough another joined, burly, a bit of a Drunk. He ignored his presence, and watched as Mel approached the stand. She cleared her throat and began.

“One of the many privileges of serving as your councilor is having the occasion now and again to stand behind this podium to behold so many joined together not by birth or dictum but by all that we share. Our hope. Our curiosity. Our compulsion to leave behind us a world better than that before. These things we share are what make us one people.” As Mel began, (Y/n) saw the man mourning citizens, although some looked, off.

“Today we share an unthinkable loss. Councilor Irius Bolbok, Councilor Torman Hoskel, and Councilor Cassandra Kiramman

were taken from us. But they shall not be forgotten. We commissioned this statue so we may remember them for their countless contributions... their lifetimes of service. Not for the craven act that stole them away.” She said, (Y/n)’s eyes locked on a soldier carrying a bag, he passes by a dressed woman and then, passes by without it.

“What the—“

“Though we've suffered

a terrible blow, I assure you, the rule of law prevails in Piltover. We will find those responsible. And they will account for their crimes.” Mel ends her speech with ferocity. (Y/n) can tell something was wrong, until it rolls under him. He looks down and sees hissing. A pipe bomb.

A thunderous explosion rips through the the plaza — the earth quakes beneath the mourners’ feet. Screams. Chaos. Flames rise from the buildings. Through the smoke—Zaunite extremists pour in: masked fighters, grenade-launchers, and at the center, a woman without a nose, a monstrous chainsaw and rage for Jayce.

The blast sends (Y/n) flying, smashing through a marble column. Dust and stone rain down.

Muffled screams.

He blinks awake, ears ringing. He’s half-buried beneath debris — blood leaks down his temple. His vision blurs, then sharpens.

Maddie’s trying to crawl away — being lifted into the air by her leg, dangling from the chemical monster’s claw.

He grits his teeth, shifting rubble off of himself. His arms taking a beating but still works. He scans the ground…His eyes lock on a bent, circular slab of steel plating, about the size of a shield.

He grabs it, pulling himself to his feet, breathing hard. He limps which slowly turns into a full sprint. He throws the makeshift shield once — it slams into the monster’s shoulder, staggering it and dropping Maddie. She looks up to see hissing counter its swing with a parry and recoil with a heavy shield crack to its dome. It slumps unconscious. He turned and, in turn, offers HIS hand.

“Get up! These people need us!” He said, and helped her up. He rushed off to help everyone else, he spots Caitlyn taking a shot at a Zaun extremist but he tries to grab her.

(Y/n) rubs in and hurls the shield into the face of an approaching Zaunite soldier, knocking him back. As the soldier stumbles, he lunges forward, grabbing him and using his body as leverage to perform a high-impact throw into a nearby enemy. The shield recoils and he catches it. He spins, using the shield to block incoming gunfire, then whips it back in a quick arc, knocking another assailant to the ground.

A Chem-Tank soldier attempts to charge him. (Y/n) quickly defends, using the shield to deflect the soldier’s attack before slamming it into their chest. The impact sends the soldier sprawling. Without missing a beat, he uses his old arm to finish the move, grabbing the soldier and throwing him over his shoulder with impressive force.

“Push them back! We protect this city! We protect everyone!” He blocks a swing and counters with a bash.

At this point, the tide is beginning to shift. The Piltover guards, once hesitant, start to see him not as an outsider but as their protector. They rally behind him, taking courage from his unyielding stance.

But it wasn’t over The ground shakes as a mutated chem-monster barrels through a stone wall, roaring with unnatural fury. Enforcers scatter. Panic erupts.

Vi kneels beside Jayce’s Hextech Hammer, trying to reroute energy back into the core. Sparks fly. It won’t boot.

“Come on, come on…”

(Y/n) spots Maddie and the enforcers trying to protect the carriage of councilors. He steps forward, shield in one hand, metallic arm flexing. The chem-monster slams down a piston-sized fist — he raises his shield, absorbing the brunt of the hit, but is launched backwards, skidding across the cobblestone.

He groans, coughing blood, but plants one knee.

He’s down—

But he stands again. His coat torn, armor scorched, He walks straight toward the monster.

The monster charges again.

He dodges left, slams his shield into its leg. It roars. He’s thrown again — crashes through scaffolding.

Everything goes silent for a beat. Dust hangs in the air.

Faint clinks of his metal arm bracing against stone. He rises, beaten, bloodied — but burning with that same unwavering fire.

In the chaos behind him, Vi finally slams the hammer core back into place. It whines to life.

“duck!”

He doesn’t hesitate. He rolls aside just as

Vi blasts the monster, it catches its shoulder and its arm is torn to metal shreds. Before the monster.

The monster, with one arm swings again. (Y/n) sidesteps, smashes the shield into its knee, then slams it across its head.

It stumbles.

He roars, knocks it to the ground.

He raises the shield high—

SLAMS IT DOWN.

And all the grief he’s felt came back.

Powder

SLAM.

Mylo

SLAM.

Vi

SLAM.

Claggor

SLAM.

Dad…

SLAM.

Again.

SLAM

And Again.

SLAM.

The monster grunts.

SLAM.

Its arm twitches.

SLAM.

Rain drips off his face. He doesn’t stop.

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

The monster is no longer moving—but he keeps going, driven by desperation, guilt, fury, the will of everyone lost.

The shield is bloodied. His hands tremble.

Behind him, the battlefield has gone quiet. Civilians stare. Enforcers hesitate. (Y/n) tosses the blood soaked shield and sighs, looking upward to the sky. The fight was over, but this war, was just starting.

(Y/n) was getting a wound sewn up, as Vi and Cait were in front of him. She was, beyond furious.

“A memorial. What kind of animals?”

“They wanted the spectacle. They're trying to scare you.”

“All they did is piss me off.” Cait fired back, Vi was actually surprised by this.

“You... You need to find a way to call off the invasion.”

“What?”

“This battle was on your soil. Down there, you'll be on their terms.”

“None of this is on our terms! She dies and leaves this giant hole, and I'm just supposed to fill it. Like she was never there to begin with.” Cait, now at an impasse let her true feelings be heard.

“Hey.” Vi reached out, gently caressing her cheek.

“You won't. The hole gets smaller, but... you never fill it.”

“Vi.. every way I slice it, if I go after your sister alone, one of us comes back in a box. It's all coming apart.”

“It’s not.” (Y/n) said, and stood up, wiping blood off his face. “I’m joining you. We end this, now.”

..

Deep, in an unknown basement within Piltover, the last three Council Members including Mel, talk.

“Never in our lifetimes has Piltover's leadership been forced into the dungeons of our capitol! But here we are. Does anyone still doubt that our enemy is greater than one deranged individual?”

“How did they sneak so many of these things into the ceremony? I thought we took every measure to secure it.” One asked

“They must have had help. From someone up here.”

“We can't afford any more handwringing. If we do not defend ourselves with Hextech, our principles will mean nothing.” Councilor Salo says, before Mel can reply, the doors open and Cait, now dressed as a fully fledged enforcer approaching.

“We aren't prepared for a full-scale invasion. The undercity's attack proved that.”

“This is a closed Council meeting.

Who let you in here?”

“I am a decorated officer. Leader of House Kiramman. Address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut.” Cait fired back, and as expected Salo shuts up.

“I will lead a strike team into Zaun with three objectives: locate Jinx, dismantle Shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco.

“What makes you think you'll fare better than our forces today?”

“We've got a few surprises

of our own.”

They watch as footsteps echo, Clad in new armored gear forged from reinforced Piltover steel and Hextech alloy. Maddie, Loris, The Aquatic enforcer, Vi, and (Y/n). Each uniform bearing the mark of the wolf, glinting under the rising moon. Faces grim. Unyielding.

He leads them, the first to step into the light.

His new Hextech arm — Aegis — hums quietly, glowing with raw Hex energy. At his back, a polished shield forged from salvaged metal now refined — the same shield he wielded during the attack, reborn.

(Y/n) stepped up first. His hands behind his back and spoke it into existence.

“Commander Kiramman. Captain (Y/n) of the Newly Formed Iron Hounds, awaiting your command.”

[zepskies]

Hey! I was wondering if the requests are still open? I’m so obsessed with BMD💗✨ I was wonder how Ben would react to his gf having cramps during her moon cycle✨

Tysm for sharing these awesome stories with us hun🫂💗✨Hope you’re healthy and happy💃🏻❤️

Hey there!

I'm so glad you love BMD. 🥰 I’m slowly but surely working through my inbox of requests! And because I’m currently on my “moon cycle” as I’m writing this [last week. I was suffering for four days], I just had to do this prompt. So thank you for it, lovely!

And you're so very welcome. It's my pleasure. I hope you're healthy and happy as well!! ❤️❤️

AN: This one is set in the Break Me Down-verse, but can be read as a stand-alone. Considering where we're going next in "Strong as Blood," I thought it'd be good to release this first lol.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Word Count: 2,700 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, of course. Hurt/comfort, fluff, grumpy Ben.

Imagine: How Ben reacts to his girlfriend having cramps during her period.

You really were going to die this time.

The thought was both a conviction and a deranged mantra as you stood hunched over the bathroom sink. Nausea and pain warred for dominance as you pressed a clammy hand over your forehead.

Jesus Christ, end me please. I beg of you.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend was in the bedroom getting ready for work. Both you and Ben worked at Supe Affairs now, with Butcher and the rest of the team.

You were one of the top agents in the Surveillance department, while Ben was considered a “contractor,” catching rogue supes and dealing with the remnants of Vought.

He was just about to undress from his shirt and sweatpants and start getting his supe suit on, when he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom…for the third time now. He realized then just how long you’d been in there.

He went over and knocked on the closed door.

“Hey, you planning on going to work today?” he said, with a teasing note to his voice. “Or making breakfast, for that matter?”

“Not now, Ben,” you replied, barely stifling a groan.

A frown tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Debating if I’m gonna start my day by throwing up last night’s pot roast,” you replied sourly.

Ben’s brows crunched when he heard the strain in your voice. But at the same time, he couldn’t help smiling.

“What, are you pregnant?” he asked.

He heard your dry huff from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Most definitely not,” you said. “But at this point, I’d much rather be knocked up.”

Ben didn’t like the sound of that. He twisted the doorknob and let himself in, just to see his girlfriend locked up with pain. He read the misery written across your face. You were still in your pajamas (one of his old shirts that hung almost to your knees).

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeated gruffly. He rested a heavy hand on your back, between your shoulders. You let out a breath.

“Move that hand lower?” you requested. “My period came early this month. Hit me out of nowhere with a vengeance.”

His brows crunched a bit, but he obliged you, moving to your lower back. His hand was warm, as usual, and the weight of it was a small relief as he rubbed back and forth into your aching muscles.

You let out a deep breath and briefly closed your eyes. Finally, the nausea was starting to pass. And if you dawdled any longer, you were going to be late for work.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I need to get ready.”

You tried to straighten up, even though what felt like your entire lower body protested.

“You can barely move,” Ben said. “How’re you gonna work like that?”

“The way all women have managed to do for centuries,” you tartly pointed out. “With a buttload of painkillers and a heating pad under my desk…speaking of, where is that thing?”

You moved past him to look for said object. You knew you put it somewhere…

Ah! You found it in the top drawer of your nightstand. You plugged it in just to make sure it was working, but to your frowning suspicion, it didn’t turn on.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said. You pressed the “on” button several times, but it didn’t light up. You touched the fluffy heating pad on both sides, but it was still cold. “Damn it. Don’t tell me this thing’s broken!”

You were about ready to tear the thing apart with your bare hands, when a sudden cramp spasmed in your lower belly. You inhaled sharply and held a hand there with a wince. Your back bent forward on reflex, and you grabbed onto the nightstand to steady yourself.

“All right,” Ben said. He took the defunct heating pad out of your hand and guided you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He went over to his side to grab his cell phone where it sat on his nightstand.

When you twisted to see what he was up to, you raised a suspicious brow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not going to work,” he said. His tone was matter of fact, and your brows rose even higher.

“What? Ben—”

He ignored you when whoever he was calling finally answered the phone.

“Yes?” came Grace Mallory’s steady, but slightly incredulous voice. Ben never called her, nor did he want to. But he didn’t have your manager’s number and didn’t feel like scrolling through your phone to find it.

“She’s not coming in today,” Ben said, without preamble.

"Ben," you tried. Again, he ignored you.

In his ear, Grace spoke your name, both a question and a clarification.

“Yeah, she’s sick. Get someone else to fill in,” he said.

Grace sighed. “…All right, but just so you know—”  

Ben hung up the phone before she could finish. He then tossed it onto the bed. You shot him a wry, questioning look.

“What did she say?” you asked.

“It’s fine. You’ve got the day off,” he said. “Just relax.”

You sighed. Going above your manager to call Grace wasn’t the protocol for taking PTO in the slightest, but you couldn’t help but smile.

You beckoned him over with a hand. "Come 'ere."

A smirk tugging at his lips, Ben came back around to your side of the bed. You pulled him down by his shirt until he sat next to you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Maybe it was a small thing, but sometimes your boyfriend surprised you with the ways he showed that he cared.

“Thanks, baby,” you said softly. You carded your fingers through his hair, rested them at the back of his neck.

“Mhmm,” Ben nodded, rubbing your back again. “I gotta get going.”

“If you must,” you sighed. You pulled away enough to see his face, and something occurred to you. “Oh, can you get me some more feminine pads on the way home? And some Midol, and a new heating pad?”

Ben raised a brow at you. This was where he drew the line. He wasn’t about to be caught dead browsing through pads and tampons in some pharmacy aisle. God for-fucking-bid, some kid would be there with a camera phone. He’d learned about the internet, and it was worse than the tabloids used to be.

But you read the pullback in his face. You implored him with your eyes, and your gentle fingers in his hair.

“Please?” you asked. “I’d do it for you.”

Ben’s frown deepened.

“I’m not the one with the…” He gestured at you vaguely. “Monthly problem.”

You grinned a little. The way he reluctantly phrased it amused you. Despite his deplorable sense of humor, and often vulgar language, not to mention his blatant love of pussy, you supposed his fragile male disposition wouldn’t allow him to say the words.

Period.

Menstrual cycle.

Bleeding from the vagina.

“Exactly,” you countered, and you leaned up to once again snuggle your face into his neck. “Please, baby. You don’t know how much it hurts right now. You really want me to go to the store like this?”

Ben held you back with a terse sigh. You were somehow ready to go to work a minute ago, yet you couldn’t drive around the corner to the drug store?

“Fine,” he groused. His voice was nearly a growl, but you still smiled behind his back. You laid small, sweet kisses into his neck. When you leaned back, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you said between kisses. Ben just shook his head when you were done bribing him with affection.

“Yeah,” he dully replied. The things I fucking do for you, said his tone.

He finally withdrew from you to continue getting dressed, leaving you to crawl back under the covers and try to find a comfortable angle to lay down. You used all the pillows on the bed, even dragging his toward you. That one you rested your head on, as it still smelled like him.

Ben watched you settle in out of the corner of his eye, like a cat curling up in her bed. A smile tugged at his lips when you sighed in relief and turned on the TV.

He didn’t see so much pain in your features anymore. You seemed in a better mood, relaxed as you held his pillow like an anchor.

So that’s how he left you. However, it wasn’t until he got to the Supe Affairs building that he saw your text pop up on his phone:

Here’s a picture of the pads I like. If you don’t see them, call me and I’ll help you. And don’t forget the heating pad! 😘

He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

By the time he got home that evening with takeout and a plastic bag (filled with the things you'd asked for), he spotted an empty cup of yogurt in the kitchen.

It meant you’d gotten out of bed at some point, at least. He set down the takeout bags on the kitchen counter and made his way up the stairs.

He found you in the same place he left you: in bed, in your pajamas. And you were crying while watching a movie.

Ben frowned. He stood in the doorway in his supe suit with the pharmacy bag.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. You looked up and finally noticed him.

“Oh, hey.” You paused the movie. “I’m okay. It’s just…Marley & Me.”

“What?”

“It’s this true story about a dog…just, don’t ask. It’s ridiculously sad,” you sniffed and wiped your eyes.

He raised a brow at you.

“Sure it’s not just your uh…situation, making you all weepy?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You did not just say that.”

Was he really calling you hormonal right now?  

His lips pursed, but he held up the bag.

“Before you start blowing your top, I got your female shit.” He ventured into the bedroom and laid the bag in your lap.

Giving him some annoyed side-eye, you peered into the bag. You nodded in approval at the correct brand and size of the pads you wanted, and a new pack of Midol. You then had to smile, as he even got you a couple of Twix bars. Your favorite chocolate covered candy.

“Admit it, I did good,” Ben said with a smirk. Your side-eye was begrudgingly amused this time.

“Color me surprised,” you replied, but you still treated him with a genuine smile. “Thanks, baby. This is perfect…”

Though you realized something was missing. Ben’s smirk started to fade as he caught on.

“Wait.” You sorted through the bag. “Where’s the heating pad?”

Fuck, Ben thought. He forgot.

His expression slackened, making you sigh in disappointment.

“Okay, it’s fine,” you said, ripping open the box of Midol. This would have to be enough to relieve your pain (but it never was). Even now, your cramps were starting back up again.

Ben nodded in response. You were no longer looking at him though.

He let out a sigh. Didn’t he get credit for fucking trying here?

Without another word, he started unzipping his supe suit and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he returned, you were nearly in full fetal position. The Midol had only put a dent in your pain. The First Wives Club movie from the '90s was playing on the TV, but not even that could make you laugh, let alone relax right now.

You were truly miserable, and Ben saw it as he got dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

“Hey, you hungry?” he asked. He wasn’t sure about the last time you’d eaten anything.

You paused the movie and moved your head enough to meet his eyes.

“Not really,” you admitted. “You go ahead and eat.”

Oh, he was starving. After the day he’d had, rounding up another telekinetic that tried to trash Midtown to evade capture, Ben could go for about five burgers. But there was a part of him that…didn’t feel right, leaving you like this.

Still, he needed to eat. He went downstairs and grabbed his meatball sub out of the takeout bag. He also took your sandwich along too, just in case the sight of food managed to make you hungry. He brought it all upstairs and sat next to you in bed. Though he was also kind of behind you, the way you were curled up.

You'd felt when his body dipped on his side of the bed. His presence both soothed and annoyed you. The former, because you did love your man. The latter, because he forgot the most important thing you'd reminded him not to forget.

You reached back blindly, eventually finding his hand that wasn't occupied with holding his sandwich. You placed that hand on your lower back.

"Massage, please," you grunted into your pillow. (Well, his pillow, but semantics.)

He sighed through his nose and a mouthful of meatball.

"I'm eating," he replied.

"What, you can't multitask?" you quipped.

Ben's gaze hardened with annoyance at the back of your head.

Still, he found himself reaching over and rubbing across your lower back. He applied gentle, but firm pressure with the heel of his hand. You sighed in appreciation.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Ben nodded and continued to polish off his sub while watching the movie. He usually wasn’t into chick flicks, but Bette Midler was hilarious, and Goldie Hawn was hot as fuck.

“I got you turkey and provolone,” he said. You nodded.

“Thanks. I’m still not hungry though.”

“Are you nauseous?”

“No…just in pain.”

Ben frowned…until he got an idea. He crumpled up his trash and tossed it onto the nightstand for now, along with brushing off the crumbs from his chest. He grabbed a couple of your pillows and propped them up behind him, against the headboard.

You shot him an annoyed look. “Hey!”

“You’re like a little dragon with her hoard a’ gold,” he remarked, smirking. Before you could start getting all huffy, he reached for your arm. “Come ‘ere.”

“What?”

“For once, just do what I'm telling you," he said. His lips twitched at your narrowing eyes. "I’ve got an idea."

With a loud sigh, you reluctantly (and slowly) uncurled and turned towards him. Ben laid back against the headboard, and he guided you to lay on top of him. You often complained that his skin was too hot at night for summer. Sometimes you woke up sweating.

It was a result of the power that emanated from his chest. Ben couldn’t exactly control the heat; at least, not when he was sleeping. But he was sure you were going to appreciate it more when winter came.

Not to mention, right now.

He positioned you just right, with your knee curling around his hip and your head resting against his chest. His large hand once again soothed against your lower back, underneath your shirt, and his fingers massaged into your skin.

You smiled as you realized what he was doing. You felt the warmth emanating from his body as it seeped into yours. Along with his calming touch, it slowly managed to relieve your pain.

After a few minutes, you let out a deep sigh and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, before you went back to resting on him fully. You couldn’t see it, but Ben smiled.

“Better?” he asked.

You closed your eyes with a soft smile. “Yeah. My new heating pad’s working wonders.”

Ben huffed a bit at that.

Just then, your stomach growled fiercely. Your eyes popped open.

You met your boyfriend's wry look, biting your lip. He smirked and reached down into the bag that still laid beside the bed. He retrieved your foil-wrapped sandwich and handed to you. You took it and happily began breaking through the foil.

Ben looked down at you, both fond and resigned. You clearly had no intention of getting off him. Which meant you were about to try and use him like some kind of makeshift man table.

You eventually took a bite of your sandwich, your eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation. You glanced up at his raised brow with a happy little smile.

“So good!” you said, still with your mouth full.

Ben restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he thumbed at a bit of crumb on the corner of your mouth.

“Just don’t get mustard on my shirt,” he said.

AN: Lol I hope you liked this! I had fun with it, even though I don't have a body heater for my cramps. 😭

(It's fine. I bought a new heating pad online. ❤️‍🔥)

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[winwhenyoulose3]

title: people search for a wonder like you all of their lives (drabble)

(thank u @bucket-o-h for naming this. where wld i be without u /p)

Summary: Some of Laurance's musings about Garroth.

Pairing: Garroth Ro'Meave/Laurance Zvahl

Warnings/Tags: Slight violence (dueling), fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

✥------- † -------✥

Laurance still thinks that he might be dreaming. He’s probably fallen down another hole, and is now facing the repercussions of travelling alone. He supposes it isn’t the worst way to go, alone at the bottom of a hole, ravine, pit, wherever it is that he might be laying. At least his final moments aren’t spent in a vicious nightmare.

A sole blue sword crashes against the dual red katanas Dante wields. Watching the older man fight was always interesting, observing the way he prioritises speed over strength. He’s always had a smart mind, able to solve problems quicker than Laurance himself even at the age of seventeen, but his intelligence only seems to increase when he’s locked in battle. Combat comes so easily to Dante that it should scare the people around him, but with a personality like his, it only serves to make people feel protected.

However, no natural talent or practically perfect skill set will ever allow anyone to take down the force that is Garroth Ro’Meave. The eldest Son of O’Khasis possesses all the luck in the world. From the moment he was born, he had everything. The right to the throne of the Capital of Ru’aun, unmatched genius, good-looks. What sums it up best is the nickname given to him by nobles and commoners alike, the one that Garroth despises - the Golden Boy. Whether it’s used as the ultimate compliment or a scathing insult, it suits him perfectly.

The Divine Warriors have favoured him from the moment he was a whisper in the wind. If Laurance didn’t know of the pressure that favouritism came with, he would be jealous.

Having everything doesn’t make you happy. Garroth is living proof of that. Despite his position at the top of the world, he gave it all up because of the misery that came with it.

Laurance isn’t sure he would have made the same decision, but he often finds himself glad that Garroth had the courage to run away from O’Khasis. If he hadn’t, his own life would be much more uneventful.

He’s dragged out of his thoughts by Dante’s loud complaints as he’s pinned to the floor under the threat of a shiny blue blade. “You’re a cheater! We said weapons only!”

Clapping slowly, Laurance rises to his feet and walks towards his friends. “Well done, Garroth, you beat up an old man. I’m so proud of you!”

“Shut up, L,” Dante spits, accepting his hand as he offers it out. Hauling himself up, he dusts the dirt from his rusty armour. “You saw what he did, right? This doesn’t count as a victory.”

Garroth rolls his eyes, busying himself with sheathing his sword. “A sore loser, as always. You’ve always relied too much on your wit, Dante. Making plans during battle only serves to distract you from your opponent. Expect people to play dirty, as I did. Otherwise you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of somebody’s sword.”

“Your swordsmanship has grown sloppy, Garroth,” Dante retorts, unhappy with the lecture coming from a man almost a decade his junior. “Has the relic’s power made you too comfortable? Maybe it’s time you relied more on your own muscles again, instead of The Protector’s magic.”

“Says the one who uses two swords,” Garroth mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who needs muscle when you’ve got two sharp objects? They’ll damage something eventually, with the way you swing them around so wildly.”

Dante’s face goes as red as his swords. “Ready for round two, asshole? This time, I’ll fight with more than my weapons.”

Laurance is holding Dante back by his arms before the older man can attack their friend again. “Let’s take a breather, alright? It’s been a long morning.”

“When did you become a pacifist?” Garroth teases, but it comes across too bluntly.

He lets Dante go, cackling as the Golden Boy is sent crashing to the floor as the older man pins him down.

It feels so awfully reminiscent of the years they spent together in Phoenix Drop, scrapping over the smallest argument because they were young and stupid and full of energy. If Laurance ignores the burning sensation that bubbles in his very soul, the call of the one Divine Warrior that has chosen to favour him, he can almost pretend as if everything is back to normal.

-

“Why are you staring?” Garroth grumbles, his voice husky in the early morning. His eyes watch Laurance through slits, still half asleep. He stifles a yawn. There’s a fading greenish-grey bruise on his jaw, from his tussle with Dante.

He reaches out to press down on it, feeling the strong bone under his fingers. “Does it still hurt?”

Garroth only shakes his head, turning to face him with his eyes closed. “Too early,” he declares. He presses Laurance’s hand further into the pillow with his face as he tries to pull it away.

“My hand’ll go numb,” Laurance complains, but doesn’t make an attempt to move it again.

“G’night,” Garroth mutters. His breathing evens out after a moment, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Laurance watches him sleep. It would’ve felt creepy had it been anyone else, but Garroth has caught him in the same act a thousand times and never once outwardly asked him to stop. (He caught him once, doing the same. He didn’t let the blonde live it down for months afterwards.)

If he were any good at drawing, he could probably replicate Garroth’s face quite well on paper. The symmetry of the man’s face is something that Irene herself must have crafted, attempting to make the perfect human. His round eyes, the most expressive of his features, would be the hardest to capture, the look in them constantly changing and shifting like waves in the ocean. Even his less ‘attractive’ features are committed to Laurance’s memory like a mantra. His perpetually cracked lips, bitten and chewed constantly through the day. A crooked nose, the only part of his face that breaks the perfect harmony, is something that Garroth hates - it never set properly when he broke it at the Academy, apparently - but the truth is, it only serves to make him look more handsome.

People always comment on how Garroth is the spitting image of his father, but Laurance has never been able to see it. Despite the hair and the colour of his eyes, nothing is the same. There’s a youthfulness in his face that his father never had, even in the depictions of the Lord’s younger years. Zane may have most of their mother’s looks, but Garroth resembles the woman the most, in the way he carries himself, the soft smiles (ones preserved for when he believes nobody is looking) and the roundness of his cheeks, especially when he’s sulking.

Occasionally, Laurance wonders how much of his own looks come from his parents. Which of his parents did he get his natural green eyes from? Did his father have the same thick brown hair as he does? Did his mother have the same sharpness to her features, face and body? Where did his height come from? The leanness?

Sometimes, he’s desperate to know the answers. Usually, he’s glad he doesn’t. It would only make not knowing what happened to them worse.

Garroth stirs in his sleep, turning to lie on his back once again. His hand reaches up, grabbing Laurance’s own from where it lays numb on his pillow.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Garroth tells him. “Be quieter.”

Laurance huffs. “Missing out on your beauty sleep?”

The hand in his own squeezes tighter.

✥------- † -------✥

[kakushino]

Smokescreen

Rengoku Kyojuro x GN! Reader

Suppress, smile, survive.

Tags: hurt/comfort Word count: ~1k

Masterlist

AN: This was quite the emotional piece for me to write. I hope yall won't be destroyed by it. Written as a Christmas present to dear @heartbroken4ever ~

The water temperature was just right, the fog rising in the bathroom concealed him from prying eyes should there be any - a smoke screen of sorts - but the tears streaming down his face felt like branding iron, searing an unseen wound into his soul.

His throat was clogged with emotion, his body felt too hot and too cold at the same time, shame burned his cheeks bright red as he gasped for breath quietly. He was choking, drowning, suffocating on the aching mess built up in his core over the weeks, months, years. 

You’re a disgrace.

No, father, please!

Good for nothing.

I just want you to be proud of me!

Get out of my sight.

I just want you to look at me!

He had told Senjuro before that the fire in his heart couldn’t ever be extinguished, that he would never give in…

He wasn’t so sure now.

His heart shrieked in grief, a banshee mourning the loss of his father’s love yet again. He kept hoping and hoping, praying and praying; it was all for naught. Perhaps he was a disgrace, perhaps he was good for nothing, perhaps he should just-

No. He couldn’t give into that. He would fight until his final breath for humanity, though the thought still lingered on his mind.

The Flame Hashira never lashed out, never cried loudly, he never felt he deserved to carve out a place for his sorrow in others’ minds. However, his breath came out in a death rattle, as if his lungs were truly filling up with fluid-

He thought he was being quiet.

“My love?” 

Kyojuro stifled a curse, and forced down everything that had bubbled over from the tightly wound knot of his negative emotions; he put it all away with desperate swiftness belaying his misery.

He never wanted to weigh you down with his baggage after all.

He cleared his throat, and called out “Yes?” in what he hoped was his usual tone. He gathered all the loose strings and forced them back inside, splashing lukewarm water - when had it gotten so cool? - onto his face to wash away the tears.

The slight waver betrayed the state of your partner. “Are you okay? You have been there an hour…” you asked, still at the threshold of the room. It was foggy inside, but you could see your love’s silhouette moving a little. “I’m coming in.”

Kyojuro hoped beyond hope all signs of his distress were gone as he pulled his signature wide smile onto his face like a mask. You already had so much on your plate, how could he burden you with his insignificant worries?

“You are bold today, my love!” His smile stretched into a grin as you walked closer to him, glad to see you, though the ache inside only throbbed more prominently as he suppressed the emotional release he needed.

You, on the other hand, knew something was wrong, and you knew Kyojuro was loath to show any weakness even to you - his partner of over two years. You didn’t want to force him to show vulnerability to you, but you would be damned if he went through it all alone.

You stepped around him silently to hug him from the back as he leaned on the side of the bathtub. His skin was warm, overly so as always, but the water wasn’t, which was telling in a way.

“It’s okay to let go, dearest,” you murmured into his ear, your head nuzzling lightly against his in a cat-like affectionate gesture. Your hands splayed on his chest as you let him remain unseen yet offered him unconditional support. No amount of ‘dirty laundry’ he hid from you would make you leave your Kyojuro.

His face pulled into an ugly expression he was glad you couldn’t see as he tried to hold back his feelings. They pressed against his chest and made it hard to breathe again, his total concentration breathing broken for the second time today. His lungs physically hurt from the suppression.

“I’ve got you,” you said softly. 

Oh how he wished his father held him like you did, how he wished he could say your embrace was enough… It would have to be enough. 

The first choked sob that burst from his chest was loud and echoed in the bathroom. Your heart broke as you cradled him in all the comfort and warmth you could provide to him. More distressing noises left your lover and your arms tightened around him. It hurt to not be able to do anything other than stay as his pillar of support.

Kyojuro pressed his head against yours, cheek to cheek, his breathing ragged as tears fell. 

“Let it all out, love. I’m here,” you whispered reassuringly, caressing his chest briefly before his hands came up to intertwine with yours. He held onto you as if you were his lifeline, clung to you like a lost child in a dark forest. Water soaked your yukata sleeves, but you cared little as you started to rock him slowly. “You don’t have to smile when you don’t feel good… not with me.”

The bath was cold and goosebumps spread across your skin by the time Kyojuro fell into an exhausted silence. You stayed with him the entire time, despite the discomfort of the cold water, despite the awkward position; you stayed and you gave him the love he so desperately needed.

“Never hesitate to lean on me, my love. I’m here with you… I’m here for you. You’re so strong and brave. My warrior… Let it all out, never bottle it in, okay? Shhhh… I love you, Rengoku Kyojuro.”

How could he have thought you weren’t enough to help him through this… He was a fool.

You were his personal Deity of Salvation, and he would stay your reverent worshiper until the day he died. Until his soul crossed the Sanzu river, he would be yours.

dividers made by the awesome @benkeibear Network: @enchantedforest-network

[straw-hat-nakama-22]

Snipits from fics I'll never finish. Part 2!

“Cook. Would you join me?” Robin invited him to sit across from her in the galley.

Sanji was caught between tripping over himself to get to the bench, and wondering if this was some kind of trap. Which was ridiculous because this was Robin not Reiju and she wouldn’t hurt him but he felt like she should because he deserved it-

He sat cautiously and Robin’s pleasant expression, carefully arranged as it always was, became a little tighter at the edges.

“Is there anything I can get for you? I can warm up some hot chocolate in no time at all? Or if you’re craving something savory-”

“Sanji.” Sanji’s jaw snapped shut and his head ducked. He’d flinched involuntarily. “Would you look at me please?” She tilted her head to try and catch his eye. He peaked up at her and Robin frowned at the dark circle under his eye. “You’re not sleeping.”

Sanji's shoulders dropped slightly, like he was relieved.

“I’m getting as much as I need. Thank you for your concern, but it’s not something you need to worry about.”

“You mean that you’re not worth worrying about.”

Sanji looked stunned.

“What?”

“That is what you mean, isn’t it? That you’re not worthy of my concern or attention or care.”

“As far as I’ve noticed this is the first time I’ve been offered any of that since I got back.” He snapped. Then, immediately dropped his head into one hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You did say it and I’m glad. You’re right. None of us, myself included, have been treating you as we did before. We don’t understand. I was, hurt, when you left.”

Sanji’s head shot up.

“Robin...”

“I wondered, rather self-centeredly, if I had done something to drive you away. You fought the world government to get me back once, and half a dozen times since to keep me.  And then you were gone. No real explanation, just the promise to come back after you’d taken care of whatever was more important than us. It sounds rather petty to say out loud, but I believe everyone on the crew, sans Luffy and Jimbe feel the same way. After some time and thought, Usopp has decided that the woman you ran off with was secretly a Marine spy who then tried to capture you. Zoro just thinks she was already married. Franky is of the opinion that her father was a warlord of the sea, or someone equally as powerful. I have a different theory.”

Sanji leaned back on the bench. If Robin had taken time to think this through, she was going to be right. There was no fighting it, no hiding it, no point in denying it. There was only waiting to be put out of your misery. She knew he’d been a coward and a weakling and always had been.

Robin stood from her side of the bench and sat next to him. Softly, eyes never moving from the aquarium across from them both.

“When you faced CP9, it was the second most terrifying time of my life. Even just the words, buster call... I didn’t want them anywhere near you. Everytime I considered leaving, letting you save me, I saw you all burning. The words, the words wouldn’t even come to my lips. Instead, I’d spew whatever lie I thought would force you to leave me alone. A lie you’d believe. So I wondered, what lie you might tell and why. After careful consideration of your character I came to my conclusion.” Robin looked at him and slipped her hand over his own clenched, trembling fist. She whispered, brows pinched, “You must have been so afraid. I’m so sorry, for not noticing sooner.”

Sanji bit his lip to fight back tears. He’d cried enough. He’d cried too much. He didn’t want to cry in front of Robin. He felt like he needed to say something, but he didn’t know what would come out if he opened his mouth right now. Instead he took Robin’s hand and several long, deep breaths. Once his lungs stopped burning he chanced to mutter.

“I can’t sleep. Not yet.”

Robin nodded in understanding.

“Alright. Can you eat?”

Sanji looked at her with shock, horror, confusion, and guilt all at the same time. It would be amusing in another situation. Not this one.

“I, I eat.”

“A full portion, with us, at the table.”

“They don’t, they don’t want me there, Robin.”

“Even if that’s true, I seem to remember you telling me that the Captain has final say on matters regarding the crew.” She said it with a little smile in her voice. Maybe that’s why Sanji agreed to give it a go.

“I’ll try.” Robin gave his hand a tight squeeze.

“Thank you.”

Sanji slid out from the bench and started on prep work for the next day. He needed to get pie dough in the fridge chilling if he was going to make Franky’s favorite cherry turnovers for a snack tomorrow afternoon. Plus he’d save time to prep dinner then if he pitted the cherries now. He set about pulling out bowls and ingredients.

He was just about to start the actual work when he realized that Robin had settled into the bench with a thick book in hand and three more on the table. A blanket was draped over her lap. 

“Robin?”

“Don’t mind me. It’s a lovely night for reading.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“I am.”

“Don’t you want to sleep?”

“Not yet.” She smiled at him softly and Sanji understood. Skipping two nights of sleep was easy for Robin. She would stay up with him for this one. Sanji had been found by a wonderful crew. He didn’t deserve them.

[cbk1000]

Posting a longer preview of Book of Merthur, because I'm SO close to the end of the next chapter, but my body continues to piece itself back together as slowly as possible, and it makes writing with any kind of consistency really difficult. So here are the first few pages or so of the next chapter.

Two things happened that spring: Gwen, still prodigiously vomiting, peed on some wheat and barley seeds; and the ship on a foggy morning in April landed not far from the citadel in Camelot.

The first happened because she no longer had a sea crossing to explain away her sickness; and any illness would have cleared, or killed her by now. Merlin, who had sensed the moment he saw her in the dress Arthur’s coffers had bought her that it was something other than the sea which had sickened her, had neglected to pass on that knowledge to Gwen; but women did not chuck up their guts on the daily for weeks, without wondering if that time immemorial affliction had afflicted them. Merlin had elected for that focussed ignorance which people have when they have learnt something that they never wanted to know; because he was as thick as Lancelot, he assumed he had come home to Gwen knocked up with Arthur’s progeny, and consequently, he had stuck his fingers in his ears, and then his whole head in the sand, to be safe about it. But Gwen, whose body was fostering the child, could not so easily pretend about it. She had dreamt of a child for ages; but now the father was in a monastery, and people, actual live, breathing people, whom she had to see every day, would assume it was born of a coupling with Arthur, she was more apprehensive than thrilled. She had a lot of bad advice about putting nails in her urine, to see if they rusted, or putting an onion up her, to see if her breath smelled of onions in the morning; but fortunately, Gaius diverged from Hippocrates on that latter advice, and said he had seen more success with the barley. So she squatted self-consciously over some seeds in her chamberpot, instead of grimacing down at a bulb soon to be in her instead of her dinner. 

For several days she persisted, till one morning she got up to see the seeds were sprouting, and went back to bed, to have a bit of a cry, and vomit. Already she loved the child who must have been little more than a seed itself; but she was frightened, and alone: for you are perfectly that, when there is a whole human inside of you, which at the end will tear and possibly murder you. Morgana was gone; and now closest of all to her were some men who would not understand that her body would warp incomprehensibly, that she was glad to give it over for a baby whose head would smell of love and heaven; but that she would be in misery, and pain, and fear, all that long labouring to the miracle in her arms, which sometimes died not long after reaching them. She was afraid for herself, and afraid for the baby yet to exist, and cried all that morning she learnt of its presence in her. 

Arthur discovered her like that by hearing her through the door connecting their chambers, and hovering round it for a while, and then tapping at it, and asking if she was all right, when it was perfectly plain she was not; till eventually it was too awkward to stand at the door any longer. He would have felt he was abandoning her if he had gone away altogether; and so he girded his repression, and went through the door instead, to find that his wife was a soggy lump on some bolsters.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she sobbed. “I’m pregnant. I’m happy.”

What she meant, of course, was that she wanted to be happy; and she felt that it was betraying the small, helpless thing inside her not to be absolutely so. 

“Oh,” he said; in the same tone in which he would have reported a fire. He sounded more frightened than her.

But he sat down on the bed beside her, and rubbed her back, and made the noises which he had learnt to make to animals; and because there is no biological gulf between humans in distress, and animals in distress, slowly her heaving back began to slow, and settle, and the sobs came now at a few bubbling intervals. Then she said, “I’m ok” to let Arthur know that he could flee like a startled deer if he felt it appropriate, and wiped her eyes, and sat up. 

And he stayed on the bed with her, so that at least she would not be alone with the knowledge.

The ship happened because Isolde was not the only Celt to fuck about with death; and some drunk cunts mucking about at the Hill of Tlachtga on Samhain had accidentally welcomed home a little more than their beloved granny. Some sailors, unsurprisingly, had got themselves into difficulties on shore, and then gone back to their ship with the idea that it was a kind of haven, that they could outrun the difficulties: or at least die at sea in a storm, and not have to worry about it anymore. But what had come to see what the humans were doing on the hillside in Ireland when the wall between life and death was no thicker than vellum was the Alp-Luachra who lived in the water in the ditch a few of the arseholes were napping off their excesses beside. The Alp-Luachra, or joint-eater, thrives, quite literally, on exactly these dumb sorts of pricks, who should know, no matter how pissed, not to sleep beside a body of water on the Hill of Tlachtga on the evening of Samhain. But they had; and so its first victim was a tow-headed young sailor who brought back to the ship more than the fair-haired good looks which would put him in danger of men so far from their women. The men were in haste when they left, because they had got into a punch-up with some of the local lads, and some of the local lads were quite large, and armed with pieces of their harrows; so the tow-headed sailor had only hastily made himself a vehicle for the Alp-Luachra, by shovelling in a few bits of bread that morning before the punch-up, and then darted down to the ship ahead of the lads, and the hunger pangs. He did not yet realise his body like Gwen’s was being made use of by some other entity; and went to sleep the innocent incubator of his ship’s horrific fate.

Gwen’s pregnancy was not quite as rough on Merlin as the Alp-Luarcha was about to be on the sailors; but he did feel nearly as sick as her. He did not have another little being gnawing at him, and taking half of what he took in; but he did have love, and anger, and envy, and the sickening guilt which comes of having all these things for Gwen. He had thought to return home to find Arthur in a dutiful marriage to Mithian; and instead he had come out of the tree to find that Arthur had married someone about whom he was far less casual than that. Unlike Lancelot, Merlin knew that Arthur did not love Gwen like that; but he loved her, and was handsome, whilst her first husband was gone; and that loneliness, and proximate attractiveness, had turned them into the last expected thing they could be, which was lovers. 

He had expected to rescue Arthur from some duteous fucking, and remove that cumbersome burden of his penis from Mithian’s grinding nights; but instead he would have to take it away from Gwen, who had lost her first husband because of Merlin, and who, confoundingly, seemed not to have minded the sex that much, because she could still look Arthur in the eye, or call him back to fix a piece of hair which had conspired to make him look like a tit, by standing up at the top of his head when he was about to train with his men, or meet with his barons in council. She was affectionate with him, which Merlin would have sworn that no woman could be, after having been lain on for a bit, and suffered a little listless thrusting from his hips, till he had to pull out, before it ended in tears, instead of a baby. He could not imagine Arthur getting past the dangerous, unsheathed breasts; but he had, possibly through some confluence of absolute darkness, and protracted celibacy: and now he was to have a son, which the barley had confirmed, by sprouting instead of the wheat. 

And Merlin found, horribly, that he loathed the baby. There was a small, defenceless creature in Gwen, who was part her, and part Arthur, and he hated it, and wished wretchedly one night whilst he was alone with the wind for those terrible things which so often happen to growing children to happen to this one; and then he could not sleep because he was so hateful, and because that terrible turn of nature which so often takes babies sometimes takes their mothers as well, and it terrified him to think that he had wished a kind of collateral death on Gwen; that he had been so willing, for even a moment, to long for something so terrible, so that he had to think back over those long, cyclic thoughts again, the same cyclical burden which he sometimes had to carry, of not being quite human. His magic made him something a little beyond that, and maybe he was losing the feeling of it. He was too afraid of his nasty thoughts to have been a monster; but of course the human never thinks of that. So this one stayed up all night in his bed with the patterns the shadows made on his ceiling, and berated himself for being horrible, for having thought to come back to a love as he had left it, to friends as he had left them; when really it is never like that, and you can never come home to quite exactly the same people. Things had happened, to him and to them, and he had not been there for them, and now his absence, which he had rectified, was still somehow there, the ghost of itself; but a kind of ghost like Isolde, which couldn’t be arsed that it was supposed to be gone. 

Now for the first time, with a year and a baby between them, he felt awkward with Arthur, who had kissed him when their friend was carrying his son. Stupidly on the hillside, with his arms relearning how to be arms instead of boughs, he had thought Arthur was back in them permanently; and then he had seen Gwen with the coronet on her, and sensed the baby in her, and realised what he had lost with his fatal stupidity. He had gone away when Arthur had begged him not to; and now had returned to exactly what he deserved. 

So that cosy dynamic between them, rife with friendly arguments, had altered; had reverted to that state of newness which happens when people are just learning, or relearning one another. They were almost shy with one another now; and when Merlin saw across the courtyard the crooked smile which had kept him from giving up on being a human again, he felt himself like some kind of bumbler with a new crush, trying not to look terribly stupid in front of it. He dropped a bottle which he had been carrying to a patient one afternoon because Arthur had waved to him, and spent all the rest of that afternoon mashing and boiling its contents again; and when Arthur, unsubtly lurking, had caught him coming out of The Rising Sun with Gwaine, or pottering about in the market, using that, “Ah, Merlin” which he always said as if it were a surprise, but not a wholly unpleasant one to have found him exactly where he had loitered to find him, Merlin felt, instead of some fondness for an idiot, that terrifying blow of the infant love. When it is still fresh, and novel, and has yet to be dinged up by burping, it is frightening; and he was frightened, almost, to feel how the love came up in him, not softly, but raging. He had been settled in with it as an old companion, and had forgot how ridiculous, how riotous it really is to love another person. And now he loved one who had a baby on the way with a woman he hated to hurt.

“You do know we only married because we thought Lancelot was dead,” Arthur told him one evening, when Merlin had brought him the stomach tonic, and Gwen had retreated into her connecting chambers to wash her hair.

“Yeah. Of course,” Merlin said. But you didn’t have to screw her, he added; and felt again that horrid little pricking of hatred which had risen in him with frightening speed for something which had done nothing more than add a little more volume to Gwen’s waistline. 

Arthur did not try to kiss him after the hillside in Ireland; but he tested Merlin constantly with more insidious assaults, by walking round in the sunlight, where his hair glowed, or looking incredibly fit whilst he trained blindfolded with his men. It was dangerous to be within eyeshot of him when he was being attractive; and he was always being attractive. Merlin might have, almost, tried to reject some physical advance, by citing Gwen’s feelings; but there was nothing he could do about Arthur looking fit. There was no telling him to stop being good-looking for the sake of Gwen, who, if she had had to suffer the sad flurry of thrusting and throat-clearing, might as well have endured it under a man who looked like that. So he had to pretend he was all right with Arthur being muscular, or wearing unnecessarily tight hose, tensing at any moment in anticipation of Arthur’s hotness coming round a corner at him, or a stray forearm peeking naked and deadly from beneath a sleeve.

Merlin had not had even his own hand in over a year; and now that his only option for partnered sex was Gwen’s husband, he felt that he might have to bite something. He was not nearly as spiritual, or kindly, as Lancelot, and had no qualms about wanking to the thought of his friend’s husband; but he did draw the line at bursting in on him at bathtime, and pleasuring him in the tub. 

But of course not only the sexual repression was eating at him. All that long journey to Ireland, his heart had told him not to go; and he had listened to his brain, and to Gaius, and got himself nothing more than a year as a tree, and an even more calamitous marriage out of it. The marriage to Mithian he could have endured; now having learnt she had run off with Elaine, he realised they all could have stayed, and given Arthur’s beard some lively company. But Merlin had gone, and she had gone, and now he was alone, and poor Lancelot was alone, whilst Gwen was starting to glow (when she was not throwing up) from Arthur’s lovemaking.

Merlin had never been especially jealous of anyone before, because he had known, as Arthur had not, there was only death to come between them; and now the constant reminder of his mistake was flitting about in gowns increasingly mindful of her belly. So what Camelot got back was a man not much less tortured than that mincing git who had gone wandering about the Irish countryside till he was too annoying to the wrong person. He couldn’t carry on in quite the same way, because he had to put on the face which he had made for a very small boy who had learnt he would have enemies all his life for something he couldn’t help, and he would have to be all right about it, or seem to be all right about it, till he was in his grave. There was no one to tell (except for the woods) that he hated the poor baby, or loved Arthur, or loved Gwen, whose friendship he was afraid of tainting with his horridness. So he put on the face with the false dimples, which always smiled, whilst its actor was screaming. He felt almost as he had when the magic was something furtive and shameful in him. He had to pretend to everyone he was only relieved to be home, and human, when what he wanted to be was raging in bed.

And Arthur, who had pressed their foreheads together on the hillside, and now was a little shy with him, had to be not only humoured, but sought out, because he would be hurt if Merlin’s hurt drove him to avoidance. Arthur, who still loved him, though he had somehow impregnated Gwen, was once more a constant in his day; and smiled at him as if Merlin were the sun bringing him out of a long winter. When he was not in council, he was at the worktable in Gaius’ rooms, eating his lunch whilst Merlin pottered about with his herbs, or bringing him wine and conversation at the end of a long day, when Merlin had hoped to seal himself up in his room to stew. The first time he had done it nervously, holding the two goblets in one hand, and the wine in the other, in case it was too much of an audacity to have already poured them; and Merlin, opening his door to see the expression which was like the ones dogs have when they have waddled up carefully low to the ground, with wagging tail, let him in, seating himself on a stool so they would not both be on the bed, and pretending it was all right that he would have to be in the small room with Arthur, on the stool whilst he was sat on the bed, listening to him recite his woes with his barons the way he had when they had gone to bed together afterward. He watched Arthur in the rushlight, and was sick, not even because he would not get to have sex with him, but because he could not crawl into the bed, and rest his head on Arthur’s thigh, or the rest of him in his arms. Then there was the awful leave-taking, when Arthur got up, well after midnight, and went to the door, and dawdled there with his hand on the bar, trying to think of how to say good night to someone whose bed he was not used to leaving. Merlin could see the abject struggle in his face, and almost kissed him, and remembered Gwen; so what happened instead was that Arthur said, “Well. See you in the morning” and punched him.

Then the wine too was a constant; and Merlin, though it was watered, had to be incredibly judicious with his drinking of it, so that he still cared enough about Gwen not to nail Arthur to the mattress till he was screaming for it. They did not talk about Merlin’s leaving, but all round it, till Merlin knew, down to the last dog in Camelot’s kennels, what had happened, and to whom, since he had been gone. 

“And so the dog keeps farting, and poor Lord Robert keeps telling him off, he’s getting more and more embarrassed, and the jongleur is shaken, he’s trying to play Fair Annie, and then Gwen just sort of collapses, and slides under the table. Gwaine and I had to fish her out and we all went out to the gardens and laid down on a bench there, and just sort of. Wept, really. For several minutes. It was the funniest thing I had ever seen in my life.”

Merlin, who had been laughing himself till the tears streamed down his face, sobered a little at the mention of Gwen, which he had not wanted to do, and looked down into his cup, to see if there was enough wine left to get over Gwen, but not under Arthur. He scratched his ear, and smiled the false smile down into the cup. “Well, my year wasn’t as exciting. Just the tree thing. Mostly.”

“What exactly did you say to that man, to get him to turn you into a tree?” Arthur asked. “Not that I can blame him. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same myself a few times, if I could have.”

“I dunno,” Merlin said, and smiled an actual smile now, because he had looked up at Arthur, and it was impossible not to see the face looking back at him, over the small room, and smile himself, instead of making that wretched mask do it for him. “I think I told him--his cave was rubbish.”

Arthur choked on his wine a little. “You told him his cave was rubbish?”

“Yeah, there was a cave nearby, I don’t know if you saw it, but it was raining, and I tried to take shelter in it, and it was his home, apparently, and we got into it, and I said something like I didn’t want to stay in his shitty cave anyway.”

“So you got turned into a tree because you said his cave was shitty and you’d rather be out in the rain anyway.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Has it ever occurred to you to just keep your mouth shut sometimes?”

“Has it ever occurred to you not to ask dumb questions you already know the answer to?”

“Fair enough,” Arthur said, and took another drink.

[claudemblems]

Zzz | Dan Heng

Summary: Your nap with Dan Heng is cut short by the realization that it's dinner time, but you have no intentions of giving up your place in his arms.

Notes: I'm writing for Star Rail now 🤭 Can you tell who my favorite character is lol

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“[Name], it’s time to get up. The others are expecting us.”

Who cares? you thought to yourself, not daring to move a muscle lest you should let your boyfriend know that you were, indeed, very much awake. He would have chided you for your remark despite inwardly agreeing with you. Someone has to be the practical one in this relationship, he’d told you once, but becoming your boyfriend had to be the least practical of decisions he’d made in recent years. With your insatiable curiosity and heroic soul, you always ran yourself head first into the unknown without a single thought of what danger could lie ahead. But you were a magnetic force that even Dan Heng could not repel, and like a moth to a flame, he found himself drawn to you–every part of you–and if that meant setting himself ablaze, then so be it.

Dan Heng being so hopelessly in love with you meant that you could get away with a few more minutes of “sleep”, right…?

Not quite.

“[Name].” He gently shook your shoulders, sighing to himself when you showed no signs of waking. “March is going to give me another one of her punctuality lectures if we don’t get to dinner on time, which is ironic coming from her, but still.”

You nearly let out a laugh before catching yourself, quickly disguising it as a disgruntled snore. March 7th already annoyed Dan Heng enough as it was, but nothing unnerved him quite like when she chastised him as if she were his big sister. The disdain on Dan Heng’s face could be seen plain as day to everyone around, but, much to his dismay, his friends found themselves entertained by his so-called misery. But he was used to the antics of his fellow passengers by now…mostly.

Still, he would have liked to avoid a lengthy scolding from March if possible.

“[Name]...”

After a few moments of silence, Dan Heng breathed out a sigh of defeat. Not one to go to dinner alone (not since you entered into the picture), he decided to join you in catching up on some sleep. He situated the pillows of his makeshift bed into a more comfortable position before laying down beside you, and carefully, as to not wake you, he wrapped his arms around your back, pressing you close to his chest. You were glad that he couldn’t see the obvious flush to your cheeks—not only to spare you your own embarrassment, but also because your cover would have been blown. Sleeping people don't blush at their lovers' touch, after all. You already Dan Heng right where you wanted him, and you weren’t about to let anything come between you and your bliss.

That was, until a hot breath fanned against your neck and you jumped.

“I knew you were awake.”

“Dan Heng,” you hissed, instinctively hiding your face in your hands. “I just wanted some more alone time with you. Are you really going to get mad at me for that?”

“I’d never be angry with you,” he assured, using his elemental powers to ruffle your hair, something he only did when he was feeling particularly affectionate. “Maybe a little annoyed, but you can make it up to me by being on the receiving end of March’s lecture this time.”

“All right, fine,” you sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your face. “Looks like I win again.”

“And what did you win, exactly?”

“Your attention. I’m keeping track of how many times you choose to give into my impulsivity over your practicality. So far, I'm on a winning streak.”

“You really are as unpredictable as that stellaron you have.”

“And like a star, my gravitational pull is too strong for you to resist.”

“How cheesy.”

“You just wish you had a stellaron that made people so captivated by your presence.”

Dan Heng smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. “Stellaron or not, my heart would still find its way back home to yours every time, My Starlight.”

“Dan Heng—! You can’t just get all mushy like that all of a sudden, I…”

“Flustered?” he asked, and just by the tone of his voice, you knew he was grinning.

“I’m telling March that our absence at dinner is your fault after all.”

[base0h]

Hey slayer. I've been violently ill lately and thought it be best to turn my misery into your profit, so here's a request for you. May I request the asl trio with an s/o that one night got really really sick?? Like I'm talking throwing up in the toilet, body shaking, feeling like you're going yo die type of thing. Thanks, have a great day and I hope you drink water 👋

a/n - nooo! I’m sorry about that anon :( I hope you feel better soon :) sorry in advance but I somehow make things cracky when they’re supposed to be serious 💀

warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, vomit, comfort

- this guy hasn’t gotten sick once in his entire life, so he doesn’t know what the fuck to do when someone gets sick- (have you seen the way he tried to handle when nami got sick 😭)

- today, you already felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. The thought of eating made you want to throw yourself overboard-

- the rocking waves that shook the boat back and forth only contributed more- you weren’t even sure if this was your sickness, or sea sickness at this point

- maybe both?

- the toilet was your new bestie, the amount of times you threw up in there were countless

- chopper did his best with what meds he had- but nothing really eased the sickness. Your head just kept banging, dizzy from how many times you’ve thrown up

- your captain wasn’t sure what to do- he just kept frantically calling chopper over to see if you were ok.. He knew that maybe his funny antics weren’t going to help you right now

- “Sorry y/n… But I think this is just going to pass tomorrow, hang in there.” -chopper

- You were glad it wasn’t anything serious, but this was horrible

- Don’t you worry, Luffy stayed with you the entire night. He stole a bucket from Sanji for you to throw up in, and tried to tell you funny stories to lighten up your mood

- “Okok- ummmmm. Ok so there was this one time where grandpa kicked me down into a hole at night and-“ (Luffy was abused /with love)

- whenever you tried to sleep, he’d pat your head softly to lull you to sleep, and he tried his VERY hardest not to make any noise

- he ends up making noise but- it’s alright, you still love him (I hope)

- “Y/n! Don’t think about green! Like- don’t think about bushes and stuff! Think about uh… Meat! Wait- no. Uhm….“

- You were getting even more sick at the mention of the color green.. And meat? Luffy no.

- “NO I’M SORRY! DON’T THINK ABOUT MEAT! THINK ABOUT UH- THE SKY? THE GOING MERRY! SUNNY?”

- with him naming random stuff extremely loudly, it was able to distract you from all those gross thoughts, good save Luffy

- you made it through the night (traumatized) but alive. You were glad Luffy was there to stay with you, even though he’s not the best doctor in town lmao

- he loves you, and he’d do anything to make you feel alright :)

- he’s very experienced with almost every sickness, and he’s read about almost every kind of medical book he has in his library

- but nothing prepared him for taking care of the person he loved, because books don’t cover that :)

- you already asked Dragon if you could rest for today, and that alone made sabo so worried. You never had to miss a mission.. This must’ve been really bad

- as soon as the ship docked, sabo sprinted, and I mean SPED towards the headquarters

- my man literally knocked poor koala over on the way 😭

- when he burst through the door like a mad man, he grimaced when he saw how bad you looked

- you were still sitting by the toilet, your face turning green in close intervals

- “Oh hey sabo- how was the m-“ *throws up*

- “Y/N?! ARE YOU OK?!”

- He’s about to faint, but he managed to drag the doctor out from his office, and haul ass back to you for him to check you out

- sabo never knew he could be so tense and anxious, he found out today that he suffered from major anxiety whenever something bad happened to you 😭

- The doctor explained that it was simply a really bad stomach flu, and it would go away by either tomorrow or the next few days

- sabo was glad it wasn’t anything serious! But still, he was worried about you, I mean… You weren’t looking great-

- He tried his best, but whenever you threw up, he felt sick as well- so he comforted you while closing his eyes and covering his ears (he’s trying)

- at one point he had to run off because he threw up too 💀 probably from both feeling horrible because you were going through this. And also, he’s scared of vomit unfortunately

- just because he’s scared doesn’t mean he’s not going to stay with you 24/7! He’s sitting with you, giving you whatever you ask and need

- he tries to talk about anything except vomit and the color green lmao- but he somehow finds a way to get back to it??

- “Yeah on the mission today- we were freeing some of our comrades and one of them- his name’s Steve. He was wearing this AWFUL green shirt and I swear-!” *throws up*

- “I’M SORRY- FORGET EVERYTHING I JUST SAID PLEASE.”

- this poor man is dying, but trying 👍

- like Luffy, this guy has never been sick. EVER

- but he’s an expert at sensing whether or not you’re feeling ok- it’s kinda creepy

- it’s like he knows if a sneeze is coming, and he says bless you early 0-0

- this time, he didn’t catch it since he was off the ship, kicking marine ass on an island

- when he got back, you were- let’s just say.. You’ve been better.

- Whitebeard was worried, and Marco took a look at you right away. No one was as worried as Ace though, this poor guy was on fire, quite literally

- he kept accidentally setting things on fire around him from how worried he was!

- “Ace, don’t panic. Stay calm.” -Whitebeard

- “I AM CALM.”

- no he is not calm at all

- Marco told you that this would just have to pass normally, and he could only give you some anti-nausea meds

- when ace could finally go into your room, he was asking every single question known to man

- “Baby are you ok? You need water? Hugs? Food? A bucket? Meds? Blanket? Marco to turn into a fluffy bird and for you to hold him in your hand?”

- “…what?”

- let’s just say if you need something, he’s on it

- whenever you throw up, he’s like- cheering you on?

- “Great job! Get all that nasty stuff out! You got this!”

- I mean. It helped I guess 💀

- he’ll give you cuddles, hugs, anything to help you fall asleep and get through the night

- you finally fell asleep on him after a couple hours

- but this poor dude needed to pee so bad at around 3am. But the thought of waking you up, only for you to start throwing up again made him so sad..

- he didn’t want you to have to go through it again if you didn’t have to!

- so he sucked it up, and held it until you woke up at 7

- “Oh hey ace.. I feel a lot better now, thanks for staying.”

- “Oh my gosh that’s great! But give me like- 10 seconds I have to pee so fucking bad-!”

- my man SPED to the bathroom, leaving a literal trail of fire 💀💀💀

- he was in there for a while 😭

a/n - ace is so sweet 🥹

[lord-of-the-margins]

Recent thoughts on Transgenderism

Tumblr, I think it’s time we approach the gender talk.

I’ve been very angry at liberals since about 2022. Before that (2019-2021) I was terrified of them. I grew up as a liberal in a very liberal area. I knew one moderate conservative. All I’ve known is liberal perspectives and ideologies for most of my life. I went to Evergreen State college for years (super senior). I lived in the epicenter of woke.

I’m not going to be a liberal ever again. Being around a lot of liberals, like in a city, makes me nervous. That’s how bad things have been in my little world. All the bridges have been burnt and every knife has somehow found its way into my back. I’ve since taken them out and re-calibrated my expectations.

Still, I have gender issues. They’ve gotten a lot better. And gender shit is still consuming society for no real reason other than to spread misery it seems.

Because of how horrifically poorly liberal society handles the issue of transsexualism and transgenderism, I’m scared to share the new insights I’ve made regarding gender dysphoria. The way the left fetishizes and commodifies mental illness is truly disturbing. The teenage impulse to commandeer and mimic mental illness for attention is never discouraged at any point. Not even in fully grown adults.

If I tell you what I’ve discovered, I’m afraid you will destroy yet another portion of the DSM in a misguided attempt to validate me. It is not validating. You are harming people. I needed the DSM to figure out what was happening. I needed psychologists to push back on my impulses. I’m glad they did. They can no longer do so without fear of being slandered as transphobic.

I look at the work you’ve done on behalf of the trans community and it reads as a collection of demons trying their best to fix society.

So yeah.

I like Tumblr for reasons other than politics. I don’t really want to talk about politics on here all that much. But this national gender dysphoria the younger generations all seem to have is hard to ignore. It can also be offensive. I’ve felt as offended by Zoomers and Alphas trying to be inclusive as I did from Gen X trying to hurt my feelings. So that’s been a fun little discovery I’ve made about myself and the world. Maybe you just can’t escape it. It’s part of life either way. And if you’re fucking around with gender, it’s inevitable. Maybe constant offense needs to happen just to make this demented form of self-expression that less attractive. Because a trans identity is not an attractive endeavor. It doesn’t make for attractive men and women. If you must do it, you need a thick skin just to look at yourself in the mirror let alone to hear what anyone else has to say about it. It’s signing up for a lifetime of disappointment and can only be explained through mental illness.

To conclude, what I found behind the mental illness was even more mental illness. Given liberals’ inclination to celebrate, imitate, and capitalize on mental illness, I don’t think it would be wise for me to tell you about what I did to make the pain of gender dysphoria go away.

What I will tell you is that I had to recognize that I suffered incredible abuse growing up. Truly exceptional abuse. I’ve been studying books on the matter on and off for about four years now. I had to learn a lot of new things and it was very overwhelming at first. It changed how I saw myself and even how I view reality. It’s been quite a journey.

None of the resources I used were made by anyone in the trans community. None whatsoever. All the people who helped me wrote their books in saner times. Your big gay trans social justice movement didn’t help me one bit. Just like feminism has never really helped me personally. Because exceptional people don’t need a parade to get their foot in the door.

Whenever I get close to woke people, I get nervous. I’ve gotten better at sensing that malevolent energy. Since I grew up with it, it took some time to suss it out. It took a massive fuck up, followed up with sticking to my convictions, to feel about fifty knives in my back before it finally sank in.

A lot of damage has been done and yet there are people under the left’s banner I could still care for. People who make uplifting art that has truly helped me. If I hadn’t found them, I wouldn’t have bothered writing this. So I guess this is for the innocent, the clueless, the kind.

I would only consider seriously talking about gender dysphoria with the public if and only if the DSM once again recognizes transsexualism and transgenderism as mental illnesses and the American Psychological Association allows its practitioners to discourage transitioning.

[can-you-like-legit-not-dude]

Unfortunately events lead to fortunate circumstances

(Hi this is my first fanfic I just really love Severus and I had an idea I want to put out so yeah I hope you enjoy this a oc so just change it if you don’t like it also a Severus x female original character and I suck at writing so if there’s bad grammar or spelling I’m sorry:,( also I was thinking of making it a whole series with angst and smut ? Let me know)

The sixth year was about to start with less than two days to go before Severus was off to hogwarts. At home he was miserable with an abusive father and an absent mother he never truly felt at home hogwarts was more of a home to him if only James potter and his insufferable dimwitted friends weren’t there it would be paradise but unfortunately Severus was never truly free always on guard always in his head full of doubt and misery. Before he new it he was on the train off to hogwarts he had woken up extra early and had previously prepared all his belongings nothing new all his old used supplies and books but he was prepared and ready to leave before his father had awakened and started his usual routine of violence and alcohol. On the train Severus was alone sat at the every end as far away from any one. He didn’t really have friends well not any more but one men Lucius Malfoy and his girlfriend Narcissa Black both being pure bloods and coming from rich and respectable families he didn’t truly trust them but it was as close to friendship as he had. He once had a friend a true friend Lily Evans was her name he had meet her one day at his father’s house she was in his eyes misunderstood like him and when they both received their letters of acceptance to Hogwarts. He was more than delighted. He was glad he didn’t have to face this road of magic without someone by his side and she truly was by his side. That is up to the fifth year when Severus had to open his mouth and call her a mud blood which ruined their friendship forever. At first he believed it wasn’t a big deal and that this truly couldn’t ruin a friendship that had last years but before he knew it she was gone as if they were never were friends as if they had never laughed together as if it never meant nothing to her and that hurt Severus he had once thought that maybe she could fall in love with him like he was in love with her but once more unfortunately for him that was not possible because lily already had her eyes on the same guy who made Severus school life a living hell none other than James potter himself.

As Severus sat alone remembering her smile so bright her eyes so green and pure her hair so red like fire as he’s lost in thought he was shaken from his daydreaming by a voice soft and quiet . Angrily he looks up and sees a girl with green hair brown sunken eyes and a chubby figure standing at the entrance she clears her voice and ask him if she may sit here at first he wanted to say no so he can be left alone again with his thought and dreams but on closer inspection he could see she was crying. He felt a tight sting in his chest his mouth open before he could think “ yes “ he said softly as if he spoke any louder she may run away. She sat far away from him and on other side. Quietly she read her book he could make out Frankenstein as the title. He kept staring at her intrigued he had never seen her before and she spoke with an American accent she was still sniffling drying her eyes from the tears she had shed. she looked like she hadn’t slept in a couple days , her hair was frizz and long but the oddest thing for him was she was dress in mugle clothing and she was reading a mugle book. Before he knew it they had arrived as fast a lightning she had gathered her stuff and was out the door he didn’t get a chance to gather the courage to ask for her name.

He made his way to the great hall where everyone that wasn’t new had been instructed to meet there he sat in his usual spot at the far end of the table reading his potions book, but secretly keeping an eye out for Lily. And there she was walking in laughing happily with James by her side smiling like an idiot in love right behind them are Sirius black and Remus lupin. Severus didn’t like Sirius at all much like James he was a bully but Remus wasn’t the same he had just chosen to stare and look as his so called friends humiliated, and belittle him no Remus was far worse than both of them in Severus opinion.

Soon after they were all sat came in Lucius Malfoy and his posse of Slytherin baboons. Lucius makes eye contact with Severus and choose to sit next to him “ Severus how was your vacation? No need to ask me you already know father took us to America were we stayed in the most expensive and lavish manner you should come with us next time is was much fun” . Severus just smiles shyly “ maybe next time “ he says with a deep and shy voice but doesn’t mean it he knew Lucius only said that to make himself feel better and doesn’t truly mean it. All of a sudden everyone goes quiet at the sound of head master Dumbledore voice roaring though the walls “Welcome black young wizard and witches it brings me great joy to be see each and everyone of you I assume everybody knows we have new faces young mind to help I ask we all be kind to the new comers and please if you see someone lost in these great halls remember how overwhelming it was for your first year here, try and lend a hand. without further a do let’s begin the sorting ceremony” everyone applauds and a line of new first year arrival everyone walking to the front forming a line in front of Dumbledore.

At the very end there she was talking with Hagrid she seemed nervous Severus made eye contact with her and she gave a small smile his way. Lucius asked Severus if he new her automatically he denied even seeing her smile acting as if he wasn’t interested in the sorting of the young minds as Dumbledore would say it he kept his head down in his potions book reading away at the already read words and scribbles he made.

“ Rose Evergreen come on no need to be afraid “ called out Dumbledore at the sound of that name Severus shoot his head up intrigued at the name “Rose “ Severus repeated. It suits her he thought watching as she sat under the hat waiting for the announcement of what house she would be sorted in she looked nervous and shy, her eyes still sunken, but no longer red from the tears “ Slytherin “ called the sorting hat and our table erupted in applauses and cheers. A part of me was happy maybe she would be my friend after all she’s new and doesn’t know of my reputation spread by James Potter all lies of course but none the less she’s in my house and new i have a chance he thought. She made her way to the black of the table right in front of Severus and asked if she can sit “ I suppose “ said Severus not even making eye contact. “ welcome Rose Evergreen being in Slytherin is an honor my name is Lucius Malfoy it’s a pleasure to meet you” Rose shook his hand “ thank you the pleasures all mine” Rose said in a quiet voice but loud enough to be heard Severus still avoiding eye contact choosing to ignore her and that’s how it went for the remainder of the time until the bell rang and everyone was to go to there house but Rose stayed seated “ we have to go to our rooms now” said Severus “ headmaster Dumbledore asked me to stay behind once I was done eating” Rose said now she was not making eye contact with him he didn’t like it he wanted to meet her eyes but before he could ask her what classes she had to try and make conversation with her.

headmaster Dumbledore called out “ oh perfect Severus just the lad I was looking for I’m glad you too are getting to know each other I was going to ask you Severus if you want to make a deal with me you see Rose here is quite behind since she is starting in her sixth year and I was wondering since you two will have the same classes and are in the same house if you could be her personal tutor of course you will be paid handsomely by her mother if that is what you desire or I may pay you in credits if you prefer considering you’re an excellent student, I think 2 Sickles every month would do better what do you say Severus?” Severus was speechless maybe he was meant to be her friend everything is lining up he doesn’t even have to try now they will be spending all their time together in no time they will be friends and he won’t be as alone he thought “yes 2 Sickle will be plenty I’ll take the deal “ and with that he shook hands with headmaster Dumbledore and looked at Rose she looked happy too and had a pink blush to her cheeks looking at him she said “thank you Severus I was told your the smartest of them all I can’t wait” he blushed at her compliment he couldn’t think of what to say and embarrassed that Dumbledore heard everything he just walked away to his room. Rose stood there wanting to follow him and keep talking with him maybe make him blush again he was cute when he blushed Dumbledore disturbed her thoughts ” he well do good in tutoring you now come with me I’ll show you to your room “

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Penpals

Words: 792

@wolfstarmicrofic

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21st August

Moony,

Please tell me you’re still coming this weekend. Evans actually replied to one of James’ (many) letters, and not just to tell him to fuck off, and he is being unbearable. If I have to hear one more sentence that starts “She said” I might just unforgivable myself. Please put me out of my misery, I’ve been helping Effie cook just to get away from the lovesick prick. Note that I can cook now. I’ll show you this weekend, I asked her to teach me how to make Samosas and they’re surprisingly easy. So I can make you samosas now! Hope the moon wasn’t too bad, wish we could have been there.

Padfoot

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21st August

Pads,

I’ll be there Friday night, I promise.

To be fair to James, it’s a pretty big deal for him. But rest assured I’ll tell him to shut up if you need me to. Lily didn’t tell me that she replied to him, so now I need to fire off a letter to her and ask her if she sustained a head injury. Please don’t off yourself, I don’t want to spend the week with lovesick Prongs on my own.

Samosas! For me? I’m glad James’ arseholery has resulted in something good at least. I will never tire of Effie’s Samosas, so the bar is high! I hope you’re practicing ready for the weekend, I expect to be wowed.

The moon wasn’t great. I have two ugly new scars on my jaw/cheek, just to prepare you for the weekend.

The wolf misses his friends, and I miss mine.

Moony

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21st August

Dear Lily,

I have received news that you sent a letter to James, and I was so concerned that I had to write to you immediately. Are you alright? Were you injured? How bad was the head injury? Do they think you’ll ever gain back full brain function?

But seriously, what the fuck? He won’t shut up about it and he’s driving Sirius mad. I’m spending the week with them and if he’s as insufferable as Sirius claims, I will be blaming you.

Hope you’re enjoying France.

Also, I told you so.

Remus

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22nd August

Moons,

Sorry the moon was shit. We’ll be back at school by the next one and it’ll be better. Also, I won’t tell you again, your scars aren’t ugly. They’re cool and rugged, and make you look distinguished and mysterious. I will hear no arguments on this subject, thank you. I also meant to ask how many books you’ve read this summer. I think you’ll be incredibly proud that I have read seven whole books in the last month. One of them was mostly pictures, but I think it still counts. I’m agonised that your only issue with my death is that you’ll have to cope with Prongs’ pining alone. Do I truly mean so little to you, Remus? I fear I shall never recover from this slight.

Yours,

Pads

PS: I made another batch of samosas and honestly, you’re going to swoon when you taste them. They’re so good. Effie seems to love bonding with me over a hot stove, and it’s very sweet. I love living here so much. I try not to think about what I’d be doing if I wasn’t here, but sometimes the comparison is helpful. Well, that got sappy. My next letter will only be discussing Quidditch and boobs to make up for it. Counting down the hours til Friday.

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23rd August

Pads,

Not long to go now. Can’t wait to see you later, and for samosas.

Seven books? Wow. That’s impressive! I’m a few ahead of that, but I’ve literally had nothing to do but read since July. Moony and Padfoot book club, when?

Can you believe it’s been over a month since I saw you? Maybe you’ve finally had that growth spurt you’ve been hoping for. My mum seems to think I’ve grown, but she always says that.

It wasn’t enough for me to tell you not to top yourself in general? Do you need me to tell you how much I’d miss you creeping into my bed at 3 am and hogging the blankets? Or how sad it would make me to not have to share every cup of tea I make? Weirdly, I would actually miss that, to be fair, so please be alive when I get there.

If I wanted to hear about Quidditch and boobs, I’d write to Prongs. Please spare me. I’ll probably be with you before it arrives, so there’s little point. I might send this right before I floo so you don’t get chance to reply. If so, hi, I’m already here!

Looking forward to swooning over you! your samosas!

Your

Moony

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