#I have a large chest but they’re still super comfortable and convenient

[renee-mariposa]

I’m wearing suspenders at work for the first time and holy shit, I don’t know if I can go back to wearing belts

[artemisia--hq]

This prompt is from @kittensocute ‘kageyama and hinata are stuck on a ferris wheel ride’

(*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

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When one thinks of amusement parks, games and rides, and generally a fun, happy time instantly comes into mind. This, however is decidedly not fun. This is a nightmare, a weaving of pure fear and terror, and Tobio swears if he ever manages to get out of here alive, he is so going to—

“Aaahh! Ahh! We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!”

“Stop yelling, dumbass!” Tobio yells. He rubs his face with both of his palms when Hinata still wouldn’t stop screaming like a banshee. “Death is gonna be the least of your concern because I’m gonna kill you first if you don’t! Stop! Yelling!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Hinata cries, “and you’re yelling, too!” He serves Tobio a stink eye, or as stinky as he can possibly muster with his ashen face and trembling lips. Tobio just returns the glare a hundred-fold, and that seems to do the job of shutting the idiot up as he looks away with an obnoxious huff.

But the sudden silence only gives way for Tobio to marinate in regret, recounting every action that had led to the disaster they’re currently in.

It was supposed to be a fun day in the amusement park, and it did start out that way. The first and last time Tobio had been to one was years ago, with Kazuyo-san and Miwa for his tenth birthday. It is one of his most treasured memories that is completely unrelated to volleyball, the only time he had fun without it.

But spending it with his friends (and yes, that includes that bastard Tsukishima, however mortifying that concept is), had been admittedly fun, too. They were all together during the first hour, playing games and getting into every ride they could. But he and Hinata had been pre-occupied with one-upping each other with a shooting game and before they knew it, their friends were out of sight.

It was Hinata’s idea to ride the ferris wheel to look for them. Now they’re stuck in a cramped, glass-covered carriage for fifteen minutes.

“This is why you don’t get to have any dumbass ideas, you dumbass,” Tobio grumbles out loud.

Hinata bristles. “Wh-what?!”

“This is all your fault in the first place.”

The other boy lets out a disbelieving gasp. “You’re the one who said, ‘oh yeah. Good idea,’” he says in mock imitation of Tobio, flattening his hair as he does so.

He’s not wrong, but Tobio can’t give Hinata the satisfaction of being right, either, so he clicks his tongue and looks away.

Silence once again engulfs them.

Tobio gazes through the glass of the carriage to take his mind off of certain things that’s been circling his consciousness like incessant, annoying flies, things that shouldn’t be given permission to reside in his thoughts.

Getting stuck a hundred feet above the ground is bad enough as it is—getting stuck with the worst possible person just makes it a hundred times worse.

Tobio risks a sideway glance out on the corner of his eyes. Hinata has his arms around himself, as if he’s purposely trying to take up as little space as possible. Which is a weird concept to wrap around—as small as Hinata is, his larger than life presence could more than fill up a room, with that beaming smile and loud, cheery voice.

But Hinata is none of that presently. He looks quite pale, wide eyes darting around for every creak and squeak of the ferris wheel carriage, small hands clenching and unclenching the sleeves of his sweater. The most frustrating thing of all: he wouldn’t stop chewing his lower lip, now looking red and swollen and just so ki—

Tobio has to give himself a few mental punches in the head to wrench his attention away from it and to clear his thoughts.

See, this is why he absolutely shouldn’t be alone with this orange-haired gremlin. He gives Tobio horrendous ideas.

“K-Kageyama?”

Tobio’s body temperature drops to subzero. Fuck, was he caught staring? Was he too obvious? He should run—wait, no, fuck, he’s trap, he’s done for—

“Wh-what?” He snaps, anger immediately acting as a reflex.

Hinata flinches, then he sighs, looking down on his feet. “Never mind.”

Something twinges in Tobio’s chest. God, why is he so…taken with this stupid idiot. “What is it?” he asks, cutting down his tone, just a little.

The other boy still has his eyes cast down, squirming. “Uhm…”

“Out with it, dumbass.”

Those round brown eyes squeezes tight as Hinata blurts out, “Canyouholdmyhands?”

Tobio sputters, “Wh-what?”

“Can you hold my hands, please!” Hinata yells, extending both of his hands like an offering.

Okay, either he has completely lost his mind, or Hinata has.

He goes for the more convenient option.

“Are you crazy? No!” He whips his hands behind him, for good measure. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m scared and my hands are cold!” Hinata grouches, and for a second, he has every intent to fight and demand for it, like he always does, but then he deflates and slumps on his side of the carriage. “I-It’s fine. That was weird, anyway. Sorry.” He then proceeds to hug himself again, shrinking within his sweater.

Hinata has never looked so tiny and vulnerable.

Tobio’s mouth starts to open when the carriage suddenly sways and groans on his hinges. Hinata screams and Tobio is already lunging forward even before his mind could even process things, and his hands grabs onto cold, clammy ones, fingers intertwining tightly.

“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die, Kageyama!”

“Sh-shut up! That was just the wind!”

“I-I don’t want to die, Kageyama!” Hinata wails, tears pricking on the corners of his blown, shaky eyes. “I-I still have to be good in volleyball! I still have to beat you!”

Tobio has never seen Hinata this distressed before, or even this legitimately terrified. He’s always been a scaredy-cat, but never like this. Tobio shuffles closer, gripping their joined hands. “No one’s going to die, so stop screaming.” He gives another reassuring squeeze, and it might be instinct or reflex, but Hinata squeezes back. “I won’t let that happen.”

Hinata sniffs. He blinks his glossy, golden eyes at Tobio “R-really?”

Tobio nods. “Yeah.” He hears some commotion from below and he presses his face on the glass. “Look, they’re doing something about it now.” He turns to face Hinata again. He could go in for a smile, but he figures that would only scare Hinata more than comfort him. “We’ll be out of here in no time, so just…think about something else.”

Hinata shakes his head frantically. “I-I can’t. There’s nothing in here that can distract me!” Then his gaze lands on their entwined hands. “Except, maybe…this.”

“Yeah, well…if that helps,” Tobio murmurs as he stares at their hands, too, before stalwartly looking away. If Hinata finds comfort in that, Tobio, on the contrary, needs a distraction of his own away from it. He settles at looking over the glistening lake dotted with tiny boats shaped like swans and turtles at the distance, but all of his nerve endings seem to concentrate on the point of contact between the, feeling each ridge and bumps of those rough, calloused hands wrapping around his own. Yet, they’re also unbelievably soft, if that makes any sense. Hinata just seems to defy all rules of the universe, from his jumps to the feel of his hands.

They are a bit sweaty, though, which is kind of gross. But Hinata being gross is not an entirely alien concept to Tobio, so whatever.

“Your hands are really warm,” Hinata says suddenly in genuine awe, as if he doesn’t mean to say them out loud.

Tobio’s hands are not the only ones getting warm—he can feel the back of his neck and his ears prickle with heat. “And really big. And your fingers are super long.” Hinata adds.

Tobio is half a mind to withdraw his hand and pocket them into safety, if only to keep them away from scrutinizing large eyes and to save himself from spontaneously combusting. But it does seem to calm Hinata, so it’s a risk he just has to endure.

He faces the other boy—the whole distract himself thing isn’t really working, anyway. “Obviously, dumbass,” he jibes, “I’m bigger than you everywhere.”

Hinata just nods, then he’s silent for a moment, before whispering, “Is this weird for you?”

“What, that I’m bigger?”

“No, stupid,” Hinata says with a roll of his eyes. “I meant, this.” He gestures at their hand, lifting them and letting it drop in the space between their knees.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Tobio says, although he’s not really sure if he’s saying that to Hinata or himself. “You’re the one who asked for it.”

Hinata shrugs. “That’s different. I didn’t think you’d be up for it.” When Tobio doesn’t answer, Hinata sighs. “I-I mean, you normally do this kind of thing with…you know…” he trails, his pale cheeks quickly rising in color, eyes looking anywhere but at Tobio’s face.

“No, I don’t know,” Tobio says.

Amber eyes finally locking with blue ones, Hinata says in the softest voice, “You do this kind of thing with the person you like.”

“I do like you.”

It must be the work of altitude and oxygen and all the science-y stuff Tobio never paid any attention to in class because it’s the only logical explanation why his mouth decides to run off without his brain. He resists the urge to face palm himself hard enough to propel himself into the next dimension.

Hinata, understandably, stares at Tobio like he’s grown an extra head plus a tail. “You—like—what?!” he screeches, face and neck dousing in crimson red, and Tobio figures, he’s faring no better. “Y-you like me?!”

“I-I meant as a-a friend!” Tobio stammers, shouts, whatever. “As a friend and—and teammate! Dumbass!”

“I-I know that! I-It just surprised me!” Hinata shouts back, even as his face burns even deeper, redder than the sun settling behind the mountains.

Then he snickers, quickly turning into a full-on laugh.

“W-what? What’s funny?” Trying to sound demanding is hard when Tobio’s heart is lodged in his throat and with his entire body on fire.

Hinata snorts out a giggle, then he’s smiling at Tobio, radiant and flushed and—

Beautiful.

Here, trapped in a cramped, musty enclosed glass a hundred feet up in the air, Hinata—his rival, his partner, and if it isn’t obvious enough, the guy he’s been crushing on for months, looks achingly beautiful.

“Well, that makes me happy, because I like you, too!” Hinata exclaims.

Tobio has never really understood the expression ‘on cloud nine high,’ but he’s pretty sure this bursting feeling within his chest must be pretty damn close.

Then the beaming smile turns into a teasing smirk. “Even though you’re sometimes mean and violent and calls me dumbass more than my own name.”

And Tobio can’t help it, he smirks right back. “Dumbass.”

Their nonsensical argument of who likes who continues until the ferris wheel starts to turn and move again, continuing even after their feet touch the ground, as they zigzag their way among the crowd in search of their friends.

With Hinata’s hand still clutched over his.

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Thank you for indulging my request (begging) for a prompt! I have to apologize, though, this is not as good as I’d like to be, but it does help me ease out of my writing slump. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless! ^o^

You can also read it on ao3 (with minor edits)

[nsheetee]

Can I request idol!Jisung and idol!Reader being rumored to be in a relationship and then getting caught kissing/making out in a private area

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 || Final

details: female reader, some kissing at the end

it’s the first you’re coming over to the dream dorm

jisung told you to dress comfortably since the most you’ll probably be doing is just hanging out

yet, you still felt the need to apply some cherry lip gloss and clip some pins in your hair

you stopped by a convenience store, buying some snacks so that you don’t go to the dorm empty-handed

you feel like you’re about to meet your boyfriend’s parents, not his friends and colleagues 

but it could almost be counted as the same thing

you know how protective dream is over jisung, your own group has the same attitude towards you

your phone buzzes in your pocket and you attempt to dig it out without dropping the bags in your hands

“when will you be here?”

“hurry up!”

“everyone’s waiting to meet you ;-;”

you snort at jisung’s texts, trying to type back a response with only one hand, but he sends another text before you can send a reply

“I’m nervous.”

you stare at his message, small butterflies erupting in your stomach at the two words on your screen

although you and jisung have only been dating for a few months, he brought up how he wanted you to meet the dreamies now rather than later

you’ll never forget his justification for the decision:

“these guys are important in my life, and so are you. I want the two important parts of my life to meet.”

just the memory of your shy and awkward boyfriend saying those words to you makes you giddy, and you type back a text with a smile on your face

“me too. I think that just means this is something we care about.” 

you put your phone back in your pocket as you walk the rest of the way to the dorm

you climb some flights of stairs once you’re in the building, and then find the door with the number that jisung told you

after knocking on the door, you hear some ruckus on the other side

some shouting and thudding, and then a shrill “park jisung! your girlfriend’s here!” before the door opens to reveal the one and only jisung

“hi! I brought some snacks.” you hold up the bags by your head as you make eye contact with jisung, chenle, and renjun

“I love her already.” chenle muses, making jisung send him a fatal glare

“you didn’t have to.” jisung mumbles to you, taking the bags out of your hands and allowing you to step into the dorm, closing the door behind you

“I couldn’t come here empty-handed, not when you guys are nice enough to let me join your boardgame night.”

“and now I love her, too.” renjun muses

after properly being introduced to chenle and renjun, the four of you walk into the dining room where jaemin and jeno are setting up drinks, a pile of boardgames in the middle of the dining table

“make more room, jisung’s girlfriend brought snacks.” chenle hollers, and jisung recedes into his hoodie, cheeks glowing bright pink as he hands off the snacks to jeno

“hey, she has a name.” jisung still stands up to his best friend despite his small voice and chenle starts teasing him, pulling his hoodie strings tight and attempting to tie them while jisung struggles to get away

“hi, I’m y/n.” you decide to introduce yourself to jeno and jaemin, and they politely greet you.

“are you sure you’re jisung’s girlfriend?” jeno asks, head tilting as he sets out the snacks you bought, “you seem too mature to be dating him.”

you laugh bashfully at the indirect compliment, your brain too scrambled to say anything back

“ah, don’t you know, jeno? opposites attract.” jaemin speaks as if he’s a wise, old man, “and besides, I think it’s good that y/n is more mature than jisung. it balances out.” 

“I like jisung for how silly he is. it makes me feel free and relaxed.” you blurt out, sending jisung a glance over your shoulder to find him still play-fighting with chenle

“oooooooh.” jeno, jaemin, and renjun exclaim, now making you recede back into your jacket, realizing what absolute fluff just came out of your mouth about their group member

soon enough, all six of you are sitting around the table, getting ready to play the first game of the night: uno

you really wanted to sit next to jisung, but before he could make it to your side, chenle and jaemin sit down in the seats on your left and right, forcing jisung to sit across from you on the round table

you could tell he isn’t super happy about the seating arraignment, but you lightly kick his foot under the table to get his attention and send him a smile

the first round of uno was more intense and drama-filled than anything you’ve ever seen before

cards flying

people screaming (mostly chenle, and right in your ear too)

dramatic falling down onto the floor when they loose (mostly renjun)

your stomach hurts with their antics, face hot from the amount of exertion it took to play a simple round of uno

you decide that it would be best to try a different game after jeno is forced to put his head down on the table to calm himself after losing to jaemin, the champ of the game

you played several more (less energy-filled) games, conversation flying across the table easily, as if you all have been friends for years rather than just a few hours

you freely told the dreamies about yourself, mostly things you could find on the internet, but you were happy to share these facts face to face

they apologized for haechan’s absence, as he’s with nct 127

and then promptly tried to pry you for information on your group’s next comeback

it was all fun and games, you truly loved spending time with jisung and his group members, and whatever nervousness you felt on your way here dissipated throughout the night

soon, you’re getting texts from your group members to come back to your own dorm, saying that it’s too late and you have a full schedule tomorrow

you say your goodbyes to the dreamies, allowing jisung to walk you down the stairs and out the front door of the building

“you don’t have to walk me to the bus station, I can make it there myself.” you say lightly, but he shakes his head

“no really. it’s okay, I’m not going to make you walk by yourself at night.” 

jisung looks so good in the night sky, his cheeks permanently lifted up and his skin shining with youth

you turn away from him before you get caught staring, walking next to him with your hands in your coat pockets

you both keep your heads on a swivel for any fans with cameras or paparazzi that may recognize you and want to take pictures

your relationship hasn’t been revealed, but there have been rumors circling around

it’s all fan speculation, the way you and jisung interact at award shows and on a few radio shows you’ve been on together

except it’s not speculation at all, your fans are definitely correct about you two dating, but the time to reveal your relationship has not come yet

“so… did you like hanging out with the members?” he asks

“yeah! I was nervous, but they’re so fun that I forgot about my nerves after we started playing.” you laugh and glance at jisung

he has a stern look on his face, and it makes your smile drop

“what’s wrong?”

“n-nothing. it’s nothing.” jisung is quick to turn away and deny the look on his face, but you can tell something doesn’t sit right with him.

“no. tell me what’s wrong?” you gasp, “was it me? did I do something bad?”

“no! no, not at all. I just…” he mumbles the end of his sentence and you lean in to hear better

“what was that?” he sighs at your question

“I just wanted to…”

“to do what?” you frown at how he keeps avoiding the situation, and jisung finally sighs loudly and blurts out his full sentence

“I just wanted to sit next to you! jaemin kept putting his arm around your chair and you kept talking to him, and I wanted to do all that stuff.”

you both stop walking, your eyes wide as jisung voices his feelings with his whole chest

you bit your lip, not sure how to contain all of the emotions brewing in you at his confession

jisung is never one to outright say how he’s feeling, but now that he has, it makes you too weak to handle his heartfelt thoughts

“you’re my girlfriend, after all.” he finishes, looking down at your shoes and shuffling his feet

there’s something in you that has no regard for where you are, how this might look to others walking on the street, or what the possible consequences of your next actions might be

you just want to kiss jisung

stepping forward and grabbing the ends of his jacket, you force him to look at you, silently asking with your eyes if this is okay

as a responce, jisung wraps his arms around your middle and brings you closer

you step up onto his feet and reach up, your lips meeting in a sweet kiss

he helps you balance on his feet, keeping you tight against him as he looses himself in the kiss

jisung loves how your cherry lip gloss tastes on his lips and how your cold hands feel as they slide up his chest and caress his cheek and neck

he rubs one of his large hands up and down your back, surprising himself and you when you shudder against him at the action

he just wants more

more of your kisses

more of you

but he remembers where you two are, and pulls away

your lip gloss has transferred over to his lips, and you giggle as your thumbs reach up to wipe away the stains

this side of jisung is so precious, you attempt to take in every single ounce of it before he turns back into the jisung you know so well

your affectionate touches are cut off by talking, and you and jisung turn to glance down the pathway, near where the illuminated bus stop is

several men hover near each other with big cameras, lenses pointed directly at you two

you both freeze, realizing what those cameras must’ve just caught

“uh oh”

you step away from jisung, but before you can get too far, he grabs your hand and you both run the opposite way from the bus stop, back to the dorm

the only thoughts filling your mind are how the next few weeks, maybe even months will be spent dealing with the events that happened tonight

but you can’t help the smile that plays on your face when you can finally let everyone know that park jisung is your boyfriend

[gunkyengines]

4, 7, and 9, for the s/i questions if you're still taking them!

Ohhhh my gods @jetsetspy I’m so sorry for answering this question so late ;-; My answers are under the cut!

4. Does your insert have a backstory? Tell us about it! How does their backstory, if any, define who they are? How does it reflect their relationships now? Their hopes and dreams?

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

Bellamy doesn’t have much of a backstory just yet, but I do know this:

·         Their family isn’t a huge part of their life, aside from a younger sibling, who, to this day, I have not yet named.

·         They want a sense of belonging somewhere, and have a number of self-image complications (it’s not really a set of “issues” to them, because they’ve found comfort in their body and self over time, but they still have wishes about what they could be seen as—androgyny is a tough line to straddle).

·         They hate the nickname “Bella”.

·         Bells, as far as I’m concerned right now, finds their sense of belonging amongst the ‘Bros ever since they just sorta started… tagging along, I guess? It was just an act of good will from the prince and his guards and a bit of hitchhiking on Bells’ end that got them where they are now.

·         They were originally a bit of a vagabond prior to meeting up with the guys. Hitchhiking, walking absurdly long distances, camping out often, all that jazz.

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

Junko is a character who I largely based off of my late-high school self for both self insertion and coping reasons, but a few things do set her apart from me. As in, she’s a pretty close approximation, but by no means is she a direct, direct copy of me.

She’s a student at Kosei Academy, simply due to the fact that I read on the wiki that it’s speculated to be a catholic school (I was brought up in the catholic education system, so, I could find some accuracy and likeness in that), and attended meetings at both the drama and art club there. She has bitter memories of the two clubs, as she was betrayed by the one major figure in both: her childhood friend Hideo Sunjaya. Since then, she’s taken to expressing her creative outlets in circles outside of her student life, and finds her passion in writing. At the time of Persona 5 canon, she’s set on becoming an editor. In the future canon, she does in fact achieve this goal. In this way Junko’s less of a model of who I was, and instead she’s what I hope to be.

She comes from a somewhat broken home, but has a strong relationship with her mother. Despite her current disconnect, Junko feels that she owes it to her parents that she has such a good understanding of her own identity, as they were supportive when she first came out as sapphic, and continued their support when she decided to be GNC and soon after came into her identity as a demigirl.

Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

Lizzie is a pretty lighthearted simulacrum of a more feminine version of me, translated loosely into the scope of the year 1899. I’m by no means a historian, but here’s Lizzie’s life.

Elizabeth Beaufort is a born and raised resident of the town of Valentine. Her mother is whatever the RDR2 universe’s equivalent of Quebecois French is, having moved to Saint Denis due to a family matter down there, and subsequently met her father. A Valentine resident himself, he beguiled her mother and convinced her to move to Valentine and live as the wife of a livestock owner (he comes from some blue blood ‘round those parts—as mentioned by the VDL in Chapter 2, the town is a goldmine of trade).

As a lady of relative privilege, life was… well, it was what a privileged life is. Sheltered, simple, and for the most part pretty damned easy. However, her naivete wasn’t something that her mother would stand to see Elizabeth keep, as she wanted a strong daughter who wouldn’t simply bend to the hand of tradition. Would I say that Lizzie would’ve most certainly rallied with those girls in Rhodes? YES. I’d rather die than portray any iteration of myself as complacent rather than progressive lmao. Elizabeth Beaufort flows in the vein of RDR2’s… I guess, progressive* writing? More** on that below, I guess???

*I don’t actually know how well it was received by everyone else, and honestly, I’m not even gonna try to speak on anyone else’s behalf but my own—I found that RDR2, despite some shortcomings, made itself a relatively hospitable environment for me as a white queer.

** Lizzie does struggle a lot with her internalized homophobia? Like… she had a lot of difficulty when she was younger coming to terms with the fact that she’s bisexual. This is less prevalent in her backstory considering it only ever surfaces post-canon. Yes, my SI and her FO came out to each other at random after being married to him for approximately 3 months. And it went fuckin’ great cos guess what!! Theyre both bi!! WLW/MLM solidarity!!! Don’t @ me.

Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Gilley was brought up amongst a gang of outlaws, and her being born a woman changed nothing about the things she was taught by said gunslingers. She left the group she once called family because of the leadership turning sour. From that point forward she went it alone, shifting in and out of her identity as Gilley Wright and her masculine persona (a pseudonym-turned-identity) Giles Kingsley, to keep herself straddling notoriety and anonymity.

·         Gilley only started wearing her hair short because of an encounter in which her longer hair was used as a means to pull her back into harm’s way. She lopped it off shortly after out of the feeling that it was a necessity, but soon found that she preferred it that way.

·         Thaddeus, her large draft horse, once pulled carts. She took him during a robbery so that she’d have an adequate mount for her getaway. The connection was instant between them.

Taeko Atou – Tokyo Ghoul OC

Taeko went by another name before her time in the 20th ward. She had another face, another life. But that was a self she had to leave far, far behind. Before “Taeko”, she was a reckless twentysomething ghoul living off of her father’s money, basking in the upper echelons of society, indulging in Scrapper shows and seeing humanity as nothing but an unprepared buffet. The danger ranking on her CCG profile demonstrated as much.

One night, however, her cushy life changed drastically. She went out drinking after a Scrapper show with one of her friends and decided to go hunting with her. Things were as usual, they stayed in their territory, but ended up getting apprehended by a group of Doves. During the getaway, her and her friend were separated, and she had no way of knowing whether her friend was alive. Drunk, desperate, and rather terrified, she decided to abandon all else and ripped her mask off to taunt the officers. They deserved to see her face, covered in gore and as ghoulish as they came! Nothing mattered to her at that point and she wanted to give them a scare…!

That is, until the next morning, when she recovered from her hangover and realized what she’d done. One of those Doves got a picture of her. In a panic, she called her father to ask for some sort of mercy money to clear the issue up. He’s frustrated with her constantly getting into increasingly worse trouble and tells her this: he’s going to pay for her to completely change her identity and her face so that she can move elsewhere, completely out of the way of harm. After that, he’d be cutting her off, leaving her with only the savings that she had prior to the cut-off. No more handouts.

This is when she became Taeko Atou, a pseudonym based off of her Scrapper show guest alias, “Miss AT”, and moved to the 20th ward. She has to adjust to average life a la Schitt’s Creek or Arrested Development.

7. What kind of clothing style do they like? What would they never be caught dead wearing? What’s likely in their closet right now?

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

·         Bells LOVES anything that’ll make them look cute and androgynous. They’re super partial to a femme prince aesthetic. Blouses and linens and vests and suspenders and a bunch of that cute shit. (Yes, this is my preferred fashion style and I wish I could look like that all the time.) They’re also into stuff like your average sundresses and such when it’s too hot for “princey” attire because hell yeah.

·         They’d hate to wear… hm… short party dresses? Cocktail dresses n shit. (No shade to those tho theyre cute. Just not Bellamy’s style.)

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

·         Junko’s super masc and butch in her presentation, binds her chest, does the simple graphic tee + jeans thing a lot. Think “Kanji Tatsumi but a lesbian”.

·         She lowkey doesn’t like wearing overly feminine clothes, like, she does not vibe with dresses.

Elizabeth Beaufort – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Lizzie is pretty standard when it comes to clothes: blouses and skirts, dresses, all just… really basic stuff. She likes simple and solid colours, maybe simple patterns. She’s also like… very cottagecore. Probably likes overalls if she ever wears ‘em?? I’m not a frickin’ historian and I’m not gonna google early 1900s clothes styles at this hour don’t @ me.

·         This is literally just because I’m basic as all fuck and I like a skirt/blouse or sundress style outfit. I don’t wear it often but that’s my jazz y’know?

Gillian Wright – Red Dead Redemption 2 SI

·         Gilley’s another one of my more boyish characters. She doesn’t deliberately go out of her way to look like a man unless she’s under the guise of her male persona Giles Kingsley. But let me tell you—she goes all out for those occasions, even electing to simulate stubble on her face with cosmetics. Think “cowboy drag king” and you’ll hit the mark.

·         Other than that, she just wears whatever’s convenient and comfortable.

 9. Their favorite foods? Colors? Activities? What do they enjoy in life? How do they express their joy for things they like?

As dumb as this sounds I completely burnt out after writing only 2 self insert likes/interests profiles, forgive me lol.

Bellamy Amplexus – Final Fantasy XV SI

·         Favourite Food: Bells is indecisive, but they will gladly eat anything Ignis puts in front of them. They’re thoroughly convinced he uses magic in his cooking. (They’re only half joking about that—it’s so good!) If they were made to decide a top three, it’d likely be Garden Curry, Broiled King on a Stick, and Moogle Mousse with Kupoberry Sauce. Honorable mention being Gyashi Chips (yes, they like what’s effectively Eosian kale chips).

·         Favourite Colours: ANYTHING PASTEL will win Bellamy over, along with any colour considered light and airy. White, silver, pale green, soft gold, baby blue, lavender, and also whatever the sky has going on at any given time of the day—they’re an aesthetic little shit.

·         Favourite Activities: Travelling, leisure shopping when funds allow it (if given the means, Bellamy will 100% engage in excessive retail therapy, no joke), swimming, loving their friends, talking about books and music, gardening, and (I know this sounds vain but bear with me) preening. Yes, they’d be a vlogger in another life. Don’t @ me

·         Bells loves to talk in excess about what they like, and on occasion, when words fail, they tend to express it through squealing, jumping, etc. If someone points out how passionate Bells is about these things, they’ll end up flustered and ask the person if they could continue. I guess you could say Bellamy stims? I’m not diagnosed with anything, so take this with a grain of salt, but I do have stimming habits.

Junko Hisayo – Persona 5 SI

·         Favourite Food: Junko’s pretty partial to miso soup. It’s one of her weaknesses. Total comfort food. (Bro I fuckin’ love miso soup.) As well as baked goods like cupcakes.

·         Favourite Colours: Red, black, silver, pink, blue, purple.

·         Favourite Activities: drawing (sketches, scribbles, doodles, colouring, etc., singing, baking/cooking, writing, and she learned to love gardening after getting close to Haru.

·         Junko tends to show her happiness through verbal and artistic expression, she’s also the type that tends to crack jokes (mostly shitty puns followed up by finger guns).

Again, thank you so much for asking, thank you so much for asking! QwQ Asks are still open, everyone.

[omnivorousshipper]

Shobbs- Shovel Talks: Part 3

Hello everyone! Here’s the latest chapter of Shovel Talks! I’m super happy everyone has loved it so much. This would have been the last part, but my mind decided it would have been a good thing to add an epilogue as well. So there will be a part 4 some time. This is also on my AO3: Omnivorous_Reader.

 I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Deckard really is the worst at giving Luke the Shovel Talk. But his family isn’t.

Part One: Hattie

Part Two: Owen

Final Part: Epilogue (Or Deckard’s Revenge)

Magdalene

“Bye Dad!”

“Have fun, sweetie!” Luke Hobbs called back as he watched the front door being slammed shut, and leaving him completely alone. Cocking his head to the side, he stared for a moment, still not sure what had just happened. 

For the last few weeks, Owen and Hattie had been staying in Los Angeles, both giving loose reasons as to why they were there. Luke had been able to see through the pair’s bullshit, but Deckard had just laughed at Luke’s concerns. 

“They always do this,” Deckard sighed and shook his head. “Every time I get with someone, those two freak out and try to scare them away. Just ignore them. They’re mostly harmless.”

Luke did not particularly like the playful wink Deckard had thrown at him after that last comment, but he decided to take it in stride. He did not say anything as he noticed the two almost became a natural occurrence in the Hobbs home.

It had started with Sam asking them to stay for the weekly Hobbs’ movie night. Luke still could not stop laughing at the look of horror that crossed Hattie’s face. Apparently she was not as good as her brothers when it came to children, and she had immediately started to panic when the thought of sitting through a children’s movie was mentioned. Luckily, Sam had chosen Moana, and Hattie had visibly relaxed. 

Since then, Sam would invite “Uncle Owen” and “Aunt Hattie” to help her with homework, to practice soccer, or anything else she could think of. It was obvious that the younger Shaw siblings adored Sam just as much as their older sibling, and that they were also just as much wrapped around her little finger as Deckard was. Luke had been happy to have another two people in Sam’s life, but he had put his foot down the third time Owen had let her skip school. 

Slowly, the small branch of the Hobbs family had fused with the Shaw family, giving Sam an even bigger support group, and Luke two more annoying younger siblings. And even though it had taken time for him to adjust- specifically to Owen- Luke had to admit he was glad they were in his life now. But that did not mean he did not get suspicious once in awhile. Like now.

For the last two weeks, he would walk into a room and see the two Shaws with their heads together and whispering. Once they noticed him, they would whip around to look at him and say nothing until he left the room. Again, Deckard just shrugged and told him not to worry.

“They’re probably plannin’ a heist that they don’t want you knowing about.” Even with that non-reassurance, Luke did not let his paranoia go away and watched the two closely. So, he knew immediately they were planning something big when they had asked Sam if she wanted to go to the zoo. Of course, she had accepted. Luke was not surprised by this, but he was extremely surprised when they begged Deckard to go with them. And then started to try and convince Luke to stay home.

“Come on, Luke. You just got back from a mission, do you really want to go out and about now?” Hattie asked, looking innocent.

“Yes,” he had responded flatly.

“She has a point, She-hulk. You just came back from Korea, you shouldn’t be runnin’ about,” Deckard piped up. Luke had raised his eyebrows in surprise, but the look Deckard was sending him was real concern, unlike the faux expression Hattie was sending him. So, Luke had conceded, and let the four go without him. 

And out the door they went, leaving Luke to just stare after them, wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Luke went to the living room, hoping to catch up on a few football games he had missed. Dropping onto the couch, Luke got comfortable and put his feet up on the coffee table. 

Maybe Hattie and Owen were actually concerned about his health. Or they just wanted to keep Deckard’s attention on them. Or they were planning to convince Sam to change her name to Shaw. Either way, Luke was happy to have the rest of the afternoon to himself, just to watch mindless television and not have to deal with any other human being for the next few hours. 

Turning on the TV, Luke leaned back into the couch and rested his arms along its back. I’m definitely going to enjoy today, he thought, letting a lazy smile spread across his face. 

That was until the window on his right exploded into a million shards of glass and sprayed across the whole living room. Luke let out a surprised shout and jumped off the couch, as a canister of tear gas landed in the middle of the room. Smoke started to fill the room, causing Luke to start coughing and eyes to water. Struggling to move around the furniture and get away from the smoke, Luke heard several more crashes from around the house.

Before he knew it, there were several bodies surrounding him. Luke could only see blurred figures as he tried to fight back and swung his arm wildly. He cursed when his punch met thin air. He could feel hands on him, trying to push him to the ground, but he thrashed out of their hold and was able to grab one of the intruders around the waist. Pulling them down, Luke pulled his arm back, ready to pummel the intruder. However, just as his fist was about to connect, pain exploded through his skull and everything went black.

~~~

Slowly, consciousness started to come back, along with a rhythmic pounding in his head. Luke’s body felt heavy and sluggish as he tried to blink his eyes and try to look around. When the darkness refused to recede, he shook his head slightly to help clear his sight. That’s when he felt the cloth of the bag on his head softly brush against his skin, and causing him to jerk his whole body.

All over Luke’s body, he could feel heavy, thick ropes holding him in place on the sturdy, steel chair he was sitting in. It felt like a large amount of the rope was criss-crossed over his chest, secure and forcing him to calm his breathing, unless he wanted the mass of rope digging in every time he took a breath. 

Taking several slow breaths, Luke gathered his thoughts and tried to assess the situation. Clearly, he had been kidnapped from his home. Whoever had him knew his abilities and had taken them into consideration and knew perfectly well how to counter them. What Luke did not know was who had taken him, or why. Racking his mind, Luke could think of dozens of people who would want revenge, but not many who could actually pull it off. 

And then it hit him. There were two people who he nearly saw daily that could have pulled this kind of stunt off. Who had been sneaking around the last two weeks, and were conveniently out with their big brother and had a perfect alibi.

“All right, you assholes. I get it- you don’t like me dating your big bro! But guess what? We’re not going to split, no matter what you do! You can threaten, beat, stab me all you want, but I’m not going to break up with him just because we have some kind of beef. So, if you untying me right this second, I might even consider not beating your asses too badly!” 

Luke’s had started off with him yelling, but by the time he was done, he was growling his threats, completely done with the two younger Shaw siblings. He waited a minute, hoping to feel his bindings loosen, but nothing happened. Jerking in the chair, and not being able to move it an inch, Luke let out a vicious snarl. 

“If you two don’t get your asses moving in the next three seconds, I will make sure that not even Deckard can recognize your faces. Because if I’m not out of this bullshit soon, I will crush your heads in so far, you won’t be able to tell your mouth from you asshole,” Luke ground out, patience completely gone. “And once I’ve done that, I’ll celebrate by having rough, extremely flexible sex with your brother, just like we have every night. And I’ll take him over, and over, and over, until he can’t even remember anything except the feeling of my dick. And even if you two somehow don’t get pummeled by my fists today, I’ll still get down and dirty with your big bro because he loves me and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

Letting out a breath, Luke glared at the blackness still encompassing his vision. He was ready to start thrashing and fighting, but the bag over his head was swiftly removed and he was blinded by a harsh light. Blinking, Luke could see that he was in a big, empty room, with only one bare light above his head, the rest of the room shrouded in shadows. Squinting, Luke started at the figure sitting across from him in a chair that must have been the partner to the one he was in. His eyes slowly adjusted and he was finally able to see who was probably the one who kidnapped him.

“Well, while it’s not my main concern, I am glad to hear Dex has a very vigorous sex life,” Magdalene Shaw chuckled, taking a sip of her tea. 

Luke could feel his jaw drop by several inches. The matriarchal Shaw was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, one hand resting on the chair’s armrest, and the other delicately holding an expensive tea cup to her lips. She was smirking back at him, waiting for his mind to reboot. She raised her eyebrow at him.

“While I don’t doubt Oh and Hat could pull this off, I was hoping you’d give me a little credit. Who do you think encouraged my children to gain the skills to take men like you down?”

Shaking himself, Luke snapped his mouth shut and could only stare. He had heard from the Shaw siblings and even Dom Toretto that Queenie Shaw was not someone you pissed off. And it seemed like he had a front row seat to just how dangerous she could be.

“Cat got your tongue, love?” She sneered.

“Not particularly. Just realizing why all your kids are bat shit insane,” Luke said, side-eyeing the woman across from him. Luke honestly had been expecting some kind of retribution for that comment, but instead, Magdalene just laughed at him, her eyes crinkling in surprise and laughter.

“My, not what I was expecting from you, Agent Hobbs,” she gave out one last chuckle, her voice suddenly turning icy. “And here I thought you’d be down licking my shoes, begging my forgiveness for the comments about my son.”

Luke could only cringe. “Didn’t mean to say those things in front of you, Ma’am. I thought it had been Owen and Hattie. I was just trying to scare them.”

“Then I think you should give up on that,” she said nonchalantly. “I doubt any of my children would even find you a sliver of indimidatin’, love.”

“You really know how to butter a man up, don’t you,” Luke responded, his voice extremely dry.

“Oh yes, dear. How do you think I kept my husband around for so long?” She said, giving him a wink. One that reminded him of the ones Deckard would send him when the Brit shared an inside joke with his siblings, one that Luke did not understand. He was not sure if he liked the eerily similar action between son and mother.

“Look,” Luke started. “Would you mind getting your boys hiding in the corner there to cut these ropes? It’s a bit odd to be talking to you tied up, Ma’am.”

“Ah, no can do, love. Those stay on,” she said, smirking and took another sip of tea. “I rather like having my men at a disadvantage. No matter what I’m doing with them at the moment.”

Luke tried to hide the look of horror and disgust that took over his face, but by the laugh the matriarchal Shaw gave, he was not very successful. “Ma’am please. If you brought me here to threaten me about Deckard, could you hurry it up? I would like to get back to enjoying my afternoon.”

“Well, bugger me then-”

Luke made a choking noise.

“I guess we’ll just have to move on to the boring part then,” she sighed and stood up. She made a signal to someone who Luke assumed was behind him, because the next thing he knew, there was a thick wire digging into his throat. He desperately tried to shake the person off, but no matter how much or which way he jerked his head, the wire kept digging in and cut off his air. Opening and closing his fists, Luke tried to flex his muscles to break the ropes, but nothing worked. He was completely, and utterly stuck. Gasping for air, Luke could only stare ahead at Magdalene, as she just stood in front of him, delicately holding her tea cup and smirking down at him.

“Now, I’m sure Oh and Hat already gave you the typical spiel, but let’s just make sure it sticks in that big, thick head of yours.”

Luke tried baring his teeth at her, but it felt ineffective as he could feel his face straining as he still kept trying to alleviate the pressure on his neck. He could feel himself becoming lightheaded, but that did not seem to deter the woman in front of him. She roughly grabbed his face, making sure he stared into her eyes.

“If you ever lay a hand on my boy, I’ll make sure that you never see daylight again. The last thing you’ll ever feel is the weight of a hundred thousand kilos of shite crushing you to death. Or maybe, I’ll have me boys here crush your head in so hard, you won’t be able to tell your mouth from your arsehole. So, are we understood?”

Black spots were slowly encompassing Luke’s eyesight as he tried to stay awake. Magdalene gave his head a small shake, demanding an answer. Luke gave a small, shaky nod.

“Good.” She smiled at him. Suddenly, the wire was gone from Luke’s neck and he began to gulp down air. Patting his face, Magdalene continued. “Because I have several rings already picked out that Deckard will love.”

Luke lifted his head up from where he had let it drop in exhaustion, and just stared at the older woman, still trying to catch his breath. Weakly, he asked. “What?”

“For the wedding, of course, love!” She smiled down on him. “Welcome to the family, Luke.”

The smiling, insane face of Magdalene Shaw was the last thing Luke saw before pain exploded in Luke’s head and everything went black again.

~~~

Blinking slowly, Luke woke up to the setting sun softly shining on him from where he was stretched out on his couch. What happened, he thought and slowly sat up. Looking around, he could see that the window in the living room was perfectly intact, and there was not a single piece of glass on the floor. And the TV had turned itself off because of inactivity.

Carefully standing up, Luke started to make his way around the house. Nothing seemed out of place, even though Luke could have sworn that he had heard other crashes when Magdalene’s men had taken him. Entering the bathroom, Luke examined his neck in the mirror, but there was nothing. No mark, no bruises to show the abuse it had taken probably a couple hours before. 

“That crafty bitch,”  Luke mumbled to himself and let out a near silent chuckle. He could not wait to see what else she had in store for the future. 

Hearing the front door opening, Luke left the bathroom to see the three Shaw siblings and Sam coming into the house. Deckard was leading the group, with a sleeping Sam resting on one of his hips, her arms wrapped around his neck. Behind him were Hattie and Owen, who closed the door softly as not to wake Sam up. 

All four were sporting different headbands that showed off the ears of various animals. Sam was wearing tiger ears, Owen had black bear, Hattie had snow leopard, and Luke was not absolutely sure, but it looked like Deckard had panda ears. 

“Well, aren’t all you adorable,” Luke whispered as Deckard walked towards him. Luke gave him a soft smile as he saw Sam’s eyes flutter open.

“Hi Dad,” she yawned and snuggled closer to Deckard. 

“Hey there, sweetie. Did you have fun?” He brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. 

“Yeah,” she giggled softly. 

“How ‘bout you tell him all about it tomorrow, yeah? You need to go to bed, love” Deckard whispered down to Sam.

“Ok,” she mumbled into his shirt, already half asleep. Sharing a smile with Luke, Deckard moved past him and towards Sam’s bedroom. Luke watched them go and waited until Deckard disappeared from view before he whipped back around to glare at the other two Shaws.

“Did you have fun today, Luke?’ Hattie asked, giving him a toothy grin. 

“Very funny. Did you help her plan that whole thing?” Luke demanded steely. 

“Don’t know what you mean, mate.” Owen smirked.

“Oh, don’t you dare start that bullshit with me, boy. While your guys’s mom is a very capable woman, I don’t think she could have timed it that perfectly,” Luke said, extremely irritated. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so paranoid. We were at the zoo with Deckard and Sammy the whole day, you know that,” Hattie said, her impish look not diminishing at all. Owen let out a little snicker next to her. Opening his mouth to let the two siblings have it, Luke was instead interrupted by Deckard. 

“Oi, Sam wants to thank you two for today,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of Sam’s room. Both Hattie and Owen gave him twin smirks as they brushed by him and into the bedroom. 

“What was that about?” Deckard asked, giving Luke a confused look.

“Nothing. They were just showing off their new ears,” Luke said and moved toward Deckard and wrapped an arm around the smaller man’s waist and let the other one stroke the artificial ears Deckard was wearing. “Speaking of which, are these supposed to be a panda’s?” 

“No, they’re a lemur’s,” Deckard huffed. “We let Sammy pick them out. And apparently she thought I would be a perfect lemur.”

“I can definitely see it,” Luke commented, adjusting the ears to sit better on Deckard’s head. “You’re just as tricky as one, equally as fast, and you’re about the same size, too.”

“You dick,” Deckard laughed, lightly punching Luke’s arm. 

“And just as adorable,” Luke said, waggling his eyebrows at Deckard, who let out a snort. “How about you and me act like animals and get wild tonight?”

The smaller man just stared at Luke, before his face almost split in half with the smile he flashed Luke. “That is by far the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Luke smiled back.

“I can’t believe that it did.” Deckard grabbed the back of Luke’s neck, pulling him down to let the bigger man ravage his mouth. They stay connected for some time, barely letting each other have any air before they went back at it. But, finally, Luke pulled back to stare at Deckard, whose face was a nice pink.

“Come on, Princess, let’s get wild,” he whispered against Deckard’s lips. Deckard gave out another amused snort before leading the way to their bedroom. The siblings might have not actually heard his threat earlier, but he was definitely going to deliver on it. Because their room was right up against the wall Luke and Deckard’s bed was facing. Letting a small smirk on his face, Luke let the promise of tonight purge any thoughts of manipulative mother-in-laws and annoying little siblings.

[professordrarry]

It's an open secret to everyone in the auror department that aurors Malfoy and Potter have it bad for each other, but it all culminates when Ron and Blaise accidentally bond them together. Will Harry and Draco be able to hide their feelings on such close proximity?

Hey, can you believe I’ve never written a bond fic???? Sorry because this is gonna be a  r o u g h ride. Also it’s accidentally 2 k……

“Blaise, do you think we actually have to tell them?” Ron had finally pulled off his robes; Blaise was pretty grateful since they stank like the tubers they’d been bagging up since noon. Grateful, too, for other reasons, even if Ron was married and vanilla and definitely not interested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Blaise crossed his arms to glare at Ron. “Do you honestly think they won’t notice?”

“Well, okay, but see,” Ron insisted. “I’ve been thinking about it since this morning. I’m honestly nor sure they would notice, Zabini! They spend literally all their time flirting and teasing each other anyway. And they’re partners. It’s not like the proximity will be a problem.”

“Yeah, sure,” Blaise scoffed. “Until they try to go home, Weasley!” Ron scowled. He cleared his throat. Blaise sighed; reticent, Weasley was dangerous. It almost always ended up with Blaise doing a shit tonne of paperwork and sitting in front of the Wizengamot.

He didn’t need to tell anyone that the plans were almost always brilliant and worthwhile, as well.

“What’s your brilliant idea, then?” Blaise asked reluctantly.

“We put them on the Maffin case.”

Blaise’s head snapped back to Ron; his brain was working so fast, he barely had time to actually notice the freckles that decorated the man’s chest in a beautiful splatter or the scars that marred the surface in a masterful maze all down his arm.

“That actually is Brilliant,” Blaise murmured, thoughts whirling. “Bloody hell, Ron. How long have you been working on that one.”

“Took me about twenty minutes to get there,” Ron admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and looking extremely uncomfortable. “I’ve just spent the past four hours working up the nerve to suggest it.”

Blaise laughed. “Don’t know why’d you be nervous, mate. We’ve all agreed those two need to get over themselves. This is just…an unfortunately convenient confluence.”

“So wait,” Ron clarified. “We agree. We don’t tell Draco or Harry about the side effects of the plants we confiscated this afternoon?” “Absolutely not.”

“And also, we put them on the unsolvable case that has had the last three Auror teams working on it basically living at the Ministry?”

“I think you may have accidentally become the most brilliant of all Ministry employees, today, Ron. Are we sure that accidental amourous bonding is the only side effect of Matiligha Root?”

“Fuck off,” Ron joked, pulling a shirt on his head and swinging his bag on his shoulder. “I’m going home to shower with soap that doesn’t smell like a very shit hotel. Night, Zabini.”

“Tomorrow, Weasley. I’ll go put in the memo before those idiots try to leave.”

“This is going to be hilarious.”

Draco was exhausted. He hadn’t slept properly in a week. Just like the last three teams that had tried to crack the Maffin ring of illegal potions transfers, he and Potter had decided to just stay in the office so that the alarms they set would actually result in an arrest. So far, they had not only been entirely unsuccessful, but Draco’s back may never again work properly thanks to the ancient cots Harry had found in a dingy closet on the fourth floor. By all rights, he should also be about ready to kill his partner. The fact that he is actually sort of content with the proximity is sort of alarming. More worryingly, he is actually starting to appreciate the gentle midnight snoring and morning coffee shared while sitting cross-legged on their separate beds.

“Morning,” Harry said blearily, returning to the office with large mugs and a tray hovering in front of them. “We’re in luck. Marjorie decided to do her job today and turned up on time to make pastries. These were outside the office door.”

“Oh Merlin, they smell good,” Draco groaned, taking a croissant and a scone, deciding immediately that he didn’t want to choose.

“I hate that you can eat like a twelve-year-old and stay fit,” Harry said with a yawn, handing him a coffee and settling down beside him on Draco’s mattress.

Draco froze. They were very close; his face heated and he shuffled slightly away from Harry, who frowned. Draco knew the problem. He didn’t want to move away. He was actually pretty sure at this point that Harry didn’t want him to move away either, but he had no idea how to handle that in the middle of their office floor. It had become much more noticeable this week; they’d been spending way too much time together. It was getting harder and harder to deal with the gentle teasing tone, the subtle touches on the shoulder instead of saying his name to get his attention, the fact that they frequently side-along Apparated unnecessarily, or the distinct reality that when they landed, they often stayed attached at the arms for a hiccup longer than was strictly required to regain balance.

The more important realisation of Potter being this close, though, was that the gentle hum of the air around them seemed to still and the ache in the back of his skull disappeared the moment Harry sat. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Headache again?” Harry asked, brows knitted.

“No, actually,” Draco exclaimed.

“That’s what I was just noticing. First time in days.”

“You should go see a healer,” Harry muttered around a bite of scone, leaning back against the wall and drawing his knees up.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just stress. We should both go home tonight.” Draco shrugged.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry agreed. “Could use a proper shower and a mattress.”

Draco nodded. Not to mention an actual wank, he let himself think.

The day was uneventful; they did paperwork, managed to convince the uppers that they were making progress, and finally, packed up to go home.

“Night, Malfoy,” Harry said, drawing his coat over his shoulders. “Think maybe tomorrow we should go back up to Scotland to check on that uncle thing again.”

“Yeah, alright,” Draco replied, passing Harry his briefcase.

They nodded to each other and Harry stood on the Apparition spot.

Draco fell immediately to the floor; his head split in two, and there may have been a scream emitting from his mouth, but he passed out before he confirmed it. In the last moment of his consciousness, he managed to punch the badge on his chest until it glowed purple.

When he opened his eyes again, his head was in Harry’s lap, and there was a distinct smell of ozone in the office. “There’s a healer on the way,” Harry said hoarsely. “You’ve been out since I turned back up. Did you see what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Draco insisted, trying and failing to sit up. He collapsed again and Harry’s hand, he noticed, went back to his hair, stroking it back from his face gently.

“Well, obviously something happened. I left and then—”

“The headache just got really bad,” Draco interrupted.Harry stared at him for a moment, then pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head. He sighed.

“Draco, when did the headaches start?”

“I told you, when we got the Maffin case.”

“Yeah, and do you remember the day of Zabini handing off the Maffin case.”

“Assume that right now, I don’t remember much,” Draco said softly, his head fuzzy and warm in Potter’s lap. He was afraid to shift too much, make Harry aware that he was still there.

“Matiligha Root,” Harry explained. “I haven’t thought about it until now because this case has been so stressful. Of course you’ve had a headache and passed out when I left. We’re bonded.”

Draco’s brow tightened. “No, we can’t be. We’d have noticed. The bond affects…they’re super obvious. Overwhelming attraction. Inability to be apart. Emotional upheaval.”

Harry looked away and Draco knew he was not imagining the extreme blush on his face. “Well, usually, yes,” Harry said gruffly. “Only…”

“What?” Draco demanded, sitting up in alarm despite the spinning it caused him. “Say what you’re thinking. Am I dying? Is this a particularly potent bond? We both know you’re the plant guy around here, so out with it.”

“No, it’s just…” Harry hesitated. “Well, I mean, the root hasn’t been studied on people who are… erm… already…”

Draco suddenly understood. “Oh,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Harry returned, now the colour of a beetroot. “I think maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. That’s why I didn’t get the headache.”

Draco stared at Harry for a moment, taking in the implications of that last phrase; surely, Draco thought, even he was not this clueless? Yet, it seemed that that was what Harry meant. He seemed to be convinced that he was the only one who would not have noticed a sudden influx of flirting, attraction, desire for one’s Auror partner.

Ignoring the dizziness, Draco made a decision; he crawled forward toward Harry and gently took his glasses off his head. He didn’t want to break them. He kept advancing until he was leaning into Harry, then kept going. He slowly backed them both onto the floor and let his weight collapse onto Harry, who didn’t seem to be breathing.

“I have a headache because I can’t bear to be more than a foot away from you,” Draco whispered, pinning Harry to the floor a little less gently. “So which of us do you think would have noticed first?”

He kissed Harry gently. He didn’t want to be gentle; the hum had grown louder, but it was warm and comforting. He wanted to ravage this man right here on the floor, wreck him for all others, possess him until there was no doubt in his mind that Draco felt the same way. He didn’t even really care if it was only the bond that made him feel this way. He managed to restrain himself only because the distant memory of an approaching Healer balanced with sudden irritation. He pulled back and smoothed out Harry’s hair. Harry took a deep breath, likely the result of lack of oxygen.

“You realise, of course, that we have to kill Weasley and Zabini now,” Draco said quietly. Harry grinned. “Do you think they knew?” 

“Draco, not to be indelicate,” Harry replied, drawing his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling him back down to him. “I think that it’s possible everyone knew?” 

[annzybwrites]

Truth or Dare: Coming Out Edition (Chapter 3: Drama Time)

Read on AO3 | Donate to my Ko-Fi if you like | Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4 , Ch 5, Ch 6

A South Park Fanfiction ft. Creek, Style, and Bunny

“What!?” Stan was the first to speak, his eyes so wide that the red lines in his eyes were showing. “Dude?” 

Kyle sighed, looking away. He seemed more tired than embarrassed. “Stan, come on. You must have assumed by now. Evidently Craig realized it.” 

“Maybe I just have a good gaydar,” Craig tried to joke. He was the one that started this, but he was quickly regretting adding more drama to this night.

“You never -!” Stan stopped, quieting his voice. He leaned in closer to his best friend, almost pleading, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Does it matter?” Kyle challenged, snapping his head over to glare at him. “What, are you regretting all our sleepovers? Questioning every hug? God, you’re so immature sometimes.” 

“I didn’t say any of that!” Stan frowned, his expression pained. “I’m not thinking any of that, I just… I’m your best friend -” 

“Are you?” Kyle didn’t look away, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. “Face it, Stan. We’ve been growing apart for years. God, it feels like you go through periods of wanting nothing to do with me, and then clinging to me like a security blanket. It’s exhausting.” 

Stan started to look like he was tearing up. He knew Kyle could be a hothead sometimes, but was he really saying all of this shit in front of everyone? “Can we talk in private? Please?” 

Kyle looked ready to snap at him again, but thought better of it. He took a deep breath and stood up. “Fine, whatever. Kenny, you take my turn.” 

The two “super best friends” walked off, the rest of the circle watching them. Once they were out of the room, they had a very important decision to make. 

“We’re definitely going to spy on them, right??” Clyde hissed to everyone. “I do not want to miss this!” 

“I’m with Cookie over there,” Kenny seconded. “I’ve been waiting for this for years, guys, you have no idea.” 

“Spying isn’t cool,” Token argued, frowning at them all in disappointment. 

“Yeah!” Butters agreed, crossing his arms with a soft pout. “How would you like it if you were spied on?” 

“Come on, Bubblegum,” Kenny pleaded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You can’t tell me you’re not a little curious? Besides, I wanna know what’s going on with my friends.” 

“The longer we deliberate, the more we miss!!” Clyde interrupted. “Anyone who wants to spy, come with me!” 

In the end: Clyde, Kenny, Jimmy, and Craig all decided they wanted to go and spy. What can they say - they’re nosy bitches. 

“I’ll tell you the important parts,” Craig promised Tweek as he walked off with his friends. 

Once they were gone, Token sighed and looked at the rest of their group. “Well… now what?” 

“Timmy!” He raised his hand before looking at his communication screen. He finally had one of those computers that could read out the words that his eyes looked at. “Let’s bake a cake.” 

“Ooh!” Butters clapped his hands in excitement. “Yeah! Craig always goes on and on about Tweek’s baking - I wanna try it!” 

“R-really?” Tweek smiled softly. He knew Craig loved his baking, but it was nice to know that he talked about it with everyone else, too. “Sure, I’ll bake you guys a cake.” 

~~~~~

Stan and Kyle headed to the designated sleeping area for their sleepover - a large room filled with several twin beds. Five against each wall with the feet of the bed facing the center, to be more precise. 

The door closed quietly behind them, and they each took a bed to sit on, facing each other. 

“I’m sorry,” Stan started with, his fingers digging into the comforter. “I… I know I’ve been weird around you. And I know I should have apologized earlier, I just…” 

“Didn’t want to admit you’re a dick?” Kyle snipped. 

“Dude, come on.” Stan looked up at him, the corners of his eyes really watering now. His voice cracked as he continued. “I’m really trying, Kyle.” 

Kyle clamped his mouth shut, his eyes searching his face. He took a breath, his anger seeming to calm just a little. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said all that stuff in front of everyone.” He looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I did mean most of it. Sometimes I feel like I’m being bounced around at your convenience.” 

“What do you mean?” Stan asked. Not to belittle his feelings, but to genuinely seek insight into what was bothering his friend, and how he could possibly fix it. 

“You honestly don’t know what I’m talking about?” Kyle was starting to get pissed off again. “How about when you blow me off to go hang out with the football team?” 

“I have to do that!” Stan interjected, pushing down at the bed just to do something. “Coach gets pissed if we miss too many “team bonding” experiences, even if they’re last-minute.” 

“Oh, of course.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Right, it’s the coach who allows the football team to drink alcohol for “team bonding.” Right.” 

Stan winced, staring down at the carpet. He had no excuse for that part. He knows Kyle doesn’t like his drinking, since he tends to either throw up or black out most times he does. He usually just doesn’t tell Kyle when he drinks. “The coach doesn’t know about that part.” 

Kyle shook his head, his teeth clenched tight in anger. “Fine. I have other examples anyway.” He scooted back on the bed, crossing his legs and holding tightly onto his ankles as he spat, “Let’s talk about Wendy now, and how you ignore me when you two are dating, and then never leave my side when you guys break up.” 

“You’re exaggerating,” Stan argued weakly. “I talk to you at school every day -” 

“Yeah, that’s school,” Kyle interrupted, his hands tightening around his ankles. “But all of your free time is spent with her, and if I text you there’s no guarantee you’ll even respond in the same day.” 

“I…!” Stan ran his fingers through his hair. He felt like his brain was scrambled, making it hard to say anything. “I’m sorry -” 

“And while we’re on the topic,” Kyle continued relentlessly, “why the fuck do you keep going back to her? It’s obviously not going to work out! Get over her already!” 

“Kyle, stop.” Stan bowed his head, pulling lightly at his hair. “Please, let me think.” 

Kyle scoffed and rolled his eyes, continuing on before he really thought about how hurtful he was sounding. “And what was with that question you asked Craig? That made it pretty fucking obvious that you don’t consider yourself 100% straight, and yet you’re mad at me for not telling you?” 

“I didn’t tell you because I’m not even sure myself!” Stan yelled, a few tears starting to fall now. “I don’t know if I consider myself, gay, or bi, or fuck - even a girl, okay!? I’m just trying to figure it out on my own!” 

“You still could have told me!” Kyle yelled right back, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Maybe I can help you figure it out.” 

“Oh, right - with that fucking judgemental, holier-than-though attitude??” Stan spits out, starting to choke on his tears. The more he spoke, the harder it became to breathe. “You’d ask me questions and I’d keep saying ‘I don’t know,’ and you’d call me an attention seeking idiot just because everything’s so fucking jumbled in my own brain!” 

“I wouldn’t have -!” 

“Sorry we’re not all as smart as you, Kyle!” Stan interrupted. He slid off the bed and started pacing, running his hands through his hair as he sucked down air and tried to make sense of any thoughts running through his head right now. “God, I didn’t know you hated me so much!” 

“Stan, you’re hyperventilating -“ 

“Just shut up!” Stan croaked out. He wanted to say more, but his breathing became faster and faster. His world started blurring, spots of color appearing at the edges of his vision. 

Kyle felt his anxieties rising, fearful of Stan making himself faint. “Stan,” he tried speaking quietly, slowly getting off the bed. “I really think you should lay down.” 

“I don’t…!” Stan stumbled in his pacing, almost falling face-first onto the ground. 

Kyle ran up to him then, grabbing him by the shoulders to steady him. He clenched his teeth as he took in Stan’s irregular breathing, watching his eyes dart back and forth in a panic. “Lay down.” He tugged Stan over to the nearest bed without much struggle, helping him get on so he could lay on his back and focus on breathing. “Take deeper breaths or you’ll faint.” 

Stan opened his mouth a bit wider as if to respond, but all that succeeded in doing was stopping his breathing completely. He had to restart himself with a gasp, closing his eyes as he focused on pulling air in and out of his lungs as he laid on the bed. He fucking hated this - god it was so annoying. Yet his anxiety always, always, got this bad when he was trying to figure out what the fuck he was, or what the fuck he wanted. 

He could think of a lot of nights where he just lay in bed, gasping like this, as he tried imagining himself dating a boy. The idea of kissing a boy wasn’t the problem, honestly - in fact, he was more okay with that than he thought he’d be. But then his mind always made him think of how everyone else would react. How everyone would stare at him, whispering about him, making up all sorts of rumors about him, just because he’s with a boy. 

That’s what bothered him the most; that idea that no matter what you do or what you accomplish, that gay label is always a part of it. He wouldn’t just be Stan Marsh - he’d be Stan Marsh, a gay boy. A gay football player, a gay animal lover, a gay insert-title-here. He hated it. He really didn’t want to stand out anymore than he had to. He wanted people to like him, he wanted to seem normal. He didn’t want everything he did to just boil down to his sexuality. 

Not to mention he wasn’t even sure if he was gay. He really did like Wendy - he had ever since he was a little kid. He didn’t feel like that was fake, that he was fooling himself into liking her. So, that left the “bi” or “pan” label, which honestly was even harder for people to understand. 

And, Stan had to admit, he’d also been questioning his gender lately, as if all this other shit wasn’t enough. His issues with gender had started long before, back in fourth grade, but he was able to kinda just… push them aside. Until one day, last year, Kenny dared him to put on a dress, and it felt… nice. Not “right,” or anything like that, just… nice. Like he wouldn’t mind wearing more dresses. 

Yeah, he’d quickly shoved that shit down deep inside. He did not want to deal with that right now. But he knew he had to - he knew that at some point he had to make a decision. If for no other reason than for his own sanity. 

And he wanted to talk to Kyle about it all. He really, really did. But Kyle was kind of the reason he was questioning his sexuality to begin with, and that was terrifying to admit. To himself, and his best friend. How was he supposed to explain that whenever they were hanging out, playing games, laughing together, that he felt this urge to just… pull him close? Run his fingers through his hair? Kiss him? He couldn’t explain that. Not without dying on the spot. 

“Stan,” Kyle’s voice was quiet for once, gently bringing him back to the current moment. “Are you feeling better?” 

“Yeah.” His breathing was normal again. Now he just felt exhausted. “Better.” He sighed, turning his face away from him. “I’m sorry.” 

“Dude, you don’t have to apologize,” Kyle told him, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to… I’m the one who should apologize.” He looked down at the floor, frowning. “I should have realized this is difficult for you. Hell, it’s still difficult for me.” 

“It is?” Stan turned to him in surprise. “You seem so sure about it though.” 

“I’m sure I’m not straight, yeah,” Kyle shrugged, taking his hand away from Stan to rub at his own arm. “But other than that? It’s debatable.” 

“Really?” Stan turned on his side, curling up a little as he looked at Kyle. They locked eyes, and he whispered, “When did you… figure it out though?” 

“Oh, god.” Kyle flushed, looking away in embarrassment. “Um… awhile ago, I guess. I was planning on telling you soon, actually. It was gonna be my New Year’s resolution.” 

“Oh.” Stan felt guilt chew at his stomach. He swallowed and looked down at the bedspread. “Fuck, I reacted so badly to the news, too. I’m sorry, man.” 

Kyle sighed, his eyes closing. “No offense, but I kind of expected it. Still hurt though.” 

Stan winced, moving to sit at the edge of the bed again so he could take Kyle’s hand. He squeezed it softly, just staring at their joined hands as he whispered, “I really am sorry, Kyle. For everything. Reacting like that, ignoring you… I’m trying not to do that anymore, I promise. Please, just… give me another chance.” He felt himself starting to tear up again. “You’re the best thing in my life, Kyle. I don’t want to lose you - I was just being an idiot. Hell, I’ll still do stupid shit.” 

“Stan,” Kyle stepped closer, pulling his hand away just so he could wrap his arms around Stan in a hug. “I don’t want to say everything’s okay, but… I forgive you. If you’re actually serious about this, anyway.” 

“I am!” Stan insisted, clutching desperately to Kyle. He buried his face against his neck, whispering again, “I am.” 

They held each other for a few long moments, both listening to the other’s rapid heartbeat. Stan still felt like choking up, even though a calmness had settled across his body. He stiffened a bit when Kyle began talking. “So… when did you realize you’re not straight?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Stan was quick to say, not moving his face from Kyle’s shoulder. “Not here, not,” his voice cracked, and he swallowed before finishing, “not right now.” 

He could tell Kyle was just a bit annoyed. “All right…” He sighed softly, his tone more accepting as he continued, “All right. I’ll let you do this at your own pace. I got to, after all.” 

“Thank you.” Stan lifted his head, smiling a little. “Really, Kyle.” 

“You’re welcome.” Kyle smiled back. 

For a flash of a moment, they both felt like kissing each other. 

Which, of course, they both ignored. 

~~~~~

“Oh, my god,” Kenny whispered, his ear plastered to the bedroom door. 

“What? What is it?!” Clyde was way too invested, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His own ear had been pressed against the door at first, but his hearing was somehow worse than Kenny’s and he could only hear muffled sounds. So he backed off and had Kenny narrate. 

Kenny fixed him with a blank, ‘I’m-so-tired-of-this-shit’ stare as he groaned, “They’re totally gay for each other and they’re just too chicken to admit it. I should know, since they both have basically told me.” 

“Ooooh!!!” Clyde’s eyes were practically sparkling at all this juicy gossip. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” 

“Because I knew if you harassed them about it they’d never get together.” Kenny scoffed, moving away from the door. “We better get away - they’ll probably come out soon.” 

“We still w-want details, Kenny,” Jimmy said as the four of them walked off. 

“The other guys are in the kitchen, by the way,” Craig cut in. “Tweek texted me.” 

“Ooh, are they baking!?” Clyde began drooling until Kenny snapped right in front of his face. 

“Do you want to hear about the juicy Style or not?” 

“Yes, yes!!” Clyde clung to Kenny’s arm, grinning up at him. “What did they say to you??” 

Kenny hummed as he thought about how to start this. He didn’t want to completely sell-out his friends, but they were being so annoying with their obvious feelings for each other. Kenny had been trying to get them both to a point where they’d feel comfortable talking with the other, but after tonight he wondered if he should just dare them to kiss or something. “Basically they’ve both admitted to me that they have a crush on their “super best friend” and don’t want things to get weird between them. With a heavy dose of denial on Stan’s part.” 

“This is everything I’ve wanted and more,” Clyde whispers, hugging Kenny’s arm even tighter. “I need to see them confess to each other.” 

“Not a bad idea.” Kenny tapped at his chin, a plan forming. “Clyde, I know you have this plan to embarrass Craig, but what if you help me get some sparks flying between my two buddies?” 

“Yes!” Clyde didn’t need another second to think about it, squeezing Kenny’s arm even tighter in his excited grasp. “A million times yes!” 

“Does this mean you’re not going to try and embarrass me anymore?” Craig had to ask. 

“Oh, I’ll go back to that after I see Stan and Kyle kiss!” 

“I thought you wanted them to conf-fess?” Jimmy pointed out. 

“Kiss, confess - whatever! I want romance!!” 

Kenny snorted with laughter and clutched at his stomach. “That’s the spirit!!” He took a deep breath, calming down before wrapping an arm around Clyde’s shoulders, whispering his plan into those eager ears. Basically, Kenny was instructing Clyde to always pick him for Truth or Dare when it was his turn, so he could get either Stan and Kyle to open up in the next turn. 

He finished explaining just as they arrived at the kitchen. Token, Tweek, Butters, and Timmy were all sitting at the kitchen table, with the two blondes mixing different bowls of dyed frosting. 

“Craig!” Tweek perked up, beaming at him as he mixed his bowl of red frosting. “We have a cake baking. Wanna help frost?” 

“Absolutely.” Craig bounded over, standing behind Tweek and resting his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders, kissing the top of his head. 

“Had enough eavesdropping?” Butters asked, pouting as he stared intently at his bowl of green frosting. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Butter Ball,” Kenny sighed, coming over to ruffle Butters’ hair. “I didn’t hear anything I didn’t already know.” 

“What did you hear, then?” Token had to ask. 

“If you wanted to know, you should have come with~” Clyde taunted, sticking his tongue out playfully. 

“Stan and Kyle are so t-totally gay for each other,” Jimmy revealed to no one’s surprise. 

“Jimmy!!” Clyde felt betrayed anyway. “They were supposed to sit in agony of not knowing!!” 

“Oh please, they’d f-find out tonight with your and Kenny’s pl, plan!” 

“Timmy!” he exclaimed before looking at his communication screen for a more clear sentence. “Did they tell each other their feelings?” 

Kenny snorted, rolling his eyes. “I wish. Nah, they’re being dicks about it. That’s why Clyde and I are gonna push them a little bit.” 

“Push them until they kiss!!” 

“Confess, Clyde. Geez, and they call me a horndog.” 

“Um, I’m a fanboy - there’s a huge difference.” 

“Ah, so this is where you guys ran off to.” Everyone turned to look at Kyle, who was staring at them all with crossed arms and a suspicious look. “What are you talking about?” 

“Cake!” Tweek squeaked nervously. He swallowed and held out his bowl of frosting. “We’re going to d-decorate a cake!” 

“Sweet!” Stan walked in past Kyle, a small smile on his face. “How are we decorating it?” 

“Well, Butters suggested red and green plaid -” 

“Aw, that’s cute, Butterfly,” Kenny cooed. 

“And complicated,” Token added. 

“Timmy,” he nodded in agreement. 

“Why not just slather a mound of frosting on it and call it a day?” Clyde argued, his mouth already watering from the delicious smell of a baking cake. 

“Because that’s how you end up like Cartman,” Craig poked Clyde’s cheek, causing his friend to whine and swat at him. 

The boys continued to talk about what to do with the cake when it came out of the oven, but Kyle just narrowed his eyes. He swore they’d been talking about him and Stan before they showed up, but like anyone would admit to that. He’d just have to be careful the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

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[alienwerewolff]

Second Generation

A Supernatural Fan Fiction (Sam Winchester x OC)

Rated M: Mature adult content, smut, violence, alcohol, drugs, ect.

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Full Summery: Elliott and her brother Max are have been hunting all their lives, but shortly after Elliott's twenty second birthday they discover that she has a freaky ability. Max scared for his only family seeks help, finding it in the Winchesters. Unfortunately, her ability has some very similar traits to the demon Azazel's 'special children', but that can't be right. Azazel is dead. Dean killed the yellow eyed bastard himself, right? 

*New Chapter Summery* Chapter 13: Witches Be Bitches Elliott is still grieving so Sam and Dean find the perfect distraction a hunt. Exactly what she needs, but this hunt is much bigger than any she's been on before. When an actual angel shows up Elliott isn't sure how to react. Castiel an angel of the Lord shows up with a warning for the hunters. Let's just say he is not at all what Elliott or Sam had expected angels to be like.

~Links~

Ao3 

Wattpad

FF.Net

Chapter 13: Witches Be Bitches

By the time the Impala pulled up to the small town, another strange death had accrued. A high school student drowned in a boiling water while bobbing for apples. Deciding to split up Elliott and Sam went to interrogate the wife of the man that downed the razor blades while Dean went to investigate the high school kid's death.

Elliott was full of sympathy for the poor widow. Losing family and loved ones was very hard. Max's death was still fresh and although Bobby, Sam, and Dean told her that she was doing so much better she still didn't feel any better. Putting on a brave face and diving into the distraction Elliott did her job searching the grieving widow's kitchen while Sam continued to question the woman.

His voice was so calming and soft. Elliott was always in awe of how well he could empathize with people. Even if they didn't reciprocate.

"The candy was never in the oven." The widow's harsh tone snapped Elliott out of her thoughts in her search through the oven."

Elliott gave her a sheepish smile and closed the oven door. "Just being thorough." Sam distracted her again with another question giving Elliott time to continue her search. Almost instantly Elliott found something, and it wasn't good.

Holding up the little brown pouch she found under the refrigerator she gave Sam a nod before tucking the hex bag into her skirt pocket. They left after Sam had actually asked the grieving widow if her late husband could have been having an affair.

"Very subtle Sam." Elliott snorted as they waited for Dean to pick them up in the Impala. Taking a swig of her diet coke standing at a convince store a couple blocks away from the widow's house.

"What? Like you weren't thinking it?" Sam defended himself.

"Of course, I was. But you just don't out right ask a grieving widow if she was being cheated on." Elliott laughed shaking her head at the giant. Sam smile brightened he hadn't seen her laugh since before Max. It was so good to see her smile again. The rumble of the Impala stopped their banter, and Dean pulled up.

"Freaking hate witches, man." Dean complained stepping out of the Impala holding up a hex bag identical to the one they had found at the widow's house.

Sam huffed as Elliott showed Dean the hex bag they found as well. Dean told the couple he needed to grab supplies and ducked into the convenience store. Sam knowing his brother all too well shook his head and Elliott mimicked him when Dean came back out with a shit eating grin and a giant bag of candy. "Don't look at me like that. It's Halloween." Dean defended tossing a wrapper in the plastic bag.

"This ain't an ordinary witch we're dealing with." Sam explained to them as he looked through the hex bag back in the motel room. "-six hundred year old coin, two hundred years extinct herb and charred baby bones." Sam smirked at Dean and Elliott's shivers of disgust. His smirk faltered some realizing how similar his girlfriend and his brother were, causing him to shiver himself. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the thought.

After a little sitting around and research time Sam of course was the one to put it all together. He discovered that this was no ordinary witch. The stupid witch was trying to raise the Samhain a very big and nasty demon. This was way bigger than anything Elliott had ever been a part of.

Both Winchesters were hesitant to continue with the case. Neither of them comfortable with Elliott being around demons, not with Azazel still looking for her. After the boys made a few calls with no other hunters close enough to take on the case the hardly had a choice but to continue with her.

"Why don't you two keep up the nerd session? I'm gonna stake out the widower's house." Dean stood after twenty minutes of research.

"Dean," Sam started but was cut off.

"I got this Sammy. Take care of your girl. Dean patted Sam on the back and gave him a wink. Then snatched his keys making his way to the door. "Oh, and if I find out you two fucked on my bed, you're both dead."

Both Elliott and Sam's went beat red. Not having gotten a chance to be with each other in months. There was always too much going on, and with Elliott just losing her brother Sam didn't feel like there was a right time. As much as Sam was wanted to take the opportunity with his brother being gone, he thought it would be too weird. Like Dean had given him permission to bang his girl, he shivered internally.

So, the couple ignored the older Winchester's words and got back to their task, research. They needed to find out who this crazy witch was and how to stop her before she raises the super powerful demon. To be fair they really did start by researching but by the time Dean called they were half naked and sexually frustrated.

As they worked Sam was at the small table with his laptop, Elliott on the bed legs crossed and elbows propped on her knees with a book on Samhain in her lap. One minute Sam was admiring how cute she was studying with her brows knit in concentration and the next he was standing at the end of the bed.

"Sam?" Elliott looked up from her book at Sam's crooked smile and slide the book to the side.

"We haven't had a moment alone for a while now." Sam leaned down pushing her gently onto her back. She let him nibbling at her lower lip and staring up into hazel lust filled eyes.

"Then we better use out time wisely Jolly Green."

She closed the space between them planting her lips on his. He was practically on top of her but supporting his weight on his elbows. The kiss grew more intense. Running her fingertips through his shaggy locks to the nape of his neck she let out a soft moan, that Sam swallowed down at her lips. Leaning his weight onto one forearm his large hand traced her hip bone with feather light touches to her bare skin where her shirt was riding up. The same hand slid up under the tee and glided across her ribs, moving to take the tee shirt off completely. His sloppy kisses returned after throwing the shirt across the room. Lips moving down her jaw to the hallow of her throat.

As if it were clockwork the second Elliott's fingers started to fumble with the button on his jeans his phone went off. Groaning in frustration, Sam hung his head listening to the ringtone.

"Just get it, Sam. We're on a case you can't really just ignore him." She panted. They waited a moment as the ringing continued. He groaned again letting his head fall to rest on her bra covered chest. When the ringing ended, he nuzzled his head further between her breast playfully pulling her bra down with his teeth. He licked and nipped at her exposed breasts causing her to let out a soft mew.

The phone started ringing again, this time Sam growled before finally picking it up, not bothering to move away from her chest. "What?!" Sam snapped at his brother on the phone.

"Dude, answer your damn phone. I found the connection." Elliott overheard the older Winchester on the other side of the call. "The teen at the boiling apple bobbers death is the razor blade dude's babysitter."

"Great. We have a connection. I'll do more investigating." He sighed, then looked down to Elliott. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean's voice echoed out of the phone.

"Don't hurry back." Sam growled hanging up before getting an answer and attacking Elliott again.

Elliott felt so relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Sure, she still had demon blood in her, a yellow eyed demon was after her, and she still missed her brother, but Sam sure knew how to make a girl forget her worries. She was spacing out as they entered the high school art room to talk with the girl's teacher that connected the two victims.

"Bring back memories?" Sam huffed to Dean and Elliott looking at the creepy paper-mâché masks.

Dean blinked a few times before answering. "What do you mean?"

"Being a teenager all that angst." Sam scoffed, but Elliott could see Dean's hesitation and jumped in to save him.

"I don't know if I'd call that angst. More like stoned." She chuckled and gestured at the kid trying to fit a giant bong in the kiln. Sam again found himself smiling at her, amusement. "He's doing that all wrong..."

Dean grinned wickedly, at her wording, and was thankful for the change of subject. "Is that right? And how would you know the right way?"

"Well most teachers would smash such obvious paraphernalia. So, you gotta be smart about it. Disguise it as a vase at least." Elliott explained with a shrug. "But pipes are way easier because they're so small."

Sam's eyes went wide at her in shock, brows just about touching his hairline unable to speak.

"Elliott Anders, were you the stoner kid in school?" Dean teased his smirk growing wild.

"I made a turtle shaped pipe for Max's birthday one year..." Elliott sighed a mixture of sad and happy at the fond memories.

"And here I thought you were a geek like Sammy in school." Dean chuckled looking impressed.

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother.

"Oh no, I was a major geek!" Elliott grinned at Sam and gave him a nod in solidarity. She was proud of her geekiness. "Dungeons and Dragons, Lord of The Rings, Doctor Who, Marvel comics, you name it! Just smoking before playing a campaign, watching a scifi flick or reading can be super trippy..." Elliott trailed off going bright red as the art teacher smiled at them from the doorway.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that." The art teacher huffed extremely amused by Elliott's red face, obviously overhearing their conversation.

The teacher Don, (just Don) thankfully said nothing else about their conversation. He actually was able to give them the name of the apartment complex the teen that connected the two victims lived alone in. Which was great considering he thought she was a stoner FBI agent. She didn't think he would believe their cover due to her little slip up. Unfortunately, the teen's apartment was a bust. When they came up with nothing at the apartment complex, they headed back to their cheap motel for the time being to regroup.

"She can't have gotten far. Witch bitch still needs to make the third sacrifice." Elliott summarized getting out of Baby.

"She's not at her apartment not at the school, none of her friends know where she is," Sam listed brainstorming and walking up to the motel.

"Like the witch has hopped the broom." Dean mumbled.

Elliott opened the door to their sleazy motel room. Then acting on hunter instincts her hand flew to her glock at her waist and took aim at the two strange men in their room. After being taken by demons Elliott had been hyper aware of her surroundings and she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus." She started shouting the exorcism as Sam came in next to her gun out and aimed as well.

"Who are you!" Sam demanded taking aim and stepping forward to block Elliott from their view.

Elliott stopped hesitantly when she saw the men weren't reacting to Sam let alone her exorcism. Dean bringing up the rear now barreled through the door ordering Sam and Elliott to stop.

"Sam! Ellie! Wait!" Dean shouted and stepped up between the guns and the strangers, forcing them to lower their weapons. "That's Castiel. The angel."

Elliott vaguely remembered the name of the angel. What she did remember clearly was that Dean had told her and Max this angel had pulled him out of Hell. Both Sam and Elliott did a double take eyes wide and jaw slack with awe.

"Him, I don't know." Dean gestured to the other figure. The angels were tall, though shorter than the Winchesters skyscraper heights. The one named Castiel had messy black hair a stern face and was wearing a trench coat. Castiel tilted his head to the side as his intense ice blue eyes focused on Sam and Elliott.

"Sam Winchester and Elliott Anders." Castiel greeted with a deep monotoned voice. Elliott instantly felt uneasy and swallowed hard. The young Winchester was nervous as well, but it seemed like he was more excited than wary.

"Oh, my God. -Er -uh -I didn't mean to uh- It's an honor." Sam stuttered nervously and held his hand out for the trenchcoated angel to shake. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah when Dean first mentioned angels-" Elliott was cut off by Castiel's deep monotoned voice.

"And I you. Then humans with the demon blood. Glad to see you have both ceased your extracurricular activities."

Castiel's ice blues drilled into each of them. Sam blinked back the hurt and shock, tensing protectively as Elliott flinched at the angel's words. She bit her lip looking away hating that title, but she was quick to mask how it affected her.

"Have you found the witch? Is she dead?" Castiel turned to question Dean.

"No, but we know who she is." Elliott rushed out not wanting to be cut off again. The trenchcoated angel fixed her with a pointed stare.

Castiel pulled out a hex bag and handed it to Dean. "Apparently the witch knows who you are as well. Do you know where the witch is now?"

"You're an angel why do you even care about a witch?" Dean defended.

"The rising of Samhain is one of the sixty six seals. Lucifer can not rise the breaking of the sixty six seals must be prevented at all costs."

Elliott's eyes widened. Sam and Dean had told her about the sixty six seals but only in passing like it wasn't a real worry. She was embarrassed to admit that through her grieving and the drama of being wanted by the yellow eyed demon she had forgotten about it almost completely.

"Enough of this." The other angel commanded finally speaking. Elliott jumped slightly forgetting he was even there. He was stocky with dark skin, and a harsh glare.

"Who are you and why should I care?" Dean sassed causing the angel to turn from the window. Elliott tugged on the sleeve of Dean's jacket. Something scared her about the two angels, and she didn't think it wise to taunt them.

"This is Uriel, he's what you might call a specialist." Castiel introduced.

Elliott dared to speak up again, quietly questioning his words. "Specialist? What are you going to do?"

"You need to leave this place." Castiel gazed at Dean ignoring her.

"Why?" Sam breathed.

"Because we are about to destroy it."

She thought angels were supposed to be the good guys. They didn't just kill innocents, right? Dean's voice broke through her thoughts threatening the angels. Refusing to leave the town, claiming that they would go down fighting.

All three hunters piled into Baby. Dean seething mad while both Elliott and Sam sulked. That seemed to make Dean even more annoyed.

"What?" Dean snapped at them glancing between the two. The couple glanced at each other before shrugging. Elliott leaned over the front bench seat from the back and took the hex bag form Sam. "You going to help us out Princess or you gonna keep fingering your bone?" Dean couldn't help himself still smiling when Sam gave him a strong bitch face. Elliott chuckled lightly coughing to clearing her throat.

"I know where we need to go."

Realizing the hex bag showed up after they talked to Don the hippie art teacher they broke into the school. When they found more charred baby bones and other ingredients in the hippie teachers desk Elliott was rewarded with an intense kiss from Sam and an 'atta girl' from Dean.

Rushing to the teachers house they made it just in time. The teen Tracy was tied up and Don the art teacher was at her throat with a knife. Sam stepped into the basement first firing a couple shots killing Don instantly. The Winchesters hurried to free the girl as Elliott checked Don's pulse confirming he was dead.

"Ugh-thank you! That sick son of a bitch was going to kill me!" Elliott heard the girl go off. "Did you hear him? How sloppy his incantation was?"

Elliott's breath hitched all three of the hunters drew their guns too late. The teen spewed Latin throwing them back with an invisible force. Elliott yelped insides twisting and grinding in pain. Hunching over and curling in on herself she whimpered on the floor. The witch kept talking but the pain was all Elliott could focus on as she writhed. Sam and Dean's groans met her ears and she lifted her head to see them struggling against the witch's invisible torture as well.

Although she couldn't fully make out what the witch was saying across the room, Elliott was able to tell that she was now chanting in Latin. A whimper escaped her throat as Elliott twisted to look up at Sam as their time was running out. Sam grunted and held a finger to his lips telling her to keep quiet before she felt his large hand swipe something warm and wet along her face. When her eyes flicked to him and Dean, with red splotched on their face she realized what Sam had smeared on her. Blood, the dead teacher's blood. An image of blood flowing freely from Max's chest reared its way into her mind at the sight. She closed her eyes against the awful memory but the visual became more intense and detailed behind her closed eyelids.

Sam's blood coated hand was on her wrist snapping her out of it. His concerned eyes were wide and flicking from the witch finishing her Latin to Elliott, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze and whispering to her.

"Don't move."

The pain finally subsided when the witch finished her incantation, and the ground began to shake. A dark smoke filled the air before B-lining it to the teacher's corpse. Elliott did her best trying not to even breathe as the body that used to belong to the teacher stood up and walked around to the teen witch before snapping her neck. Elliott held completely still as she felt the demon's eyes linger on her before it kept walking past them and out of the house.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean hissed getting up off the floor.

"Halloween lore." Elliott breathed back, putting it together quickly, and receiving a proud smile from the younger Winchester.

"People use to wear masks to hide from him. So, I gave it a shot." Sam shrugged.

"You gave it a shot?!" Dean hissed outraged.

"You alright Ellie?" Sam questioned ignoring his brother. She refused to look him or Sam in the eye not wanting the images of Max to flash behind her eyelids again but responded quickly.

"Yea, let's get out of here." Sam hesitated, able to see she was dealing with something, but it was obvious that she didn't want to explain and they had a demon to go after. He led the way out of the basement. Elliott brought up the rear wiping her face of the blood as she did.

"Dean," Sam mumbled quietly trying to get only his attention. Failing completely because Elliott was looking at him as well. He was glad that once they had wiped up all the blood on their faces Elliott was looking at him again, but right now he didn't want her to hear this.

"Sam?" Dean raised a brow at his brother's quiet tone, not bothering to look away from the road as he drove.

"This demon is too powerful. It might take more than the usual weapons to take him down." Sam spoke slowly. Both men sent cautious glances to the hunter in the backseat then back to each other.

"No. Sam, Ruby's knife is enough." Dean stated coldly.

"Dean,"

"I said no Sam. The damn angels told you not to."

"Is someone going to fill me in here?" Elliott spoke over the bickering brothers.

"You wanna tell your girl Sammy?" Dean raised a brow threateningly and offering Sam their demon killing knife as an alternative. Sam gave a defeated sigh and took it from Dean.

"I'll explain later Ellie. Let's just save the town first?" The young Winchester offered with an apologetic look. Elliott sighed and gave in the moment he displayed his sad puppy eyes.

Elliott could hear the screaming as they pulled up to the cemetery. In a rush all three hunters were out of the Impala duffels and weapons packed and drawn. They ran down the stairs of the mausoleum to come up to an iron gate full of costumed screaming teens.

"Help them." Sam commanded.

"Dude, you're not going off alone!" Dean argued.

"Dean, go! I got this. You boys go!" Elliott shouted and turned back to the screaming teenagers. That made Sam hesitate obviously not liking the idea of leaving Elliott alone right now. "I said go!" she ordered making the Winchesters scurry off.

The brothers had disappeared around the corner when she shot open the gate, releasing the slutty costumed teens. She waved them out yelling at them to speed them along. When the first animated corpse fell out of the wall, she steeled herself ready for a fight. She spun and stabbed him with the silver stake before ducking from a second one. Quickly grabbing another silver stake from her duffel on the ground she impaled the second one.

"Ellie!"

"Dean?" She panted taking a third one out. "What the Hell are you doing? Why aren't you with Sam?"

"He sent me back. Didn't want you fighting these fuckers alone with a bum arm." Dean gestured his head to her left arm still entrapped in thick white plaster. The flower doodles still bright on the pale cast. Elliott threw him a silver stake. He caught it just in time to twist around and get one that had been coming up behind him.

"And you listened to him?? Dean! That is Samhain he is after! I can take out a few stupid zombi-" Elliott was cut off mid sentence and flung across the room into the granite wall. She let out a surprised yelp and groaned at the pain in her shoulder.

"Ellie!" Dean's called out. A ghost flickered holding her in place a foot off the ground. Dean growled before shooting a blast of rock salt at it. Landing on her ass Elliott winced panting she let her head fall back against the wall with a sigh.

"That's it, I'm torching everybody." Dean grumbled helping her to her feet.

She quickly followed Deans orders and soon they had a nice fire going. They hurried down the hallways to find Sam before they could get trapped by the fire. Dean saw his brother first. Breath hitching and feet halted in his tracks. When Elliott got a good look at her giant her hazel green eyes went wide, although it took her a moment to understand what she was seeing.

Sam stood with an outstretched hand the demon Samhain was up against the wall struggling with an invisible force. Her giant's grunts could be heard as he used an unknown power to take on the demon. Sam's hazel eyes flicked up to see his two hunting Dean and Elliott standing in the archway staring at him. When his gaze landed on their wide eyes he winced, pained by their shock. Elliott just watched frozen to the spot as black smoke began to spew from the demon's mouth and eyes. She was unaware of how her jaw hung slightly at the sight of her giant exorcising a demon with his mind.

The demon let out an aggravated howl as Sam continued ignoring his audience. Pain scrunched Sam's features together and he grabbed his forehead without stopping his mind exorcism. Elliott's jaw shut, brows shot up and she took a step forward to go to Sam, but Dean's hand wrapped around her upper arm stopping her.

"Sam?" Elliott breathed not even looking at Dean holding her back. Worry increased tenfold when she spotted the blood dripping from his nose. Dean's grip on her arm was too strong and she couldn't get any closer. Sam's painful grunting got louder, as the demon struggled and spewed even more black smoke. Then with the last of the smoke appearing to sink into the earth, the body fell with a thunk.

Sam was panting heavily blood dribbled down from his nose over his lip and past his chin. Hesitantly he brought his gaze to meet Elliott's looking like a disobedient child. He chanced a look to his big brother's disapproving green eyes before going back to his girls.

"Ellie," Sam swallowed hard unable to read her reaction. Dean interrupted the moment unhappily barking at them. Something about the place being on fire and needing to scram before the cops showed up, promising that they would talk later.

After a silent and extremely awkward car ride they made it back to the motel. Dean was too upset to stay or even talk. The moment he pulled up the cheap motel he mumbled something about needing a drink, extending an invitation to Elliott. Sam was surprised when she declined, but wouldn't look up from his shoes when he felt Dean's worried gaze. It was obvious to the young Winchester that his brother was uncomfortable leaving Elliott alone with him, but he left anyway. Tires squealing as he pulled out of the lot.

Inside the motel Sam sat on the edge of their bed avoiding eye contact letting his knee bouncing anxiously. He was almost certain he scared the crap out of Elliott back there. He had hoped to explain it to her before she'd see him use his mind exorcism thing. Really, he didn't ever want her to see it. Of course, he was aware his big brother was mad and disappointed in him for using his mind exorcism thing. As much as it hurt him to know what his brother thought of him, he was utterly terrified of how Elliott was about to react. Terrified she'd be disgusted by him or worse so horrified she might leave him. The thought made his heart speed up with panic. He couldn't handle her leaving. She had been his best source of happiness since Jess he didn't want to lose that. Sam even thought she had been the cause of Dean's happiness lately as well. When Dean first came back from Hell, he wasn't the same man, though he tried to hide it Sam could see he was struggling. Dean's smiles had rarely met his eyes, his laughs had been hallow. Then after just a night of drinking with Elliott and Max, Sam could see a real smile on his brothers face again. Things were finally getting back to almost normal. Elliott Anders had somehow become a fixed point of happiness for both of the Winchesters, Sam couldn't lose her.

"Sam?" Elliott's soft voice broke through his thoughts bringing him back to reality. She placed her uncasted hand on his leg to stop its insecure bouncing. "Relax a bit Jolly Green? Starting to make me anxious." She chuckled humorlessly. He instantly stilled his nervous tick. His instinctual apologetic puppy eyes looked up to meet her hazel green ones.

"I'm really sorry Elliott." Sam sighed his large hand moved slowly to cover hers on his knee. He looked down surprised by how small and dainty her hand was in his, as his hand almost dwarfed hers. "I should have told you, I know. I just- I was terrified how you would-will- might react."

"That's it?"

Sam looked back to her brows knit together in confusion. "That's it, what? What do you mean that's it? You just saw me exorcise a demon with my mind. I'm a freak."

"Well, so am I." Elliott shrugged, not breaking eye contact.

"No-" Sam immediately began to deny, almost angry that she'd even consider herself a freak. He stopped his protests when she held her hand out for him to stop.

"Sam. I can heal- transfer injuries- uh, whatever you wanna call it. I have a weird freaky ability. So if you are a freak? Then so am I. We can be freaks together, Giant." She chuckled before sighing to give him a stern look. "That's not why I am upset."

It hurt Sam that she would ever think of herself that way. She was anything but a freak in his eyes. He wanted to continue to arguing with her about it but was distracted by the fact that she said that she wasn't scared of him. The burst of hope was crushed by confusion.

"Hhn? Then what are you upset about?"

"How can you tell me not to use my power and turn around and use your own?" She breathed.

Sam had to take a moment before answering, not expecting that. Straightening his posture, and tilting his head as he tried to respond mouth opening and closing a couple times before he was able to speak. "That's different, Ellie."

"How? The angels didn't seem to think so. They don't want either of us using are abilities. Remember? How is it okay for you and not for-"

"Because I'm not hurting myself, Elliott." Sam retorted quickly as if it were obvious.

"Really?" She asked quietly. "Don't you dare say it's not the same Winchester. I saw the pain on your face when you exorcised that demon."

Elliott huffed shaking her head before he had a chance to deny her again, she quickly reached out to his face. Instinctively he flinched back and grabbed her wrist, but let go almost as quickly. Moving slower she reached out touching his face with a feather light touch. Her eyes tightening narrowing in on his like she was focusing on something. Sam jumped away from her as if he had been electrocuted when he saw blood dribble down from her nose.

"Dammit Ellie, I said stop doing that!" Sam nearly shouted, shocked that he had once again let her take his own injury.

"That's not the point." Elliott rolled her eyes then swiped her fingers gently over the skin above her upper lip. Then held her fingers out for him to see the little smear of red. "We both get hurt Sam."

He sighed running a hand through his hair and shaking it out at the ends. Another drop of blood dripped down from her nose this time it fell over her lips almost to her chin. Grinding his teeth, Sam went back to her immediately forcing her to sit on the bed then reached for an unused fast food napkin from last night's diner and wiped up the blood.

"Alright. Alright. How about a compromise?" Sam offered while holding the napkin to her nose and tilting her head back to trying to stop the bleeding.

"I'm listening." Elliott responded with a stuffed nose.

"It's obvious that the angels don't want either of us to use our abilities, and that we don't want each other to, right?" Sam continued after she gave him a small nod. "We don't use our powers. Either of us. If giving up exorcising demons like this keeps you from getting hurt, -I can stop."

"Really?" She scrunched her brows. "You'd do that for me?"

Sam tilted her head back to normal removing the bloody napkin to give her a gentle kiss. "Of course." He pulled away and dabbed up the last of her bloody nose.

"Deal." She whispered, going in to meet his lips again.

They waited till the next morning when Dean was up and about to leave to get breakfast to tell him about their deal. Dean seemed much more at easy after they explained that neither one of them were going to use their powers now. That as long as one didn't use theirs the other wouldn't.

Elliott jumped into the shower when Dean went to snag breakfast, leaving Sam to pack up. When the angel Uriel appeared on the couch behind him Sam he sighed.

"What are you doing here?" Sam growled, now that he knew angels weren't as great as he once thought.

"Tomorrow's November second. The day Azazel killed your mother and twenty two years later Jessica More." Uriel stated. "I'm curious, are you worried about your new whore?"

Sam tensed up anger boiling under his skin. "Is that a threat?"

"No, not yet. I'm merely disappointed you blatantly use the power Azazel has given you when he has caused so much death around you."

"I did what I had to do. If Samhain had gotten loose on this town-"

"You have been warned twice now. You and your little whore."

"Don't call her that!" Sam barked now furious. The angel only chuckled with an all knowing smirk on his face. "You know, my brother was right. Angels are dicks."

Suddenly Uriel was standing in front of the hunter. "The only reason that bitch in there," Uriel gestured toward the bathroom where they could still hear the shower going. "is still alive Sam Winchester, is because you have been useful. The moment that ceases to be true, I will turn you both to dust."

Sam released a shaky breath, his jaw clenching at the threat.

"Or in her case I could be poetic and burn her to ash." Sam's couldn't hide his reaction from the angel. Hazel eyes widened breath audibly hitched at the threat. "As for your brother? Ask Dean what he remembers from Hell." With that Uriel smiled smugly at the hunter's petrified face before disappearing from the motel room.

Sam blinked a few times before looking at the bathroom door worried. Then booked it. "Ellie!" He shouted scared Uriel would follow through with his threats, that something could happen to her any moment. He burst open the door in a panic not even embarrassed when he saw her naked form stepping out of the shower.

Elliott squeaked at the bumbarsion jumping a foot and clutched the towel to her chest. She was just about to tell the giant off for bursting in and scaring her like that but stopped seeing his panic.

"Sam? Are you okay?" He didn't reply just took to large steps to embrace her in a bone crushing hug. "Sam? Sam stop you're getting your clothes all wet. Sam?"

"I don't care." He breathed shutting his eyes tight and kissing the top of her head. "I don't care."

No matter how much Elliott pestered him Sam never explained what caused him to react the way he did. His strange behavior proceeded to get even weirder for a few days. Sam had always been protective but never like this. November second the day after the bathroom incident had been severely worse. She had woken to him clinging to her much like he had in the bathroom. The young Winchester had followed Elliott around like a baby duck all day.

Even Dean noticed his brother's strange behavior. Teasing Sam when he insisted Elliott keep the bathroom door cracked while she got ready. That is until Sam mumbled the date to him. Dean had gone pale and stoic when he heard the date, asking Elliott to just hummer him. After that Dean wouldn't say a word about his little brother's clingy behavior. Suggesting that they just drive until they found a new case. They drove through the night making only two stops. One for gas and the other when Elliott couldn't hold her bladder any longer. Even then Sam stood outside the women's restroom at the gas station until Elliot was finished. Taking her by the hand to go straight back to the Impala.

The next few days were much better but she could still feel Sam's puppy eyes on her when she wasn't looking. If it weren't for how scared Sam looked Elliott would be far past annoyed. It had her worried, especially because no one would tell her what was happening. As the giant began to ease off so did her worry. Somethings she didn't have to know. Sam had his own past, and as long as things continued to get better, she could let the strange behavior go.

[marvelsdarling]

Heal Him- Chapter 1

Chapter 1/?

Pairing: Loki x (female) reader

Summary: Both you and Jane work together to heal Thor and Loki’s numerous wounds

Warnings: mentions of blood

Word count: 2k

-

The wheels of your car swerved down the empty sea-side roads of Hawaii as the black jeep that Jane was driving followed closely in your tracks. The sun was now part-way in the sky and even your sunglasses didn’t help shade your eyes from the now sharp golden rays. By the time you turned onto your road on the North side of the island, Jane was tailgating you and by then you were already pushing the speed limit by quite a bit.

You pulled into your driveway and stopped your car haphazardly somewhere in the middle of your empty garage.  You could hear Jane screech to a stop before you even exited your vehicle, and she practically opened the door for you.

“He’s bleeding a lot y/n..I...I don’t know what to do.” She looked like she was going to cry, or had been crying on the way. You were still hesitant about helping her with this. You typically tried to stay away from her antics because it usually gets her into trouble with the government or some random alien race; you weren’t too interested in getting in trouble with either of those.

The two of you opened the back door to get a closer look at both the brothers. Thor was still awake but the bleeding had increased slightly. His face looked pale and his hands were shaky. Loki looked identical to how he was at the beach, which wasn’t good because you could see open gashes and a small knife in his side.

“Can you stand?” You asked the older one of the two brothers.

“Most likely,” he replied. He looked weak but stable enough to at least walk and with Jane’s help, she took him out of the car and walked him into your house.

You watched Thor walk into your house before turning back to Loki. Although you despised him, he needed medical attention more than Thor at the moment. You pulled Loki’s limp body out of the car carefully and lay him down onto the cool morning pavement. Your fingers pressed into the side of his neck. His pulse was weak but it was consistent at roughly 60 bpm which was healthy, but with gods, you couldn’t tell what was healthy. You cautiously checked his airway and respiratory rate and determined that he was simply unconscious due to blunt force, which could mean a nasty concussion; you would have the privilege of treating for the next few weeks.

You managed to pick him up awkwardly bridal style and drop him onto a couch in your living room next to Thor and Jane.

“Thor’s bleeding a lot, what should I-”

“Pressure on the cuts with the towels that are under the sink - the black ones - get him to drink water and sleep so his body can create new blood cells. He should be fine it was only a couple gashes,” you replied quickly, trying to figure out the extent of Loki’s injuries.

He was much worse. His torso was completely covered in slashes and cuts. The biggest problem was definitely a knife lodged just above his hip bone.

You could hear Jane rummaging around your kitchen, and you hoped that she found everything she needed quickly so you could deal with the two gods and get them out of your living room.

Loki looked pale and tired even in his unconsciousness, and by the time you had figured out how to unbuckle and cut apart Loki’s armour with a swiss army knife, Jane had returned with an armful of towels and a water bottle.

You helped her wet a couple towels and taught her how to disinfect any cuts that were on Thor’s body before turning back to the couch that Loki was laying on. You leaned over his limp body and noticed the numerous bruises that were appearing all over his torso and lower back, that would probably be painful in the morning.

You poked tentatively at Loki’s skin with a wet towel to clean up any blood that dried on his skin. You couldn’t deny that he had a toned body - not that you would ever say anything like that out loud. The gashes that had cut through his leather armour weren’t deep but they were numerous and the knife that was in his side wasn’t in too deep but certainly was there.

“Thank you, lady y/n,” you turned to Thor who was also shirtless and not bleeding profusely, but still wincing every time Jane cleaned a cut. You could see what Jane was talking about when she said he was made of muscle.

“It’s no problem,” you replied. Jane scoffed at that.

“You are helping me heal two gods in your house, the last time you helped me with something like this-”

“As long as no aliens attack me, it’s fine,” you cut her off. It was true, as long as nothing more happens everything will be fine.

“Aliens?” You looked back at the blonde and shook your head.

“Like you.” You replied

Promptly you stood up and walked over to the kitchen, somewhere in there you had a first aid kit. You dug through the pantry, the cabinet with the blender, food processor and finally the cabinet with the cutting boards, which actually did, in fact, have a first aid kit. You poured yourself a glass of water and walked out to the balcony for a moment. The hot air felt thick and heavy, which usually meant rain was coming. Your eyes scanned the property and looked out onto the ocean, having a beachfront property was rare here, but your parents were wealthy enough before their death that they built this as their dream home. All white and modern house, pool, beach front, 3-bedroom, it was nice. You never thought that it would be used to house gods but hey, at least it’s being used for something other than your late night solo concerts in front of the tv.

You finished your water and walked back to the living room, Jane had finished cleaning up Thor's gashes and had started to disinfect the knife in Loki’s side. You crouched by his side and pulled out some gauze from the first aid kit.

“You can take some butterfly stitches from the kit and put them on Thor then take him to the bedroom on the right side of the entrance to let him rest,” you told her. She nodded and did what you said, walking Thor out of the living room and down the hallway to the entrance.

Kneeling next to Loki you grabbed hold of the handle and swiftly pulled the knife out of his side, quickly applying pressure to the wound. His skin felt cold, but his breath was steady and he stopped bleeding quickly. You put a butterfly stitch and gauze over the wound and looked around to find something to cover his torso with, which conveniently at the moment was nothing. You used another wet towel and washed a few splotches of dried blood off his face, brushing the stray strands of hair away from his eyes. Subconsciously, you realized that when Loki wasn’t trying to take over your planet, he looked pretty calm and not so much like a psychopath.  

“Ahem?”

You turned around to see Jane standing in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting something?” she smirked at you as she leaned against the frame. You rolled your eyes and stood up from your crouched position.

“No,” you paused for a minute. “What are you doing on Maui anyway?”

She let out a small chuckle. “We were on some planet but I asked Heimdall to bring us here to heal them, I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You asked who?”

“Don’t worry.”

You stayed quiet for a moment before Jane spoke up again.

“We don’t have any clothes here.” Her joking tone made you smile, knowing she would borrow some of your clothes within the hour, and that you would both go shopping sometime tomorrow. She hadn’t changed much, she was still sarcastic and firey -which got her into just as much trouble like the last time you saw her. You used to be close friends, and it was comforting you could joke around as if you still were, even if much had changed since then.

“I know. You have to help me get the greasy one to the other bedroom.”

You both awkwardly carried Loki to only other bedroom that was available. It was identical to the one Thor was in; big enough, large window and a king size bed. The walls were grey and decorated with pictures of the beach, and sunlight poured into the room from the French style windows you had begged your parents to put it because they’re gorgeous.  You dropped his body onto the bed, pulling the blankets over his chest and checking to make sure that he was still breathing before going to get him water and an ice pack.

You could see in the distance a few dark rain clouds. They blanketed the horizon and covered what would have been the sunset in a few hours. You guessed that you lost track of time while trying to keep any gashes on the two brothers from getting infected. All the while you heard a few muffled sort of groans from Loki’s room and winced at them. Even if you hated the guy, no one deserved to be in pain.

When you came back to his room, you could tell he was half awake and his body was realizing the extent of his injuries, and in a lot of pain from what you could see. You carefully placed the ice pack you grabbed from your freezer onto his sweat covered forehead and tried to sneak out without a sound when he cut you off.

His voice was weak and scratchy but he still sounded threatening to you, “Who are you?”

He sounded different from before. More mature for sure, calmer. He wasn’t as demanding and angry, but then again he was kind of in your care at the moment. You smiled to yourself. It wasn’t often you felt self-confidence. You weren’t some goddess from space or a super soldier. You didn’t have powers and still, you chose to do the right thing even for someone who was bad, at least in their past. You chose to be the bigger person in this situation.

Softly you placed the pile of things from your arms onto the dresser by the door and turned back to Loki who looked frightened and hurting. His eyes were open wide, but he grimaced as the relentless pounding in his head continued to blind him.

“I’m y/n, and you should get some rest.”

You walked over the window and pulled it shut quietly, drawing up the blinds to stop any light from coming through. He hummed in appreciation to the darkened room.

You took a wet face cloth from your pile of things and walked over to his side with the intention of cleaning off his face one more time. You reached down to touch his face but he grabbed your arm in his hand, wincing at the pain in his side from the knife wound you had patched up.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He asked harshly.

“Helping you, now hold still. You’ll feel better,” you said shortly, reaching again to touch his cheek.

“I do not need the help of a mortal, leave me be.”

He rolled over to his non-injured side; ignoring your figure that was hovering over him.

After a while, you gave in to his childishness and picked up your things intending to leave. You looked back at the god, his hair still messed up and covered in dirt. The bed slightly dipping under his weight. You remembered that in one of your phone calls with Jane, she said something about Loki being mind-controlled during New York, not that it justified anything that had happened. She said he was damaged and hurt and needed help.

Looking back at Loki you rolled your eyes at his petty behaviour. Maybe he was hurt, but could someone like him really be healed?

tags: 

@tarynkauai

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[nomadmilk]

Big Break (Peter Parker x F!Reader) - Part 5

Summary: It’s difficult working as CEO of Stark Industries, even if it was temporary. Stress has gotten the better of you, and so has Parker’s. Together, somehow, you guys find a way to escape your busy work lives.

Total Word Count: 10838 (Split into parts).

RATING: T+

Warnings: Oh -um - slightly drunk/slightly tipsy Peter due to drinking. Swearing, erm... Just Peter being adorable again. Fluuuff.

Author’s Note: I did a little research on whether Peter Parker could actually get drunk, and there was one instance in the comics he does... I’m still pinning the fact that he’s still human at the end of the day so, he might be Spider-Man, but he is still a human being... Apologies in advance if anyone’s strict about that... But I enjoyed writing this part too 😁😁 Enjoy!! And thank you!!

Peter hangs your bag on a peg; the toy frog still peeking out of it.

You’re in front of him, sauntering forwards a little to look at the scope of things. One arm slightly aches from holding your evening groceries, and the other holding a lukewarm sandwich close to your mouth. You hadn’t taken a bite out of it for a while. You ask Peter where to place the bought goods, and he responds with taking them away and prepping them in the kitchen.

“I’ll take care of this.” He says, opening the cupboards and lifting out a couple of bowls and a few wine glasses. He checks them for any marks or smudges before setting them down on the side. “Feel free to have a look around. Make yourself at home”

You hear clinks and soft thuds in the kitchen as you hook your jacket on the back of the entrance door, careful to not drop your food from your grip. “Is it alright if I take off my heels?”

He directed you to a row of shoes next to the door, and you set your own accordingly. He pivots round with a popcorn filled green bowl, and another with chocolates and sweets, heading towards the couch. “Bathroom’s around the corner. Aunt May’s is the one next to it.”

“And this is your bedroom?” You say, already peering into the last available room, switching on the light to reveal it. It was small, with lots of blue shades. Dated screens and controls lied in the corner on top of a desk. There was a wooden ribbed closet, and a laundry basket, and a short shelf of books. Straight ahead of you, was a wide open window frame displaying the city.

“Y/N, do you want anything to drink?”

You took a final bite of your sandwich. “Just a glass of the Merlot. The other bottle is for your Aunt.”

“By the way, that’s not really my room.” Peter perches on the sofa. “Aunt May always cleans my room before I come over, so please judge that at face value.”

The comment makes you giggle and roll your eyes at Peter; he grins with teeth bare. He took hold of a remote and directed it towards the TV screen. The screen itself flashes to an animated film part way through.

It was interesting being beside Peter, and seeing where he grew up; going to see his high school, and now at his Aunt’s apartment, and even going to a convenience store he frequently went to. As you observed him through sightseeing everything, it was seeing him content with everything. The way he spoke, and the way he glanced at everything was endearing to see. You’ve seen Peter in relief from exhaustion, mentally and physically, but never in nostalgia.

You join him in the couch, crossing your legs. You notice he’s poured out a couple of glasses of wine; you choose one. “So what are we doing whilst we wait for May?”

He picks up the last available glass of the table. “She should be back soon. Y-you wanna’ talk about anything?”

Finishing a sip of your drink, something catches your eye. “Are those your glasses?” You pick them up.

“Oh. No. They’re probably Aunt May’s. That might be a new pair, cause’ the colour is different, and it doesn’t have the ch-“

Wearing the glasses, you had aligned yourself towards him. Your complexion was clear, and your eyes were gleaming through the frames. Your smile made your lips soft, that Peter felt conscious of his own. Your blouse and skirt is fit to your figure, and as you shifted in your spot, Peter adjusted himself. Did he look cool enough? Was he being too close to you? Or not close enough? Was he being creepy? He hoped he wasn’t.

“Oh, God.” You say, removing the glasses and squinting your irises back to normal. “No offence to your Aunt, but her eyesight seems pretty bad.”

He misses the glasses on you already.

“I-uh-it-I’m sure she doesn’t mind. Much. Or at all.” He swallows a large gulp of his drink.

The glasses back in their place, you leant towards him, and he reciprocates. “Peter, why am I meeting your Aunt? I mean, what are we doing here?”

You see him scratch his head, laughing off his nerves. “I, uh, wanted to take you somewhere, like a fancy restaurant, or buy you something nice… But, I knew you’ve been almost everywhere, and what ever you wanted to have you got cause’ you worked hard for it, y’know…”

Being temporary CEO did have its perks; the money was more than good, and travelling, despite it being mainly for business, was pretty opportunistic.

“So, I thought you’d just want to relax. You showed me somewhere special to you, and Aunt May’s home is mine.” Peter says, looking at you.

He takes a swig of his drink, clearing his throat, beating himself up a little inside; he should have just taken you to a restaurant.

“Thank you, Peter.” You say, a hand to his knee jolts him as much as your words. “It was sweet that you gave me a tour around the place you grew up. And you really didn’t need to think about that favour that much.”

Hesitating a simper, Peter had emptied his glass and poured himself another. He then offered you a top-up, of which you accepted in delight. You grab the bowl of popcorn. “So, who keeps the Lego sets? Is it you, or Ned? Cause’ I don’t think I’ve seen any of them with you.”

“Oh. Right!” Peter perks up. “Ned keeps most of them. I asked Mr Stark if I could put some in my lab.”

“I heard about that. Did you really think it was a good idea to put your life-size baby dinosaur near your lab doors?”

“Yes. It took twelve hours…”

The evening filled with as much conversation as you and Peter had wine. The room felt warm so Peter made himself comfortable by discarding his hoodie. His fingers combed through his hair as he spoke about the start of his internship with Stark Industries, and his eyes dart away when he glances at you. The TV becomes background noise and, as you chat about each other’s high school education, glasses are replenished until the bottle became hollow.

Peter then stood from the couch, and slid a Star Wars disc into the DVD player, completing a joke with a punchline that made you laugh some more. The conversation’s focus shifted to the TV screen. With a little stumble, he made his way back to the couch, where your legs had lifted and bent onto the cushions. He takes hold of your calves, tickling you a bit, and settles them onto his lap as you idly watch the movie. You talk about lightsabers, munching on popcorn, hoping that Stark Industries’ next secret project was Luke Skywalker’s Jedi weapon… Or Obi Wan’s… Or Mace Windu’s…

They’d be non-lethal, of course. And, the real ones would be kept in Peter’s lab.

Peter is a lightweight; he was giggling constantly, grinning stupidly. His eyes were glazed in bliss. His speech was slurring, and he’d frequently ramble, and occasionally stop mid-sentence. He was stroking your legs lightly as you laid them on top of him. You don’t think he noticed his actions that much, but the feel of his hands rubbing against your stocking covered skin was sensual, and weirdly comforting at the same time.

Peter murmurs something intangible.

“Peter?” You scoot to him, missing his touch. “Are you okay?”

Still hearing mumbles, you scoot closer some more, carefully removing your legs off of him to not disturb him too much. “Peter?”

His head rests on top of the sofa’s armrest. He moves his neck, looking down at you, his eye lids half closed. “I wish I could kiss you sober.”

You froze at his words. His eyes still lingering at you, unfazed. “God, I really want to kiss you.”

The longer his eyes stayed on you, the more you felt a beat get more distinctive in your chest.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks.

You nod, and a grin formed on his face, his eyelids close slowly. “Would you kiss me back?”

In terms of your inhibition levels, things were fine. You had taken your time with you glasses of wine that it had given you a little buzz. But it had wavered, and it was coming to your senses; you should be giving him some water, maybe a sick bowl, a blanket, perhaps…

“Yes, Peter, I would kiss you back.” You say.

“I really like you.” Peter says, sounding like a deep hum. “Do you like me back?”

“Yeah, Peter, I like you too.”

Hearing a faint snore, you realise you had been staring at his sleeping visage.

Aunt May arrived fifteen minutes later, seeing you place a blanket onto a couch. She sees Peter’s brown tresses turn to reveal his face in slumber. As you hear a lock turn, you face towards the noise’s direction. You apologise immediately, in a whisper, tip-toeing around a sleeping Peter, introducing yourself, and extending a hand for a handshake. Her hands are wet.

She shook your hand, keeping to the same volume as you. “You work with Peter, don’t you?”

“Yeah-“

“Ah! Temporary CEO, erm, Y/N, right?” She took off her coat, hanging it on a peg. It was soaked. “It’s really great to finally meet you. Peter’s mentioned you more than a few times.”

“Oh-“

“I mean-, he’s mentioned you, not too much – not like he talks about you too less, either – he talks about you when you’re mentioned. Basically.”

You started to realise where Peter’s super polite, yet awkward, mannerisms came from.

“Oh, God.” She wipes droplets off of her forehead. “I’m such a bad Aunt. Let me start again. I’m May, Peter’s Aunt.”

“It’s really nice to finally meet you.”

“Did he get you some food? He’s a grown man, I know, but I still don’t know if he’s actually good at being hospitable.”

“Yes, he’s been great. I think he’s just drunk a little bit too much.” You chuckle, unhooking your coat. “I’m really sorry, but I should go. Happy’s outside to take me home.”

She was approaching the kitchen, starting to lay out pots and pans on top of the stove. Surprisingly, the clatter doesn’t wake Peter up. “Are you sure? I can make you some meatloaf, I’m sure Peter’s told you about-“

In haste, you graciously decline. “I’m really sorry. I’d love to, but I really have to go. I’ve got a busy schedule tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s fair.” Turning to you, she places her hands on her hips. “Well, be careful out there. It’s raining.”

[drbtinglecannon]

Feathers and sniffles

Hi I wrote another huwumi fic cause I need more content so I guess I'll provide it myself. This is just a fluffy sickfic, hope you enjoy! Also on Ao3.

---

A delinquent's quirk managed to spread a non-lethal illness to anyone in a specific radius. They had been apprehended, but not before managing to make a number of high-ranking pros and regular civilians come down with an extremely exaggerated case of the common cold.

The exact names of the affected were kept from the public, as to not stir unease in the week or two it took for them to recover. In the meantime several hero academies took this opportunity to have students studying for their licenses to work in large groups and pick up all the patrolling hours being neglected.

UA was one of the schools involved in this project. Shouto has been texting Fuyumi updates often to help ease her stress of him and his other equally young classmates running around playing Hero.

Thankfully the individual infecting people was not affiliated with any group, and claims to have taken out a number of villains and petty criminals as well. Given there has been little incident last week and most drug stores have sold out of cough drops and cold medicine, the police are inclined to believe him but tighten security in certain areas to be safe.

Being related to one of the pros turned sick, Fuyumi volunteered to be among those trusted by the police to monitor some of the heroes a couple times a day. It was too dangerous filling any one hospital with all the out-of-commission pros during the mini epidemic, so their addresses were shared with a very small select group of family or friends.

Some heroes, like Best Jeanist, had a plethora of very dedicated employees to check up on them. Others who were more of loners, like Miruko, had to deal with good Samaritans coming by to help out a bit.

Which is how Fuyumi finds herself in Hawks apartment.

It was on the very top floor of the building, and immediately upon entry Fuyumi could see it had large glass doors that let copious amounts of light pour in, leading to a nice sized balcony that housed several potted plants. The location made sense, Hawks' wings made access to the highest level of the complex simple and the balcony was an added convenience to come and go from.

The space was otherwise plain looking with a small couch, weights, TV and gaming consoles, and a futon roll on the ground. There were a number of empty waters, feathers, and a couple bottles of painkillers strewn on the floor, probably used in vain to try and combat the quirk.

Of the few heroes Fuyumi stopped to visit during free time over the week, Hawks’ space was easily the cleanest. She shuddered thinking back on Mt.Lady’s disastrous place, hoping it was mostly due to her being sick and didn't always look like that.

The sound of running water came from down the hall, signaling the winged hero must be showering.

Fuyumi closed and locked the door behind her, taking her shoes off before sliding on the guest slippers by the door. It was a little nerve-wracking coming over at all, but even stranger to use a spare key to enter.

She dropped a small bag of essentials on the kitchen counter, quickly putting things in the fridge and searching the cabinets for a stock pot to reheat the soup in. Hawks had a surprisingly large array of cookware, leading her to assume he cooked often.

Eventually Fuyumi found an appropriate pot and poured the soup in, placing it on a burner. The water down the hall stopped, and a few moments later a door opened. “Hello, please excuse me!” She called out.

Uncharacteristically heavy footsteps padded down the hall, and there emerged a pitifully miserable looking Hawks. He had large bags under his eyes, his skin was pale and clammy even after his shower, his hair fell limply around his face, and his nose was red.

He sniffled, and rubbed his eyes. “Hey…” Even his voice sounded pitiful.

Fuyumi gave him a sympathetic look, not bothering to criticize he greeted a guest with nothing but a large fluffy towel around his waist and...very tiny wings.

There were hardly any of those bright colored feathers attached to his back, and the ones there drooped sadly. “Um...where are your wings?” Fuyumi tried and failed to word the question eloquently.

“Hm? Oh…” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I can control the feathers, but when I'm super tired or sick it's kind of fuzzy so I just let ‘em fall off. They're all over my room.”

She nodded, still a little confused on the nature of his quirk. She's seen on TV before how he can remove and reattach the feathers at will, but it was strange to see him wingless because he couldn't control them in his current state.

“Well, I brought you chicken soup, I figured you would prefer that to miso.” She gestured to the pot. “I can make you a serving after you get dressed.”

She half expected him to make a teasing joke about his state of undress, but instead he made a non-committal noise and slowly shuffled back down the hall to his room. Though she appreciated he was too sick to sass or flirt for once, it was bizarre.

Fuyumi pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and filled it with soup, hoping it would help Hawks act a little more normal.

Loud footfall signaled his return, and he carelessly fell onto the couch. He was still shirtless but had put on baggy sweatpants and a small towel on his shoulders. Fuyumi supposed that was dressed enough, and hoped he wasn't so delirious he’d spill hot soup on his bare chest.

Fuyumi grabbed a water from the fridge and carried it over with the warmed food. She sat next to him, no concern over the illness being contagious from anyone but the actual quirk-user, and gently nudged the bowl into his hands.

He huffed a thanks, and they sat in mostly silence. Hawks quietly slurping spoonfuls of broth, sniveling every few seconds, and occasionally groaning softly in annoyance, and Fuyumi lightly tapping away on her phone.

Eventually Hawks finished the soup and downed the water. He slumped back on the couch while Fuyumi swiftly took the bowl back to the kitchen. She washed it and the pot, and gathered up the various discarded bottles on the floor for the recycling bin.

“Hawks? Won't you be more comfortable sleeping in your bed?” Fuyumi nudged his shoulder gently until he finally blinked his eyes open.

“Hmm…hey…” He dropped his head back down and tried to resume napping.

She breathed a laugh. “Yes, hi. Now come on, let me take you to bed.”

Fuyumi slapped her hand over her mouth, face heating up from the poor wording of her request. She stared at the hero wide-eyed, scared of what his response will be.

Maybe he'll just shamelessly flirt back? But what if he gets weirded out or offended? I'm just supposed to be here to help, not accidentally say awkward things...

Hawks lifted his head up again, and sniffled. “...ok.” He slowly pushed himself off the couch, grabbed Fuyumi’s hand, and led her down the hall. Or he won't care...that works too.

Normally Fuyumi would've protested holding hands, but Hawks looked so out of it he probably didn’t even notice he took her hand. His palm felt sweaty, but she decided not to vocally complain.

Fuyumi briefly wonders how it'd feel to hold his hand sometime when he's not sick. Not that she'd tell the winged hero that.

The walk down the hall is short, even despite how slowly Hawks was moving. He pushed open the door to his room and made a b-line to the bed, letting go of Fuyumi’s hand so he could fall face first on it.

He wasn't kidding earlier, his room was covered in feathers. The fluffy quills stuck all over everything as if a bomb of crimson paint had exploded. Fuyumi was momentarily terrified when the door first swung open before realizing the walls were in fact not caked in blood. Aside from that, there were a couple more small succulents on his dresser, some clothes thrown on the ground, and a tall bookcase filled with novels and comics.

There was a glass of water and some more medicine on the bedside table, which Fuyumi happily took note of.

Fuyumi glanced around, before stopping on Hawks’ form collapsed on the bed. “Would you like me to tuck you in?” Briefly she worried again about crossing any boundaries, but Hawks peered up at her and nodded.

He shuffled a little so he was no longer lying on the sheets. She pulled them up and draped them gently over his back and shoulders, smiling when he mumbled a thanks.

Fuyumi tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced around. “Would you like me to help clean up? There are a lot of feathers everywhere...”

Hawks closed his eyes and shook his head a little. He looked like he was going to pass out any second, but eventually he cleared his throat. “Todo-san?” She didn't comment on the nickname, but hummed encouragingly for him to continue. “...Would you stay ‘til I fall asleep?”

Fuyumi’s face felt warm, the request was innocent but asked so timidly. It was hard to turn him down, especially when he was in this state, so she agreed and sat on the edge of the bed next to him after scooting some quills out of the way.

Fuyumi played with her hair nervously, reading the titles on the binds of the books she could see from her spot. She glanced at Hawks and smiled softly at his relaxed and sleepy expression. He was usually so talkative and snarky, but being sick left him very quiet.

Hawks was still sniffling a bit as he lied there. “Todo-san?” His voice was so small she would've missed it if there was any other noise in the room.

“Yes, Hawks? Do you need anything?” Fuyumi leaned a little closer to better hear him when he responded.

“Thanks for coming by…’ppreciate it…” Hawks snuggled his face further into his pillow, which made it harder to hear his hoarse mumbling. “I owe y’one.”

Fuyumi laughed lightly. “It's no problem, but if you want to repay me you can just get better soon. Ok?” He hummed in response, probably too close to sleep to properly understand her words.

After a couple minutes of occasionally peeping at Hawks’ face to check for any discomfort, Fuyumi was certain he fell dead asleep. She slowly stood from the bed and tiptoed out of the room, gingerly closing the door behind her.

Fuyumi did a quick scan of the living room to see if there were any missed bottles to clean up. She grabbed her bag and was about to leave when she noticed a whiteboard on the fridge with a grocery list on it.

She paused, before taking the marker and writing a small note. With that she took her leave, locking the door behind her.

---

Hawks slowly blinked his eyes open, and immediately was hit with a wave of pain and disgust. He wished he spent more time appreciating how easy it was to breath through his nose back when he had the ability too.

The winged hero groaned as he sat up, spine cracking in several places. He was only in his early twenties but felt so old right now. He tossed a couple pills from the medicine bottle into his mouth then grabbed the water next to it and chugged, ignoring the slight discomfort on his throat from swallowing.

When he finished he stood up and headed to the kitchen to get more water, sniffling every few seconds. He pulled open the fridge door, grabbed the pitcher from the shelf, filled his glass, and put it back.

When he closed the door, he did a double take at the exterior.

Hawks had a whiteboard on the fridge for his grocery list, but a neat handwriting that definitely wasn't his had marked it.

-

You fell asleep, so I made sure the dishes and empty bottles were cleaned up before leaving. As I said before, you can repay me by getting better soon! :) -Todoroki Fuyumi

-

The winged hero must've reread the words at least five times now, face getting warmer with each time.

The first real smile he's had since getting sick spread on his face as he read the message a sixth time. “Well...I guess being sick hasn't been too bad. I really hope Todoroki-san is the one to drop by tomorrow too.”

[monokingdraws]

lapis & lazuli

here’s a little ficlet about my fav twins, talking about the past... sorry if some of the details about 17 are off, i haven’t finished the part of super where he appears yet, so i just. shoved headcanon in lol

"18... Do you remember life before Gero?"

The question catches her off guard, and she holds her shoulder as if injured. "No. I've told you that before." After those bombs were removed from their bodies - that horrid first year or so of them both not knowing what to do with themselves, wandering around like drifters, 17 brought it up once, and the conversation went on for hours, trying to debate the facts.

Android 17 disappears for months, sometimes years on end. Although she'd never show it by actually reaching out to him, curiosity usually strikes 18 when her twin goes quiet again. So, she's pleasantly surprised when he appears on her doorstep.

"Oh, it's you." Her voice is bland.

In a way, she's surprised he knew where to find her. It isn't as if they talk much, and with krillin's new work at the police station, staying at crappy old kame house with the hermit and the turtle wasn't that appealing anymore. So how the hell did 17 find the new apartment?

"Gee, that's a nice way to greet your brother. Can I come in?" He smiles cooly, leaning in the door frame until 18 moves to let him through. His icy blue eyes glance over the small apartment, and he whistles. "Hey, this is pretty nice."

Marron makes a small noise, somewhat excited. She sits at the kitchen table in a chair with many pillows beneath her to proper her up, and her crayons are rolling everywhere. Her mouth makes an O shape, and she starts to slide down to the floor, but hesitates. She's only met 17 once.

"Hey, there. It's been a while. Geez, you're getting big." 17 rounds the table, approaching his niece, and 18 falls back, standing at the entrance to the kitchen with her arms crossed.

"Do you remember me? It's your uncle 17," and he extends his hand, but Marron only takes it after looking up to her mom for confirmation, getting a nod in response. 17 laughs softly, giving Marron a hug, then breaking away and stroking her hair.

"Why are you here, 17?" 18 asks. Her brother doesn't answer for a long time, crouching on the floor, stroking Marron's hair. 

"It's getting kind of late. Shouldn't she be in bed already?"

"It's only 7.30. Her bedtime is 8:00." 

“Oh, I see then."

There's an awkward moment of quiet. Marron gets bored and climbs back up to go back to her coloring. 17 still doesn't turn back to his sister, instead chuckling at the chubby little kiddo wrestling with her pillows.

"She's got her dad's nose, I guess."

"17," 18 says, demanding. She's not in a mood to play games, nor is she ever, and the avoidance of any real conversation is starting to bother her. "What's going on, exactly?" her brother traces his fingers on the table idly.

"Where's your husband at, 18?"

"At work," she replies quickly, annoyance seeping into her voice. "C'mon, don't be an - don't be a jerk." 17 sighs, and finally, he whips around to face his sister. He hesitates to speak, because he realizes the difference between them is so noticeable. 18's made herself her own family, looking like a tv housewife, and he's simply entered another person's family, like an intruder. But eventually, he shakes off his thoughts about that and starts to speak.

"18... Do you remember life before Gero?"

The question catches her off guard, and she holds her shoulder as if injured. "No. I've told you that before." After those bombs were removed from their bodies - that horrid first year or so of them both not knowing what to do with themselves, wandering around like drifters, 17 brought it up once, and the conversation went on for hours, trying to debate the facts.

"Or should I say... Lazuli. That was you, 18. That was your name." 17 isn't smiling anymore. He makes an awkward face. Neither of them know how to talk to each other anymore. Especially not about difficult topics.

"...Keep talking," she says numbly. 17 puts his hand on his chest. "I’m Lapis, and you're Lazuli. We were just kids. Do you remember? Can I sit down?" Everything feels a bit fuzzy. 17’s talking fast suddenly. Marron rubs her eyes, and 18 feels vaguely sick to her stomach, sitting at her shiny new kitchen table across from her brother.

"We were just kids," he repeats. "I guess we were just barely teens. It was a car accident. We used to joyride a lot," a small smile, "do you remember that? We were real troublemakers. It was a car accident, out there in the mountains. I don't know how we got up there, but I guess the old doc found our bodies and figured it was a prime opportunity."

18 keeps swallowing, as if it'll make the uncomfortable feelings go away. "I'm going to put Marron to bed."

"It's only 7:48.”

"Close enough."

They both wish Marron good night. Despite her age, she's new to sleeping in her own bed,18 having spoiled her, but Marron's tuckered out enough from a day of having fun at the park that she goes down easy enough. 18 leans against her daughter's door, waiting for her little girl to cry out, but it never comes.

"You know, I didn't mean to hurt you," 17 speaks up. 18 gasps softly, looking at him strangely. "What?"

"You're pale as a ghost. I didn't tell you that stuff to scare you. I was hoping I could make you remember."

"You didn't scare me," she lies. "I want to know more -" and suddenly everything she's thought about for the last few years spills out, "- do you remember our family? Our parents, or anyone we knew before?"

"No. I... I think I have an idea of our mom, I know we lived with her at the time. Long hair," he makes a motion towards his sister, "same texture as yours, but a dark color. Maybe my hair color. I dunno."

18 sighs. "You want a soda? I'm thirsty."

"18, I’m home." The door swings open, but Krillin grabs it in time to keep it from slamming. He's accidentally done that a few times, making a small dent with the doorknob. He pulls off his helmet the second he's inside, setting it on the table where his keys go, and - before he's even got his second boot off, Krillin's eyes widen.

"A-Android 17?"

"Hey." 17 waves from the table, sipping purple soda.

"Hi," 18 greets, warmness spreading into her voice as she walks to her husband. "I cracked open that soda you bought at the new convenience store. I like it. We should buy that brand from now on."

"Uh, sure." Krillin's extremely put off by seeing 17 around, and avoids coming too close to him as he walks around the kitchen. "H-Hey, 17. How's, uh, the forest doing nowadays?" "Pretty good. You work at the police station, right?" "Yeah, that's me... Officer Krillin! I'm not really, uh, doing any field work, though."

He laughs nervously. "I wish I knew you were here, I, uh, grabbed some snacks in case 18 stayed up, I coulda bought some for you."

"That's fine," 17 says cooly, and rises from his seat. "I’m about to go, anyway. Thanks for the pop."

18 watches her brother pretend to be polite and leave the cup in the sink, but she stops him with a hand when he tries to say goodbye. He blinks, confused.

"...Put your number in my phone," she demands, retrieving her cell phone from her pocket and shoving the 'add new contact' screen 17's way.

He obliges, and then heads for the door. "I've only got a landline, just for the record. So don't try to spam me with emojis."

Krillin watches him walk out, sweating a little.

18 puts the contact name as "brother / 17 / lapis."

Outwardly, 18 has never been a very affectionate person. As long as she can remember.

"G'night," Krillin says when he's yawning every few seconds and she's done reading her romance novel she doesn't really even like.

"Good night," 18 echoes, but as they both settle under the covers together, the distance between them is both figurative and physical. It only takes Krillin a minute or two to speak up. "18?" His voice is quiet and questioning. The way he does that with his voice, so gentle sounding and nice, makes her heart melt. Her body relaxes on it's own, and she pulls him close. "Are you okay..?"

He follows up on his own, and that's when 18 breaks, asking him softly to turn on the light. Krillin obeys, quickly snuggling back up with her, and together, they half sit up, cozy under thick blankets on a large bed, bought on credit.

Something feels wrong. Everything feels wrong, and she can't keep it together anymore. "No. No, I'm not."

Krillin starts to turn and look at her, but 18's face is so hardened with - pain? Maybe it's fear? She can't look at him. "Krillin, 17 came by to tell me about my life before Gero."

"18..." "He says my name was Lazuli." "And - And you think he's telling the truth? I mean, I don't think he'd lie, but what I mean is - does that sound true to you?"

"...I don't know. I think it does. He told me stories about who we were before, who I was..."

Krillin starts to gently rub her arm to soothe her. They're still not looking at each other, somewhat awkwardly cuddling together, looking straight ahead. The empty space on top of the dresser at the end of the room stares.

"Krillin, I - I want to believe it, I know it's got to be true but... Why can't I remember?"

Her voice sounds so pained, it fires up all of Krillin's anger at that nasty old red ribbon bastard for doing this to his wife. He holds his hand up, trying to comfort her.

"18 - Lazuli, if that's okay - He messed with your head. Of course you wouldn't remember everything perfectly. He didn't want you to be a person, he wanted you to be a killing machine."

18 feels so numbed by confusion, it takes a moment for her to realize she's crying. Krillin holds her for a very long time, stroking her shoulders, gently patting her, shushing. Krillin is so nice. So kind.

She makes a mental note to thank him for all he does for her when she feels more up to it.

[deadlypressure]

Some Wardrobe Ramblings and Self Image Struggles

I hate tight clothing. I hate the way it makes me feel about my body, I hate how it impedes my motion, I hate that I can’t wear anything tight/restrictive across my hips without massive pain from the waist down after 5 hours.

I like long, full skirts, I like the way they flow and make me feel elegant.

I like heavy denim/leather jackets and thick soled shoes, I like that they make me feel strong. Heels do this too, with more elegance. I like how light and quiet my feet are in converse and vans, I like how convenient they are. Same for flipflops. I like how cute my sparkly converse are, I wear them with men’s jeans and giggle at how confused some hyper detail-oriented super-cis would get at the combination.

I don’t like that I don’t have the patience for makeup and hair styling, I hate that I don’t know how to deal with either one. It makes me feel immature and kinda like I fail as an “adult” woman

I like how comfortable my men’s carpenter jeans and t-shirts are, I even kinda like how they look. I don’t like how immature it looks, I feel like I look like a 13 year old boy. It’s really bad with any kind of graphic t-shirt.

I like to pair my carpenters with tight-ish tank tops, I used to wear men’s undershirt tank tops, they looked good once I stretched them out just right. They were form fitting without being skin-tight, had an alt/punk look with my jeans and work boots, and were easy maintenance too. But I didn’t like the cultural connotations of the wife beater shirt. I haven’t found a suitable replacement yet, women’s shirts seem to all be made of that soft knit that pills after just so many washes.

I like to wear long sleeve button downs, like flannels and twill work shirts, as jackets. I buy them from the men’s department, the women’s shirts are always too small through the shoulders and bind and pull funny. Oddly enough, a size small, slim fit men’s button down will be more flattering and fit around my chest and hips better than a women’s size medium or large. It makes me smile to think about that. Sometimes I buy them grossly oversized, just for the aesthetic, but I also buy them so they fit as intended.

When I want to both wear pants and feel semi-formal, like date night or job interview appropriate, I feel like I have to wear tight pants. This is literally the only reason I keep women’s jeans anymore. I feel like dress pants are too formal for interviews or dates anymore, unless it’s extra important somehow, but loose jeans are too casual and skirts aren’t generally suggested when walking into an interview for a job in a traditionally masculine field that typically involves some amount of grime and lifting. Irritating, but not the point. I feel like tight jeans are the only step between loose jeans and dress pants in terms of formality in pants, and I hate it. Again, if I try to wear a button down with my loose men’s jeans, I feel like a 13 year old boy.

I like loose sweaters, they feel comfy and cozy. I pair them with my button downs and feel classy.

I like necklaces, long and short chains. I like to layer them, just two at a time. I like rings, I think they make my hands look longer and more elegant. I’d wear earrings, but my ear piercings are weird and wearing any kind of earring for any length of time makes my earlobes itch. I feel no need to get a nose ring, the upkeep seems like too much for an aesthetic choice I’m not terribly fond of, but I like the idea of getting gauges in my ear lobes. I like the look of the 5mm, just big enough to get some cool tunnel designs, small enough to conform to conservative looks with the right plugs. Stone plugs are cool.

I wish my eye brows were longer and fuller, that my chin was sharper. I like my eyelashes, I wish my lower lip weren’t quite so wide, sometimes I wish my lips weren’t so full. Sometimes my head seems too big, sometimes it seems too small. My eyes sometimes seem too small. I’ve finally embraced my long legs and thick thighs, they’re not double c thick, but they are by no means small. I don’t mind my foot size, they’re just big enough that I can sometimes get adult men’s shoes and can still wear some kid’s shoes

I can’t seem to get comfortable with my chest, it’s not that showing cleavage makes me uncomfortable anymore, except when I bend over, just the feeling of them. Bras are uncomfortable, even when they fit, I hate the tightness over my chest and shoulders. I don’t like the feeling of my boobs moving, though, and I don’t like to feel  them resting against my chest wall. I don’t like the feeling of my stomach spilling over my waist band, I don’t like to see the double lump in the front of my shirt from it, and though in some lighting on some days it doesn’t bother me, I still hate to see it most days.

I used to get really uncomfortable and uneasy at the stares I got when I wore shorts or a lower cut top. There’s still some of that, but it’s pretty heavily diluted with irritation. If I’m wearing anything remotely empowering, odd, or alt, I might even feel slightly... Smug? I guess? Uhg, that sounds kinda gross in writing. Basically, it’s just me reveling in the attention I draw when I wear anything remotely odd or flattering, feeling powerful because I made a distinct impression on a stranger without hardly trying. It’s shallow and petty, but I can’t deny that I feel satisfaction in it.

I like to wear black, it makes me feel strong. I like to dress elegantly, and I wish I could do it more often, but it’s draining and feels like it takes so much effort just to wear the clothing, like it has to be for some specific reason or else it’s just not worth it. It’s kinda draining to wear virtually any feminine clothes anymore, even if it’s casual. I want to wear more green, I feel like wearing black too often makes me more irritable, like I need to wear more green, blue, or pink to take a break from the heightened aggressiveness that I get from wearing black. I like to wear green when I want to feel like a dryad. I wear pink because it’s a cute color that makes me happy and makes me feel cute. I wear blue when I’m not feeling hype enough for green or pink, and just want to be a mellow kind of positive. I have a lot of disparate styles of clothing and can’t commit to one specific aesthetic image. By far the most common, though, are a selection of aggressive, all black outfits of varying levels of formality with heavy alt influences, but are still largely purchased from mainstream providers. Uncommitted alt or noob alt, I guess you could call it.

I know that clothing has no gender. I know that wearing makeup or not, styling my hair or not, does not make me any more or less of an adult or a woman. I know that I shouldn’t care about other people’s opinions, that I shouldn’t live for them or dress for them or societal standards. That tight clothing means nothing. That clothing does not inform maturity, or make a personality. These are just weird, inescapable feelings I have towards myself, my body, and the clothing I put on it. Honestly, this is just me trying to sort out some of my gender issues and maybe force myself to take an honest look at my wardrobe choices. Verbalizing like this and shouting it out into cyber space helps in a way that talking it over with family or writing in journal just doesn’t seem to. It’s kinda all over the place and confusing, the language is kinda disjointed, but that’s just how disorganized my thoughts on all of this are. 

I know that labels aren’t necessary, and that you can just like something without going so far as to associate yourself with the community attached to it, and that gender is a spectrum and that you can just say you’re unspecified and leave it at that, but I have literally no firm associations for myself. I’m white. I like the weird bouncy music that pays attention to clever word play that good kids shows like to use. It’s part of why I like Steam Powered Giraffe and Aurelio Voltaire. I like music that features layered instrumentals and complex vocals, rather than focusing on electronic sounds and a simple single lead and back up vocals. I require daily dosage of music with a heavy bass sound and strong beat, I like the older Disturbed albums. Deep voices make the serotonin go brrrrr. I’m not Judeo-Christian, and that has been a consistent source of ostracization for me. I don’t do the social well. I’m paranoid and have troubles getting out of bed or otherwise finding the motivation to perform simple tasks to fill basic needs, I get fixated on unsolvable problems. I have a nasty gossip habit and an unhealthy reliance on my mother for social interaction and validation, which are definitely connected. I am touch starved, I have always had to ask for prolonged physical contact. I’m terrified of vulnerability, and it prevents me from taking the chance of rejection to make friends or explore my sexuality. I have low self-esteem and often find myself using stupid, arbitrary things to make myself feel superior or victimized. I tend to sound like a snob when discussing my tastes in music and humor or my relationship with religion.

All of this, I know for a fact about myself, but nothing to connect myself to a larger positive culture. No social community to offer new avenues of interaction, if I have to move to another state, there’s no place I can go to reliably meet someone with some kind of common ground or shared experience. The only source of social interaction I get is family and work. This ties back into my gender issues, am I only questioning my initial assumptions about my sexuality and gender because there’s this enormous community out there that I could be a part of without even knowing it? Could relative mental stability be one teet-yeet away? One magical answer to all of my unsolvable immaterial mental issues? Would it be such a consistent gnawing concern if I were the societal norm, or is it just my indisputable anxiety taking hold of an untrue thought and refusing to let go of it? Yeah, my brain is a mess, and I need a therapist to work through this with me, rather than just smearing my emotional waste all over the internet. At least the tag based system means no one will ever find this.

[canaryatlaw]

OKAY. so my entire day post is going to be put under a cut because the entire thing is WAY TMI, but there’s way too much shit that happened that I need to process and I already gave the sanitized language version of it on twitter but I can’t fully process it without getting into details. you have been warned- WAY TMI. 

okay, so. backstory, I woke up on Tuesday with stomach pain and ended up spending most of the day on the toilet. By the time I finished (like 7 hours later- yeah it was BAD) I noticed there was something weird going on down there, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Wednesday morning I was having a lot of pain and it occurred to me that maybe because of Tuesday I had a hemorrhoid (it only gets worse from here, so if that makes you squirm you should bail out now), but like, idk because I’ve never had one before and idk what they look like, so I googled it and shit and did their home remedy stuff, sitting on a ice pack helped, I did a “sitz bath” (which is basically sitting in four inches lukewarm water for 15 minutes), aloe vera, and really nothing helped. Woke up this morning and it was still bad. I showered because the warm water did help a bit, but I was getting suspicious at this point that something else was going on here, so I asked my mom to look at it and she was like WOW OKAY WE’RE GOING TO THE DOCTOR. And here lies the problem of trying to diagnose and treat your injuries off google, because I wouldn’t have known that other than my suspicions that hey there’s this giant bulge in my ass crack and it probably shouldn’t be there. my primary care couldn’t fit me in today but they recommended we go to the walk in clinic, so we do that and the doctor takes one look at that and is like “yeah this looks like a rectal prolapse and a hemorrhoid and you need to go to the ER right away” OH JOY. so if you’re not up on your scientific vocabulary, a rectal prolapse is basically when part of your digestive tract comes outside of your body and usually requires surgery to fix. wonder-fucking-ful. Thankfully we’re close to the local hospital that’s like, the number one trauma center on LI (it’s like two miles from my house so that’s always been convenient) so we go there and the urgent care people gave us a letter to give the triage people, but we still ended up waiting in the hallway for like an hour and a half, during which I was in pure misery, but the male nurse who drew my blood was sweet though and slightly flirty but in a nice and not a creepy way so there’s that at least. he left the needle in my arm because it sounded like I’d be needing it at some point. So eventually we get called, and taken into a section called the clinical decisions unit, where I guess is where they figure out if you need surgery or not. So I get in there and someone comes to look and is like OH YEAH LEMME GO GET THE DOCTOR because everyone seemed to agree this was high key bad, so they got doctors, and more doctors, they even took pictures and sent them to the head guy of the department, but the consensus was oh yeah, this needs surgery to fix. and at this point I’m just like fine, just get it done. they did give me some pain medication around 3 or so, which ended up by 5 mg of morphine, which took pretty much all my pain away and I only felt slightly woozy lol but that perked me up significantly and I was actually like talking and stuff instead of lying there looking like death. there was a bit of a wait for the OR so we had to chill for a while, then eventually I get brought in there and the surgeon comes and like, I had been thinking all day about watching The Resident and just how ridiculously easy it is for them to just straight up kill patients in routine surgeries and they have the one chief of surgery who’s got a hand tremor and is just like slicing organs open, and then in comes this guy who’s like the #1 in the department and has gray hair and I’m just like FUCK MY LIFE I hope I survive this lol (I know the show isn’t very realistic when it comes to that subject). So we’re getting ready, their general idea is that they’re just gonna cut the damn thing off because it looked infected and shit, so they go to check and the doctor is like “oh, uh, it’s gone” and I was like......”really? are you sure????” cuz apparently it slipped back in because that’s a thing that can happen, but they were like well we should still probably go ahead with the surgery because the hemorrhoid is still there and could pop back out, so we go for it, they decided to not do general anesthesia but do sedation, whatever the difference between those two is, so I was out anyway and I woke up after and they were like “yeah so turns out it wasn’t a hemorrhoid and he didn’t have to do any cutting or stitching” and I was like “....so then what did he do?” haha and I’m still not 100% sure about that one really, but they were more than happy to send me home which I was very thankful for because I did not want to spend part of my spring break in the hospital. so they got me out of there pretty quickly with a giant bandage on my butt that I’m not sure is serving any purpose at all really, but they told me to leave it on there until I shit again so I guess that’s what I’ll do. We got home, my mom went to pick up the percocet they called into the pharmacy for me but they were closed, a little while after my dad and my brother got home, my dad was speaking at this big thing tonight that he’s trying to launch at churches across the island about understanding the opioid epidemic and how to prevent it, and he said not quite as many people showed up as he would’ve liked but it was still good so that was good to hear. As far as how all this craziness started, I’ve in the past had episodes of like scathing stomach pain that make me feel like I have to go to the bathroom, but I usually end up cowering in pain on the toilet with nothing coming, until eventually something will give and it’ll all just pour out as liquid (again, I told you this is TMI) and like, it used to happen a lot more frequently when I wasn’t eating much and my regularity was thrown way off schedule (like once a week) but I don’t do that anymore and I take a fiber supplement every day because I’m on a high dose iron supplement thanks to me being super anemic, so it’s usually not an issue, it happened the night of my sister’s sweet 16 at the end of October but I think it’s only happened maybe once in the four months between then and now? And I did bring it up at my last gastroenterologist appointment but he didn't seem to think much of it and said it was probably just another muscle spasm (because he had just said my chest pain issues were probably caused by a muscle spasm). The doctor from the hospital tonight apparently recommended I get a colonoscopy done at some point to make sure everything is alright and in place, but idk if I’m gonna do that because I have a pretty good idea of just how this happened, plus I have a lot of like, traumatic memories about that stuff from when I was little and they thought I had Crohn’s disease (when it was actually just nightly cramps for an entire year before my period showed up) and being subjected to a bunch of really invasive stuff that I was not at all comfortable with so that’s not exactly gonna be on the top of my to do list. Other than that they said not to strain when going to the bathroom and eat a lot of fibre, so I’m gonna try harder to eat actual fiber and not just the shit in caplets, and try to make that work out better. and yeah, that is about it, after all that I chatted with friends for a bit then started getting ready for bed with this absurdly large bandage on my butt 😂 We’re supposed to go out to dinner to this super schmancy place (because my parents have a gift card to it) tomorrow to celebrate my brother and I’s birthdays (his was today but because of all the crazy we’re gonna celebrate this weekend) so hopefully that will work out. And oh yeah, since I turn 26 in 11 days, if this happened 11 days from now I would’ve totally FUCKED because I would’ve had no health insurance thanks to getting kicked off my parents plan at 26!!! Lovely *sigh*. And as much as it does suck to get sick on vacation, I am at least glad I was with my family and not in Chicago where I had nobody except like, Jess (and no offense to her in the slightest, because I’m sure she would’ve been great, but with this kind of thing a mom is just better suited for it), and that sounds kinda miserable. Okay, that’s the end for real now, I took my pills a while ago and now my eyes really want to shut and I’m going to listen to them. If you made it all the way through, thank you for suffering through all that TMI to find out how I’m actually doing, though I kinda doubt many of you will actually reach this far, lol, but I cannot blame you for that. Goodnight my dear friends. I hope your Thursday was a hell of a lot better than mine.

[moiraineswife]

“let’s keep this between the two of us.” Azriel and Feyre?

“Let’s keep this between the two of us, okay?” Feyre mutters to Az as he slips, unobtrusively into her bedchamber and she jumps to her feet, hurrying to meet him. 

The shadowsinger just nods, ever dutiful to his High Lady’s every wish. 

“No-one saw you come up here, did they?” she can’t help herself asking anxiously, glancing over his shoulder as though expecting Rhys to burst through the door at any moment and catch them together. 

Azriel just gives her a flat look that implies he’s insulted she would even ask such a thing of him. Perks of being a super spy, she supposes. 

“Alright, I’m ready,” she says, holding out a hand in invitation. Azriel grips it tightly and they winnow into shadow and darkness. They emerge moments later onto the pleasantly warm Velaris streets, pleasantly bustling but not overly crowded, something neither of them would have appreciated. 

They set off together, Azriel quietly leading the way while Feyre follows, smiling and nodding at some of the people they pass who wave greetings to her. “Thanks so much for this, Az,” she puffs out, checking her bag to ensure she brought her purse with her. She doesn’t usually, typically relying on the convenient credit she has in most stores, but she doesn’t want Rhys to have any inclination of her purchase today. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“It’s no trouble,” he says, leading them down into a quiet, shaded street and walking to the very end, a small store tucked into the corner. “I live to serve at the  High Lady’s pleasure.” She squints up at him, one eyebrow raised, and he smirks. “And entertaining as his last birthday was, I understand it’s not an experience you want to repeat.” 

“No,” Feyre groans, burying her face in a hand at the shame of it. She has many talents and she loves her mate dearly, as Azriel knows,  but gift buying has never been her strong-suit. And the bastard has a habit of finding exactly what she wants every single year without fail. Just once she wants to get him something absolutely perfect. Fortunately, she has a secret weapon in the form of Azriel. 

“Really though,” she grumbles, pushing into the shop after him, “Who’s allergic to strawberries?”  

“Rhys,” Azriel hums simply in that way that implies he knows everything in the world and that nothing could ever surprise him. 

Well, he had been surprised last year when Rhys had taken a large bite from one of the chocolates she had delightedly given him and then promptly started choking. The shadowsinger hadn’t been expecting that. Unfortunately neither had she. 

“And Keir,” he adds as an apparently innocent afterthought. 

Feyre blinks, startled, looking round at him. She supposes it’s not too odd, Keir and Rhys are related, even distantly. Still, “I suspect that comes from the list you have tucked away somewhere that details every known method of killing that bastard; not a concern for the steward’s meal choices?” She muses lightly. That tugs a small, dark smirk out of Az. 

Azriel leads her to the back of the shop then stops in front of one of the small, dusty glass-fronted cabinets to let her see what he’s picked out for her. She opens her mouth to point out that the display is stuffed full of items, she isn’t sure which one he means, but she stops when she sees it, her face lighting up in a smile. Hugging a rather startled Az she whispers, “It’s perfect.” And is relieved when he accepts the hug, smiling, patting her rather awkwardly on the shoulder to convey his acceptance of her gratitude. 

Once Feyre has made her purchase and had it carefully wrapped up by the owner, who seems friendly with Azriel, well, as friendly as anyone can be with him, the two wander back out onto the streets of Velaris. Feyre insists on dragging him into a nearby shop and pressing a large amount of fine differently coloured balls of wool into Az’s protesting hands and then further insists on taking him for a quiet cup of tea. 

She rarely spends time alone with the shadowsinger, he always seems to be out somewhere on some secret mission sometimes she doubts even Rhys knows about. That or closeted up in his room with Mor, enjoying the time he has with her. Usually she only has conversations with him like this when they all go to Rita’s and neither of them feel much like dancing for an hour or so. 

It’s nice, though. Azriel has a quiet, oddly calming presence, even with the shadows darting around him, whispering, always whispering. There’s a comfort to being around him, a sense of safety, and an odd feeling that she could tell him anything and he would simply nod and understand. As a result, Az is the one she’s gone to more times than she can count when she’s had a difficult decision about the court to make that she doesn’t want to put on her mate. He inevitably listens to all she has to say and offers a few quiet insights that help her make up her mind. She values his opinion, and his friendship, more highly than she thinks he’ll ever know. 

Not longer after they’ve sat down in a comfortable booth by the window, they’re both brought two teas and slices of cake that she hadn’t ordered, but that she suspects Azriel did, given that they’re both topped with liberal amounts of strawberries and that their arrival prompts a rare, mischievous smile to blossom across his lips. 

Feyre nibbles at her cake then decides now is as good a time as any to bring up what she wants to, as well as have her revenge for this little dig about the strawberries. Looking slyly at Az over the rim of her cup she says innocently, “I’m sorry to take you away from Mor, I know you just got back, you must have been wanting to spend some time with her.” 

Azriel just blinks at her, saying nothing, as he drops a lump of sugar into his tea. Then another. Then another. She’s discovered, from these little retreats they make to this place from time to time when they both need a little peace and quiet, that he takes an inordinate amount of sugar in his tea. He had confessed to her once, with a small smile, that it was his one and only weakness. 

Finally, carefully, too carefully, Azriel says, “I’ll have plenty of time to brief Mor, later.” Yes, brief her, amongst other things. 

“Mm,” Feyre muses, taking a small sip of tea, “Wouldn’t you rather have spent the morning with her than me?” 

Azriel blinks, apparently genuinely bemused by this comment, “You’re my friend, Feyre,” he says quietly, sincerely, “I like spending time with both of you.” Damn. She really should leave the subtlety and intrigue up to Az as well as the gift choosing. And he’s too earnest and good-natured, there’s no fun in teasing him at all. 

“Azriel,” she says quietly, a soft smile tugging at her lips, “I know.” He blinks owlishly up at her again, clearly implying you know what? And she just scowls at him because if she doesn’t get to tease him then she’s not playing games with him either. 

A deep flush of colour burns into Az’s cheeks as he stares at her, “How?” he rasps eventually and she smirks smugly at him. 

“You’re not the only one who can know other people’s secrets, Az,” she says with a grin, taking another pointed bite of the strawberry cake, which really isn’t half bad. She might have to bring Rhys here at some point, then she might have half a chance of finishing a dessert on her own without the High Lord’s spoon magically making its way over to her plate while he twitters about ‘mating bond equality’ and ‘what’s yours is mine, Feyre darling’. 

Azriel’s face darkens at that and a low, protective growl rumbles in his chest, “Who told you?” he demands, hands curling into fists. 

She starts in surprise at the sudden black venom in his voice and opens her mouth to say something when Azriel freezes, apparently realising how he’d reacted. The blush on his cheeks darkens and his wings twitch, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, and she has her suspicions that he and Mor haven’t been together for long confirmed, based on his response. 

“It’s alright, I understand,” she says quietly, and she does. That need to protect, to keep her safe must be heightened for the two of them after the amount of time they spent apart. She smiles, “And no-one told me, Az,” she huffs, a faint hint of playful scolding in her tone, “I can find some things out without the help of you and your spies, you know, I’m not blind.” 

“Says the woman who didn’t notice for nearly fifty years that her mate is allergic to strawberries,” Az mumbles into his tea, but she notes the playful spark in his eyes and resists the urge to kick him under the table with difficulty.

Instead she reaches over and takes his hand, “I’m happy for you, Azriel. For both of you. You deserve this,” she gives his hand a soft squeeze and finally manages to coax a faint smile from him.  “But why-” 

“Didn’t we tell anyone?” Azriel supplies for her. She supposes he has to find some way to claw back his composure, the best way he knows how, making sure he knows everything she does. Mostly. She nods. He shifts uncomfortably, wings rustling in agitation at his back as he shrugs. “We would have, when we were ready,” he says quietly. “We’re just...Not.” She’s never seen him so discomposed before, he’s usually the picture of articulate eloquence. But Mor...She does this to him. “Not yet, Feyre, please-” 

She gives his hand another quick squeeze, smiling, “I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, Az, I promise.” He smiles, nodding his head, and thanks her. 

They finish their tea and cake and then Feyre winnows him to Mor’s townhouse before returning herself to the House of Wind to finish up her preparations for Rhys’ birthday. 

The next day, her mate is delighted by the delicate ornament of crystal Illyrian wings she gives him, after having spent all of the day before painting them, accenting the details until they’re a near perfect replica of her mate’s own. 

Feyre notes the way Azriel’s scarred, gentle hand slides around Mor’s waist, squeezing, drawing her in close, just for a moment while no-one else is watching....But misses the way Rhys raises his glass of wine in Azriel’s direction while she’s chatting to Mor, thanking his brother for picking out the gift. Az nods and smiles. The two of them are content to keep this particular secret between themselves for the rest of their long eternities. 

[dartlekey]

Wings

Now on Ao3

Word count: 1914

A Serirei Fic featuring trans!Reigen and ace!Serizawa (implied ace!Reigen as well)

This is a gift for @cinensis because he’s been in a lot of pain lately and I wanted to cheer him up; his fallenangel!Reigen and trans!Reigen drawings were my inspiration for writing this. (This is my first time writing about a transgender character, though, so any feedback from transgender folks is greatly appreciated!)

Please enjoy!

********

The first time Serizawa saw Reigen's wings was on a Thursday morning at 7:14 am.

He was early to work - well, he usually was, but even more so today. He'd had a bad night, and thus woken up two hours earlier than usual. With fresh memories of his nightmares still lingering in the back of his head, Serizawa had thought it better to just stay up and have a calm, relaxed breakfast instead.

However, the silence in his tiny apartment had quickly descended from comforting into eerie, and so he took the earlier train to work. He had his own key now, after all. Reigen had presented it to him two months ago, with an exaggerated flourish and a smile that made Serizawa's heart skip a beat. "You're not just a valuable employee, but also a trusted friend," Reigen had told him, "so I think you've earned it."

Serizawa had blushed and spent the whole day alternating between giddy and proud.

He was too tired for that now, but the memory still brought a smile to his lips as he quietly unlocked the office door - only that he wasn't the first one there.

Outlined by the morning light pouring through the window was Reigen, standing in front of his desk with his bare back to Serizawa. His blazer was hanging across his chair, but his shirt lay crumpled on the desk; a large coffee stain and Reigen's frustrated scrubbing at it told Serizawa all he needed to know.

Well, perhaps not all, because he'd never known Reigen had a tattoo.

Large, feathered wings spanned all the  way down his back; folded as if they were growing out of his shoulder blades, the tips trailing off just above Reigen's dress pants. The detail was masterful; in the warm morning glow, they almost looked real. Serizawa wouldn't have been surprised if they'd felt fluffy under his touch.

His hands were out and reaching for the feathers before he even knew what he was doing, but his fingertips only grazed soft, warm skin. The reaction, though, was immediate: Reigen jumped so hard he bumped his knee into the table, then spun around, hands snapping up to cover his chest. "What the-"

His shoulders slumped marginally when he recognized Serizawa, but he didn't loose the guarded, almost fearful look on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, Reigen-san! I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to, to startle you - I just, I wanted to touch your wings - the tattoo, I mean... But I should have asked, I'm sorry."

Unable to meet his eyes, Serizawa stared at Reigen's hands instead, which were still loosely covering his chest - very loosely, actually, more sphere-shaped than flat, grabbing at air. But Serizawa only understood why when he saw the symmetrical scars peeking out between Reigen's fingers.

"Oh," he said with surprise.

He wasn't exactly sure what else to say, and as he looked at Reigen's face, he realized Reigen wasn't either. So he stuttered, "W-why do you have wings on your back?"

Reigen tilted his head, surveying Serizawa with thoughtful, calculating eyes, before slowly starting to speak. "Did you know that onsen's have a no tattoo rule?"

When Serizawa shook his head, Reigen elaborated, "If the tattoo is small enough, they'll let you in if you cover it with tape, but you can't go into an onsen with a big one. It's because of Yakuza gang tattoos plus a lot of history stuff I won't bore you with; in any case, the owners want to keep trouble out of their bathing houses. But it also works the other way around: getting a tattoo gives you a convenient excuse not to visit onsen's with friends or colleagues."

He paused and looked at Serizawa then, half defiant, half hesitant - and Serizawa was struck by how out of character, how caught off guard Reigen seemed. Because Reigen was never hesitant, never afraid of anything fate could throw at him. He was an unwavering marble statue, and only if you looked very carefully could you see the cracks in the stone, and glimpse at what lay beneath.

"I... Think I understand, then. Why you got the tattoo, I mean."

Reigen blinked, curious, but still cautious. "You do?"

Serizawa swallowed, knowing he was walking on a knife's edge. If he phrased his answer right, perhaps Reigen would open up a bit more. If he phrased it wrong, Reigen would not only be offended, but probably loose all respect for him, too.

"With the separate bathing areas and everything...You couldn't bathe with the men because they'd treat you as an outcast at best - and you couldn't bathe with the women because... because you're not a woman. And you never were."

Reigen simply stared at him.

And then he smiled.

It was one of his genuine smiles, too, not the one he wore for clients. Instead, it was warm and heartfelt and grateful, and it made Serizawa feel dizzy in the best of ways.

Who says he's not actually an angel, under that marble?

"Your open-mindedness does you credit, Serizawa... I - I'm glad you see it that way. See me that way. Thank you."

Serizawa shrugged, perhaps too abruptly, and looked down. "You shouldn't have to thank me for that. I... Minegishi of the Super Five, they're nonbinary. They taught me about gender dysphoria, and transphobia... They were going to make people accept them, once they were part of the ruling class."

Reigen made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. "If only it were that easy."

As Serizawa looked back up, their eyes met, and for a moment he was filled with a strange sense of regret. If Claw had won, would Reigen have been able to visit an onsen? Undisturbed, and unjudged? Perhaps they could've gone together.

But no. A non-esper and rebel, Reigen wouldn't have survived the esper uprising; and Serizawa would have become the monster he'd been afraid of all his life. He wouldn't even have known the world's softest smile...

"So. Um. Can I... touch the feathers?"

Reigen raised both eyebrows. "Why?"

Serizawa blinked, "I... I don't really know. Um. I just, want to? I'm sorry, I'm so weird." Embarrassed, he ducked his head, but Reigen just chuckled and ruffled his hair. "It's fine. I mean, it's not really a bother, I guess? Just don't expect them to feel like the real deal."

With those words, he turned around. This time Serizawa didn't overlook any details; he saw how Reigen's shoulders were narrower without the suit jacket's stiff sleeves, saw the way his waist looked thinner and his hips wider than when he was fully clothed.

And Serizawa saw nothing wrong with that. Serizawa only saw a handsome man with a silver tongue who was trying to fix the world, fake exorcism by fake exorcism.

Slowly, he lowered his hands onto Reigens back, gently touching the bottom feathers. Reigen tensed at the contact, but soon relaxed as Serizawa slowly and carefully let his fingers explore the tattoo.

Reverently, he let his hands trail upwards along the lines of ink, touching every single feather separately. It was fascinating, watching the dark strokes twirl and curve under his fingers, seeing how the feathers connected, feeling what was basically just human skin, but for some reason held an air of the supernatural.

It occured to him that touching another man like that (especially when that man was the one he'd been in love with for the last six months) should have felt sexual, but it wasn't at all. Admittedly, to Serizawa nothing had ever felt sexual before, and he'd never really wanted it to either, but in this case he thought it wasn't anything like that for Reigen as well. Intimate, yes; under normal circumstances Serizawa would never have been so bold, but tired as he was, he dared to be a lot more open with his wants - and Reigen wasn't stopping him...

As Serizawa reached his shoulder blades, Reigen sighed contentedly and said, "You know this is actually pretty nice. It's no wonder people love my massages so much... I mean, my body exorcisms."

Serizawa chuckled shakily, blushing at the praise. "This is nowhere near as good as the massages you do, Reigen-san."

"Ah, don't put yourself down like that!", Reigen responded without missing a beat, his tone light but sincere. "You have very good hand control, and you're very gentle. I bet if I let you at our regulars, they would love you just as much as I d-"

His voice suddenly trailed off, and he cleared his throat. "I mean... yeah. They'd like it."

"I... thank you," Serizawa managed, heart hammering at triple speed. Did he just...?

The office fell back into silence as Serizawa followed the feathers all the way up Reigen's shoulders, finishing with the stray outliers on his arms. In a way, it was satisfying to have touched all of them, but Serizawa also felt a sense of dissapointment. He didn't want to stop; he rarely got a chance to be close to Reigen like this, and to do something that Reigen enjoyed -

When Reigen felt the hands disappear off his back, he turned around with a casual smile, only to stop in surprise at Serizawa's closeness. He'd probably thought that Serizawa would immediately step back, timid as he was. In all honesty, Serizawa had thought so too. But...

But technically, he hadn't really touched the whole wing. In a way. Had he?

Serizawa made himself meet Reigen's gaze, then lowered his eyes to Reigen's chest, and hesitantly raised his hands to hover just over his surgical scars.

"They... They're part of your wings," he explained quietly, "to me. Because, because your wings are freedom? They're freedom, and beauty, and you. Like your scars. Do I... have your permission?"

Reigen stared up at him, eyes wide and filled with an emotion Serizawa couldn't name, and for a moment Serizawa was terrified that he'd gone too far.

Then Reigen kissed him, and any coherent thought Serizawa might have had evaporated like water on a stovetop.

Reigen tasted like espresso and cheap cigarettes, and when Serizawa ran his hands through his hair, it was strawy and rough. And it was perfect, all of it, it was Reigen, and Serizawa couldn't get enough of it, of him, of the exhilaration flooding his lungs and the butterflies in his stomach and the warmth pulsing in his veins.

"Not yet," Reigen finally murmured the answer against his lips, pulling back just a bit to get his breath back. "I'm not really comfortable with anyone touching my scars right now. But you can touch the rest of my wings anytime."

Serizawa nodded, letting out a breathy, nervous laugh. "T-that's okay. Good. Great. Wonderful. I love you. Please go out with me."

Then realized what he'd said and winced. "Sorry! I mean, um. I... you. Uh."

Reigen laughed, and kissed his cheek. "I get it. I feel the same, you know. Let's have dinner, after work. But, well, right now..." He glanced past Serizawa at the office clock, "We still have about half an hour before work starts?"

He grinned at Serizawa almost bashfully, and Serizawa's heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

"O-Oh?"

Reigen leaned closer, and added, "Do I have your permission?"

Serizawa must've been beetred by now, but he didn't really care. "T-to kiss...? Yes! Always! I think."

This time, both of them laughed - and Serizawa felt like he'd grown wings of his own.