#I keep doing that thing where I attend to all my bodily needs and then try to sleep and it doesn't work

[giantkillerjack]

Having trouble sleeping is wild cuz it'll have me doing things like taking an edible at 6:00 a.m. because I've exhausted all the other viable options to make my brain do a relax.

"Wake and bake"? Nah, I'm awake and baked. It's a subtle but important difference.

[paymechildsupport]

Teacher!Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Reader // Teacher!Sukuna HC's <3

(THIS IS NOT STUDENT X TEACHER, READER IS NOT A STUDENT!)

Personally, I think it’s an actual crime there isn’t more teacher!sukuna content out there. I’ve only ever seen one fan art of it, and ever since I’ve been scrounging around on my hands and knees to find more

So m’ gonna just do it myself 🙏 

-!! [AFAB + AMAB] READER (HC’s involving reader’s bodily autonomy have both a female and male vers. → brief smut drabble at the end)    [everyone's in on this one👏]

-!! Reader is a rather powerful sorcerer 

-!! CW: Slight possessiveness (mainly for the short smut at the end → overstimulation, dacryphilia, slight size kink(?), mention of double cocks for og form Sukuna)

-!! Veeeery slight nod to manga spoiler if you squint. If you don’t know it 99% certain you won’t pick up on it

-!! Sukuna being a bit of a softy for his SO

3k+ words

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Awhile (around a good few centuries) ago, Ryomen Sukuna came to the conclusion that no, this was in fact not the way he wanted to live his life. He decided to put everything behind him; the bloodshed, the death, the massacres, and cannibalisms— (okay maybe that stayed the same)— all the things that essentially made his staple as the King of Curses. He’s a changed curse, he swears it. Honestly? Human food? Not that bad. Kinda worth changing his world view for 

With a changed work ethic, and a changed heart, Ryomen Sukuna made the conscious decision to become a teacher, — specifically a teacher in sorcery

—————-

Ryomen Sukuna works at Jujutsu Tech,-- the infamous King of Curses, who predominantly spends most of his days helping ungrateful brats obtain the necessary skills to kill his kind

→”No, you thick-skinned brat, you’re doing it all wrong!”

    “I’m sorry, Sukuna-sensei! I’m trying,--.. I really am! Could you maybe go over it one more time–”

             “No! You’re going to die all alone as your friends are tortured mercilessly!”

“How could you say that…” 🥺 

Following the fateful passing of Yuji Itadori’s grandpa, the poor kid awakened as a sorcerer with a rather nasty supply of cursed energy; a complete abnormality with an aura suspiciously like that of a certain Ryomen Sukuna… 

→ “The little brat is not living with me” 

“Awh, c’mon Sukuna-!! The kid’s a ticking time bomb to disaster, he needs help controlling his cursed energy, and who better to help than the amazing King of Curses himself!” 

“Shut up, Satoru Gojo.” 

“Ohoho~... looks like someone isn’t happy to become a single mother~~” 

“What-!? Single moth– fool, you yourself are a single mother” 

“...oh, yeah. Hehe… 😚”

“I hate it here…😒”  

Now, with the additional burden of personally attending to Yuji Itadori, there was only one thing keeping Ryomen Sukuna from completely imploding: 

You. His partner, his lover, his spouse, his anchor,-- the only source of light in his miserable, cursed life, – the sole person keeping him from reverting back to his old, murderous ways. 

Meeting a few years back, the ancient curse could’ve sworn the world got a dozen shades lighter the second his eyes landed on your form in the Tokyo crowd. Where everyone was actively moving away from his looming, intimidating hulk of a body, you looked at him with eyes void of the fear reflected off so many others. 

You approached him with interest, recognizing his unmistakable aura for that of the King of Curses, – and, to his utmost shock, – you proceeded to have a perfectly normal, civilized conversation with him. Never once did you look at him like you would a monster. Every time he’d get lost in those eyes of yours, never once did he find anything short of pure love and affection. It was sickeningly sweet. 

There on a mission, you introduced yourself as a fellow Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

Ryomen Sukuna could’ve sworn he’d heard your name before: rather infamous with the higher-ups, you were a well-respected sorcerer. That only aided to his immense confusion: why would a sorcerer of such high esteem and all around regard even remotely think talking to him, the King of Curses, was a good idea? 

Absolutely flabbergasted and entranced from your first encounter, Ryomen Sukuna was practically completely at your mercy. It took very little for you to simply haul him over your shoulder and take him wherever; he’d soon become akin to a lost puppy with you. 

Ryomen Sukuna is absolutely down-horrendous with his emotions. Hah, communication? Never heard of her. 

He’s never felt this deep for anyone before, and it terrifies him to no end. You terrify him to no end,-- the amount of power you have over him could be almost comical. 

At the start, he flat out avoided you altogether. Anytime he’d see you on campus he’d immediately start in the opposite direction. Anytime you’d attempt to strike up a conversation something would come up,-- he’d have to go somewhere, or the brats had gotten themselves in trouble again. And when Satoru Gojo found out about his little “crush”...  oh boy, the teasing was lethal.

It wasn’t long before he craved your touch, and Ryomen Sukuna started to enter withdrawal from your presence. You were brutal, the poison continuously being pumped into his veins, – which was extra ironic, considering he was after all the King of Poisons, – how the actual hell did he end up in such a position? What have you done to him? 

Man, he was cooked. 

With a lot of time, and a heck of a lot of patience, did the curse finally allow himself to reveal more of himself to you. 

It’s never been easy, – even after you two were married did Ryomen Sukuna still suck absolute ass at communicating his wants. 

He craved your attention, your gaze, your approval. You were the drug that he simply couldn’t get enough of. 

He’s not good with words, – in the past everything was just handed to him, – he had no clue how to actually work for someone’s affection. 

Please be patient with him, – he’s trying, he really is 🥺. No matter how much he denies it, no matter how much he complains he hates being dependent on someone, no matter how much he claims how meaningless love is, you both know deep down these feelings of deep admiration and affection aren’t one sided. Sometimes, that fact alone can get you through even his most frustrating of times. He pushes you away because he feels guilty, but almost immediately does he regret his actions and desire your presence more than anything. The things you do to him 

He lost his original form centuries ago, abandoning it after his near fatal confrontation with the sorcerers of the Heian Era. Gravely wounded, he absolved to staying hidden, laying low in the shadows. Sometimes he wished he still had that form, – still had his four arms, his two faces– he felt stronger, prettier in that body. Despite how much you told him how beautiful his current, two-armed form was, he wonders if you would’ve liked his original form– what it could do, how it could please your body. (But most of all he missed his two massive cocks to shove deep inside you–)

Ryomen Sukuna is very insecure about his image as the feared “King of Curses”. He’d be seen as weak, like he’d gone soft, – if anyone found out about you. That did little to deter you from showering him with your affections though <3 Even if he struggled to receive such affections–:

“What the actual hell do you think you’re doing–” 

“What? Am I not allowed to visit my darling husband at his job?” 

“No- ..! Who exactly do you think you are, you can’t just waltz into wherever to embarrass me–” You were in an empty classroom in what would be the normal time for lunch. The students would be out eating, so it was only you and him.

“Is that really all you think I do? Embarrass you?” You fought to conceal the pained expression threatening to bubble up to the surface. 

“Yes! Do you know what they’ll think of me if they see me with you? He snaps angrily

“Are you.. Ashamed of me?” You blink 

“What-? No, of course not” His face contorts into a scowl 

“Then why can’t people see me with you?!” 

“That’s not what I meant–” He hisses 

“Yeah?” you retort, “then, what did you mean by that?” 

“I–....”  Ryomen Sukuna only ever seems to find himself short of words with you

Nodding curtly, “I’ll take my leave then” you make your way to the door 

“Wait-” you pause, he hated seeing you upset. It made him feel hopeless, it made him feel weak. “tsk, nevermind. Leave then” 

Huffing, you step out the door. Your second foot never even leaves the threshold before you’re lifted up by a pair of strong arms. 

“Gah-! Ryomen– what the hell?!” 

“Shut up.” the curse growls, placing you down on the nearest desk with a surprising gentleness, “just shut up.” He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck

You smile, accustomed to his brazenness, knowing this was him succumbing to his own affections for you.

“I’ll be quieter next time.” 

“Mmm… don’t be”

“Oh?” you quirk an eyebrow, “are you no longer embarrassed of being seen with me?” 

“No,” he grumbles, “if any pathetic worm dares to utter something against me, I’ll cleave their head off” 

Chuckling, “charming”

“I’ll do it for you too” that part he whispers, so low you almost miss it. Almost. 

“Awh, you’d slaughter anyone putting dirt on my name? And they say romance is dead 🥰” 

“Shut the hell up.” 

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

Sukuna Ryomen would have a special ringer set for you in his phone so whenever you’d text him he’d know it was you 

He never responds to anyone’s texts,-- anyone’s that’s not yours. 

The second he hears that notification that man is immediately scrolling. It took him years to figure out how to work a telephone,-- and he still kinda sucks at it. So it takes him a while to respond, – he’s just a slow typer :) 

He’ll be in the middle of sparring with Yuji for his training when he’ll hear your notification and swiftly whip out his phone, – still in the middle of fighting. Poor Yuji will still be sweating his ass off trying his very diddly darn hardest to land a singular punch and he won't even glance up from his phone 😭

It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, – the guy could be in the middle of fighting a Special Grade and he’d start texting you about what he wants for dinner while simultaneously throwing slashes 😟

Not big on PDA, – but alone? Man, you can’t get the bastard off you, – blud’s clingier than a kitten 😭he just really likes being nice and snuggled up in your arms 

Alone, will often call you, – regardless of gender, – doll, (whore), sweetheart (if you’re not being a pain in the ass), – possessive lil’ shit and likes to add ‘my’ in front of any pet name, just to enforce the fact that you’re his. 

Calls you karasu –(Japanese word for raven) 

Sukuna Ryomen is incredibly picky with what he eats, (unless it’s your ass–)     – he needs his meals done in a very specific way, otherwise he’s just not eating. It needs to be your meals too. If bro forgets to bring lunch or you don’t have time to make one for him he just starves. He’s an absolute menace when hangry– super grumpy. None of the students can stand him hungry, – and he refuses to defile his delicate palette with fast food of all horrible things

You got some of those cute cookie cutters for sandwiches and gave him little star sandwiches one day for his lunch. Mans was over the fucking moon. His ass refuses to ever eat another sandwich again unless its cut into cute lil’ shapes 🤏🥺

Be careful if you ever decide to visit him at work after a certain amount of times, cuz he will make you useful: using you as a sparring partner, giving you chores, making an example out of you to the other students. 

You’re strong enough to hold your own against the King of Curses in a quick spar, – which really only means you won’t get immediately eviscerated upon throwing hands. 

You’re strong, but nowhere near as strong as Ryomen Sukuna. 

He’d only give you a cocky smirk, telling you to hurry up and lock in. You stare at the expecting faces of Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – who you naturally have grown a rather close bond to, being around each other so often. He gives you a reassuring thumbs up, smiling with an expectant glamor. You gulp, glancing back at your husband who has the most shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, you were cooked. 

You manage to successfully dodge at least two strong attacks before being thrown onto your ass, the wind knocked out of you. Huffing, you scramble up, irritation giving you newfound determination. The King only raises an eyebrow at you. 

You explode into a sprint, dashing up behind him, seemingly catching him off-guard. You lean in real close to his ear, whispering in a sultry tone: 

“Your shoelace is untied” 

“What, I’m not even wearing shoelaces–” and he gets thrown into the nearest tree, snapping it in half. 

“Hahah!!” 

“No way, Sukuna just got his ass handed to him!” Nobara exclaims, grinning

“That was so cool!” gushes Yuji, sending a wave of pride flowing through you at his excitement. 

It is short lived, as your husband comes up behind you, glaring with a burning passion in his eyes. 

“You totally beat him up, you sent him flying–” Megumi slaps a hand to Yuji’s mouth, his rambling getting choked off with a “mmph-!” 

His smile is laced with dynamite as Sukuna dismisses the students early. Confused, but mostly relieved, the trio scurry away, Nobara and Yuji shouting cheery goodbyes over their shoulders. 

Only you were close enough to see the raging lust in the King of Curse’s many eyes. His gaze rakes over your body, tensed in a fight or flight state, predatory. You swallow, hard, chuckling nervously, “Heheheh…”  

Oh man, you were so horribly, undoubtedly cooked. 

(short smut begins below line)

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[AFAB vers.]

Sukuna is brutal, hips smashing against yours, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, slamming himself particularly hard into your leaking heat, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the teacher’s desk– his desk–  in his empty classroom, – only being held by Sukuna’s deadly grip. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  he punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, a look of pure bliss on your face. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his long, cursed life. 

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

[AMAB vers.]

Sukuna is cruel, hips smashing against your ass, large hands gripping so hard large bruises start to form on your hips. He fucks you, bent over the desk, – his desk, in his empty classroom,-- and shaking like a pathetic mutt. You cry out, sobbing, pleading with him to slow the fuck down. Sukuna only clicks his tongue, condescension dripping from his tone, 

“Where’s all that confidence and strength from before, eh?” 

“h..*hic*..huh-?” 

“Tsk,” he grunts, large hand closing around your swollen, throbbing cock. Your eyes widen in horror as he begins to jerk you off at a grueling pace, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain

“S..sukuna-!! P- *hic* please..-! I-..I can’t— I can’t– OHH~” You keel over, knees giving in from underneath you. You stay pressed firmly against the desk only held by Sukuna’s torso. “I-It *hic*.. It– HURTS..- *hic*” 

“You can,...  and. you. will.”  He punctuates each syllable with another unforgivable thrust, syncing with a violent pump to your cock, limpand emptied out. “You seemed confident enough you.. *pant* take me in a..- *pant* .. in a fight– fuck–” Warm cum swells, coating your insides white. 

Your eyes roll violently to the back of your head, thighs squeezing desperately against him, instinctively trying to milk him for all he’s got, – despite the excess cum already spilling from your abused hole, kept in only by Sukuna’s massive cock. You're so drained, already milked dry, a few meager squirts of cum dripping from your cock. Was this the fourth or the fifth time..? 

You lost count ages ago, numbers losing all sense of value along with everything else in your head, Sukuna absolutely fucking your goddamn brains out. Dumbed by his cock, you could only limply gaze dreamily through lidded eyes, the look of utter worship on your face enough for him to harden once again inside of you. 

Sukuna grins down at your fucked out face, admiring you as his masterpiece. You looked so pretty impaled on his cock. Pulling your head back by your hair, he smashes his lips onto yours in a sloppy kiss. You truly were the best thing to come of his tedious, damned life. 

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

Sukuna brain-rot goes hard-!! He's such a goofy lil' guy, I love him :3

[nothorses]

How can I advocate for disabled students to get a better education than I did, as someone who doesn't plan to going into education professionally or having kids? I've had experiences ranging from amazing to miserable in public school, special ed, and private parochial schools alike. One of the main problems in all of those schools was how little I was listened to as a kid when I knew what my needs were. I've looked back at my IEPs (which were rarely followed) and the majority of it was common sense bodily autonomy stuff that I take for granted as an adult. When I look up materials on special education and advocacy it's all directed at parents who don't necessarily have the time or energy or their children's best interest in mind. I'd love to read more on special education theory and best practices as well as learning what sort of regulatory bodies there even are for special education programs.

This is for sure not my area of expertise, but:

I would say that "special education" is going to often be a lot less fruitful than you want it to be. My experience with- and what I have heard from others about- SpEd is that professionals in the field tend to be abled/neurotypical people who have... a certain kind of mindset when it comes to disabled students that you are probably already familiar with.

The class I took on SpEd for undergrad was specifically oriented around the legal requirements for accommodation, and the class itself was set up to be more hostile to disabled students than any of my regular education classes were (one of the other students emailed the prof about it & got her to change her late work policy for that reason, too).

If you want to read into theory, I would really suggest you look into "disability studies" rather than special ed specifically. That tends to be oriented more towards disability justice, and centers disabled voices, a lot more than SpEd- which is often more about how abled teachers "deal with" disabled students. Disability Studies will also very often engage in education specifically, but even outside of that, the theory is pretty relevant.

And if you just want some stuff to read ASAP, I def invite you to search "disability" in my ed library folder, and just look at whatever pops out to you!

As far as more concrete action goes, I'll be honest in that I do not know a lot of ways to interact with education from outside the system. What does come to mind for me is:

Look into, and keep tabs on, legislation regarding disabled students and education more broadly. I don't know where you're at, but from a US perspective: city, county, state, and even federal- but you will likely have more of an impact on a smaller scale.

Figure out if meetings are happening, or if comments are being taken, and get people you know to do those with you if you can.

Call relevant representatives & let them know how you want them to vote. Pretend you're one of their voters already, even if you're not.

Look into local schools and districts; they may have ways to get involved listed on their websites, and they may also have events/meetings/conferences that you can attend and make yourself heard at. Bring people to those, too! (The school I student-taught at has had changes shot down bc people- not even parents of students there- showed up at meetings to vote against them).

Talk to people! Make connections, form relationships, etc.- bring these things into conversation with them. Even if they aren't people who have a direct impact on decisions being made, you can influence the culture of your community & potentially make a much broader, much longer-lasting change than a single vote would make.

I would love more ideas in the notes of this post, if anyone has any!

[vampynights]

welcome to my blog<3!

my names vampy and this is my silly little corner of the internet where i write self indulgent and requested fanfiction for people who'd rather live in their heads (like me!) ^_^

i’m currently interested in writing fan fiction mainly for Rory Culkin’s character Clyde in the film Electrick Children ! This will of course change once I get over my current hyper fixation on the movie. Other than that, i’m also looking to write fics for Ryan Ross, Gerard Way, Larry Johnson from Sally Face, Sal Fisher, Ashley Campbell, and maybe some Arcane and Criminal Minds characters. These are not the only fandoms i’ll write for, they’re just the only ones i can think of right now. If you really wanna request a specific character/person just send them to me and i’ll see if i’ve ever seen the show or have an interest in writing for them. i also almost only write for female or nonbinary readers, though may be open to write for male readers as well. I'm just more comfortable writing for females seeing as i am one!

i am open to writing smut however i do need to remind that i am 17 years old, so if you’re above the age of like..19 and are uncomfortable seeing a 17 year old write smut, please just look away. i do have limits to what i will write. no heavy gore, no rape and incest, i will not indulge in any kinks involving bodily fluids or childlike behavior, etc (i’ll probably make a rules page once i figure out all of my limits and such.)

i will absolutely write fluff, angst, hurt with comfort, and maybe some hurt with no comfort. we’ll see! most things i post will be oneshots or headcannons seeing as i suck at writing full fledged fics and keeping up with them.

i’ll try to write as much as i can, however i do suffer from a lot of writers block and am also a high school senior with extracurriculars and community service to attend to. if i can’t get to a certain request in a certain amount of time, i ask that you please be patient and understanding<3

that’s all for now! masterlist and rules coming soon!

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Name: wren hummel Designation: switch Age: 24 Birthdate: december 1, 1998 Faceclaim: victoria pedretti Orientation: bisexual, biromantic (leans more toward women) Kinks: daddy kink, romance, bondage, hot wax, ice, group sex, spanking, voyerism, orgasim denial, choking, hair pulling, roleplay, begging, strap on, biting/scratching Anti-Kinks: scat, vore/gore, any bodily fluids, permanent marking, physical injury/disfiguring, pet play, little/child/age play, extreme play, cages

Key Points: 

- was previously attending a different school to learn the ways of the bdsm lifestyle, but has transferred to stonewall prep at the recommendation of kurt

- she’s naturally an anxious person, suffers from panic attacks, especially when she’s around too big of a crowd or overwhelmed by too much noise

- she is a more private person, she doesn’t necessarily get lost in the crowd but she does prefer to keep to herself and people watch. it makes her a bit of a mystery.

- she’s an athlete which takes up a lot of her time between basketball and softball she values her physique and working out. 

BIO 

growing up in the hummel household wren was the opposite of her brother, kurt. she was a tomboy and the athlete that her father had always been excited to have. she took to sports right away and valued the necessary traits it took to be good at what she did: teamwork, hardwork, discipline and motivated. she was constantly busy jumping between sports schedules but she loved it. but the one thing she was always jealous of was her brother’s ability to march to the beat of his own drum and never care what anyone else had to say. wren always faltered when it came to peer pressure and cared far too much about what people thought of her. 

after high school wren was pushed to go out of state to a school for doms/swtiches/subs, her parents thinking it was a better idea for her to attend a school that had a good focus on their athletic programs as well as their studies. but after a shoulder injury kept her out of play for a year the hummels decided to bring her back to lima to be closer to them as she rehabbed her shoulder. she’s actually pretty happy to be in a school with her brother for the first time and is excited for all the new opportunities here.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?  - “i like to think it’s pretty accurate. in a lot of ways i shift between being a sub and being a dom. i think the more i explore the more i’ll be able to find where i’m truly meant to be.”

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it? - “my parents have always been believers in the system and subsequently so have i. if it keeps everyone safe and prevents everything from falling into a mess then i would rather follow the system than rebel against it.”

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?   - “if i can’t play any kind of sport professionally then i really. hope i am able to coach. the joy i find in sports is something that i would love to be able to help instill in others. i’ve had enough bad coaches to know what a good coach looks like and i would love to be that for someone else.”

How do you feel about authority? - “when it comes to authority i think when it’s done correctly then it’s the kind of thing that a lot of people need. but when there are those that take advantage of their authority or toe the line with it, i begin to lose respect for them. in order for this society to work as a whole we need to follow the structure laid out for us and not overstep, no matter which mark you are.”

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

; good enough

© @pedropcl

lee bodecker x fem!reader.

summary. your father invited you to his birthday party and things ended badly.

words. about 2.3k.

warnings, tags. nsfw, +18!!! drunk state, language, unprotected sex, daddy!kink, very brief degradation, mention of bodily fluids, very brief mention of violence. and i think that's all.

a / n. first time writing for this man that has me obsessed, so i hope y'all like it! none of my writings contains reader's body descriptions to be inclusive. if you find something out of place, please send me a message and i'll change it.

You didn't want to be there, but it was your father's birthday and you couldn't miss it. More than thirty minutes had passed since the last time you saw your husband standing in a corner of the large living room, sipping from his glass of whisky and judging every guest around in silence. Lee hated your parents, your family, their friends. And you didn't blame him. Your family never accepted him, always repeating that he wasn't good enough for you, nor your interests. Except for your mom. She wasn't the only one who didn't treat him like dirt.

Once that you escaped from your father's arms, showing you as a trophy and trying to set you up on a date with one of his best friend's sons, you stepped out of the house to the back garden. It was cold outside, having to close your jacket around your chest as you closed both arms over it. Following the footprints on the grass, you reached the improvised parking where different cars were stationed. The smoke coming from nowhere called your attention, glimpsing Lee sitting on the hood of his black Ford. Cigarette in his left hand and bottle of whisky in his right.

You doubted for a second to interrupt his moment of peace for the first time in two weeks. Two long weeks where you barely had spent time together. He started holding over his shifts because, apparently, there was too much paperwork to attend. You couldn't help but think that he was raving mad about you, or about something you did unconsciously. But the real problem was that your husband never used to talk about his feelings or what was going in his mind.

“I think you've drunk enough”. You uttered watching him raise the bottle to his lips.

Lee chuckled ironically, shaking his head. “Lucky me I don' care”.

Frowning and with your mouth pressed closed, you walked towards his position to face him. He had never talked to you like that, but he was being honest, shrugging his shoulders to point it out a little more.

“I do. I do care”.

“Don' worry, darlin'. I ain't gonna shame you in front of your family”. He scoffed bitterly, finally sipping from his drink. “Watya' doin' here anyway? Party's indoors”.

“You're here tho”.

“And who fuckin' cares, uh? You were having so much fun inside with that… pretty boy who works in Wall Street”. Your husband mocked taking a drag from his cigarette. “We should divorce, don' you think? So you coulda go with him to the big city, and don' be stuck in… How d'your father call it? Knockemshit. Stuck with a… fat sheriff of a shitty town”.

Lee didn't notice the tears blurring your gaze till he raised his face. The bitter smile curving his lips suddenly disappeared, putting his pale blue eyes away from you because it was too painful for him to watch you cry. Your husband gulped hardly, kissing his teeth as he threw the cigar somewhere on the ground. You couldn't believe he really wanted to divorce you, wrapping your heart with a suffocating sorrow that barely let you breathe. He was your life and, after three years together, he seemed to not give a shit about it sometimes.

“I ain' like them”. You whispered sniffing.

“Tha' doesn' change the fact that you don' deserve a man like me. Your father is right. 'M a fucking loser compared to anyone inside his damn house”.

You loved Lee with all your heart, soul, mind, body. He was everything you want in your existence —your life. So damn obsessed with his touch, his kisses, his smell of wind and leather, his smile, that beautiful pair of pale blue eyes. You refused to believe he was talking seriously.

“You should be there. I— Imma go home, tell your mo—”.

Before your husband could finish his goodbye, you interrupted him by slapping his face. He didn't see that coming and you'd never imagine yourself hitting him. But you needed it, seeming the only way to stop him from abandoning you there. He kept his face away from you, trying to comprehend what had just happened. His drunkenness suddenly disappeared, pressing his inner cheek with the tip of his tongue whilst rubbing his hand over the reddened skin. You were so mad right now that you could set on fire the whole world.

And you were about to do it a second time when Lee caught your wrist in the air, painfully gripping his fingers around it to push you closer —chest against chest. Then, he raised his index finger. “Don' you fuckin' dare to try it again, y'hear me?”

You were furiously breathing, but not filling your lungs with air in reality, keeping your eyes on the blue ones that used to steal your heart every single day. It was like a contest of dominance you knew he always won. Any time.

Your husband didn't give you the chance to say sorry, slamming his lips on yours. A moan died in his tongue when it invaded your cavity while releasing your arm to fly his rough big hands to your ass, almost grabbing it all with his long fingers. Your digits went to the lapels of his leather jacket, not lasting too much there till finishing on the back of his head.

Lee was hungry for you, just like you were for him after two long weeks barely touching each other. Your husband devoured, sucked, and bit your lips, urging you to turn around enough to push you on top of the hood of his car. His hands pulled up the skirt of your dress, wanting to reach the waistband of your panties, receiving the great surprise that you weren't wearing any.

“You little dirty girl… Don' wantin' your Sheriff to lose time, uh?” He grunted with such an animal and eager tone, as he took care of the belt and the zip of his pants.

“I need you”. You sobbed against his lips, feeling his hands maneuvering between your legs.

At least, you were fast enough to cover your mouth with a hand when Lee rammed his rock dick into your soaked cunt, drowning in your palm a loud cry of pure satisfaction for being filled by your husband. Back and forth, he hit your body once and once, impaling you against the Ford still being furious by the way your father and friends treated him as if it was your fault. Lee was mad, really mad, digging his fingers in your hips to pin you on place and don't move, continuing fucking you harder and harder —challenging you to not be able to be quiet and make everybody heard how good he used to made you feel.

“Goddammit… you're so damn ti— tight, baby doll… So tight fo— for your daddy, ain' ya?”

“Yes… Yes, daddy”. You cried hiding your face into the crook of his neck.

His strong scent filling your lungs caused you to roll your eyes white, letting your soul leave your body while his cock attacked fiercely your pussy with no mercy. Your vocals were in sync with the screeching noise the car produced in every thrust straight to your guts. The pace was insane, intense than never before, and more pleasurable than you could imagine in your life.

Lee was aware how much you loved him, that you felt devotion for him. But sometimes —sometimes like those— he couldn't help but think he could lose you as soon as you realized who he was in reality. You didn't care. You weren't blind. You knew about his dirty laundry, his past, his sister (...). And you still wanted him with all your heart and body.

“Fu— Fuck, gonna put a… baby inside you”. He growled, wrapping his right around your throat to urge you to face him. “Y'want it, uh? D'you want dad— daddy to put a baby in that… beautiful belly?”

“Yes… please, Lee”. You whined with teary eyes, being too much pleasure for your body to handle. “Please, daddy… I wa— want you to… get me pre— pregnant with your child”.

Your husband's lips curved up in a petty smirk, pulling out from your dripping cunt, causing you to sob in disappointment. Lee managed to put you down on your shaky feet to turn you and force you to bend over the hood of his car. Ass upped, legs spread. He only took a second to stare at your glistening and abused folds in your arousal, prior to impaling you again. With a hand on your lower back and the other tangled in your head, your husband obligated you to arch your back as he continued banging your anatomy once and again.

At this point, you had forgotten your name, where you are, and if someone could hear how you cried pleased any time he crashed against your g-spot. It was a mix of pleasure and pain as Lee wasn't having any kind of compassion with your cunt, clenching unconsciously around his hard length. He knew then how close you were to cumming for him —because of him—, increasing the pace while you tried to find a place to put your hands on and find some balance to stay in place. As soon as the hand tangled in your hair landed back to your throat, you gripped five fingers around his wrist, enjoying the brief lack of air because of it.

“C'mon, my swe— sweet whore… Y'wanna cum for daddy, don't ya?”

His raspy and wrecked voice fell into your ear like an angelic melody, not being able to hold your moans anymore within your mouth. The knot inside your lower belly was bigger and bigger and suffocating, feeling how it could explode at any time. Lee shoved his cock non-stopping producing a sloppy obscene sound when his pelvis crashed against your ass, along the chink of his belt against the back of your thigh.

“Daddy… Daddy…” You called him while the tears started to fall again through your cheeks, this time, of absolute satisfaction.

You couldn't help but bite your lip strongly till the metallic taste of blood covered your tongue, letting yourself go as the knot bursted within your belly. The orgasm threw you above the edge with your husband's palm covering your mouth to not be heard or it would be really awkward to be caught by all the guests, even if he didn't care. He wouldn't mind showing that pretty boy from New York that nobody could fuck his little dirty girl better than himself. Oh, how funny it would be to see his face while your husband was ramming his cock into your abused pussy, cumming inside your tight walls, digging his teeth in your neck to mark his territory.

Lee came with a sensual and passionate hoarse gasp causing you goosebumps bristling your skin, burying himself balls deep to hold it inside the mix of your juices filling up your center. It felt like being in Heaven, although you weren't sure if you could walk after such an intense quickly, feeling your walls burning as his dick still twitching and stretching your cunt.

Your husband wasn't a man of kisses after sex, that's why he surprised you when tilted your face to his and pressed his lips on yours, panting, not caring about the lack of breath. It wasn't a lustful kiss either, more than a tender and fondly one, tasting your mouth, playing with your tongue.

Pulling out his semi-erection, Lee helped you to clean yourself with a tissue before using it to clean your arousal on him and toss it to the ground. As he put on his pants, you fixed your dress and your hair, turning around.

“You meant it?” You dared to ask, still having sorrow covering your voice. “Gettin' divorced… You mean it?”

“What?” He inquired, squinting confusedly until he realized what you were talking about. He chuckled holding your chin with two fingers. “You married me, darlin'. There's no other way you're gonna spend your life but with me. Willingly or not, you hear me?”

Lee raised both eyebrows very sure of his word before you nodded your head with a fleeting smile crossing your lips.

“Can we go home now…?”

“'S that what you want?”

You nodded your head a second time, while your husband placed his arms around you with hidden possessiveness to guide you back to your childhood's house. And of course, your father was enraged when you told him that you were leaving with your husband. He yelled at you and nobody tried to stop him till the moment he had the brilliant idea of pretending to lay a hand on you.

Lee punched him. Lee broke his nose. Lee made your father fall to the floor between the pretty boy's arms. And Lee never felt better in his whole damn life.

“Don't you ever come back to this house, if you leave now with this… bastard”.

“She doesn' need you”. Your husband cooed wrapping your neck with an arm, leaning slightly to borrow your purse. “Ma'am, my pleasure a see ya' again. The beef was delicious. G'night”.

You were yet processing what just happened, ashamed of the desire for your husband himself awakened inside you after watching him hitting your father. Lee could be a total asshole sometimes but one thing was undeniable: he loved you with all his heart and soul, he was obsessed with you since the very first time his oceanic eyes contemplated you walking down the street, smelling a bucket of roses you bought for yourself.

Never again you knew anything about your family. Not even when your son, called after your husband, was born. But you weren't sad. As Lee said, you didn't need them. You had your own family to take care of.

feedback is appreciated. if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment so i can know your opinion. reblogs are needed.

permanent tag list. @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame124 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell

[stanknotstark]

A Little Pain (And A Lil Glory)

i have to thank @high-functioning-lokipath​ for helping me with all my questions about migraines. Thank you SO much, you’re amazing 💜 Anyways! I made the reader go through all four stages of migraines (prodrome, aura, attack, and post-drome!)

Summary: REQUEST. Loki helps with your migraine.

PRODROME

You open the fridge and lightly hum as you search through the contents. Loki walks in and sees you which in turn makes him change his decision to make coffee and to instead come up to your back and hug you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“What is my beloved searching for?” He asks, his lips finding your neck and leaving pecks there. You sigh and tilt your head so he may continue kissing with easier access. He notices the movement is strained, as if your neck is a bit stiff.

“I’m kind of craving moon berries.” 

Loki heeds no thought to the craving and pulls from you. “Moon berries? I don’t think Thor brought many back the last time he made a trip to Asgard.” Loki finishes the sentence with a small hum. He gently moves you aside and waves his hand in front of the refrigerator. You gasp when a secret shelf appears from nowhere. 

Loki chuckles at your excitement as he opens the newly appeared drawer. “I do not share everything we bring back and if you dare tell a soul-”

You hop on your toes with excitement coursing through your body and smile at Loki. “You’ll kill me, I know!” 

Loki sputters but laughs. “No, I was going to say I will punish you. I could never kill you, my love.” 

You let out a small, embarrassed oh but gasp and hop up to kiss Loki when he pulls two moon berries from the drawer and gives them to you. 

AURA

Next, Loki becomes suspicious when you’re talking to him but keep glancing away to a specific spot in the room just over his shoulder. 

“Darling?” He questions when you glance away once more. Your eyes are quick to snap back to him at his question. 

“Sorry, I keep seeing something flashing over there, Tony must have left a tablet where the sun could shine on it or something.” You wave off Loki’s concern. 

When you’re both done talking and you have returned to your floor Loki still sits there. He gets up and makes his way to the area you had been looking at. Nothing is there but a bare ottoman. Loki realizes what is occurring because he had read up on migraines so he could better attend to yours that had grown from rare to often occurring. 

Loki wants to wave this off with doubt just because he really hopes you don’t have an oncoming migraine. He hates when you’re in pain. 

Loki can’t deny the evidence anymore because the next day you claim you must have slept on your arm wrong, it has pins and needles all day. 

ATTACK

You groan and shift further under the blankets of your bed when the lights switch on. 

“Darling, it’s two in the afternoon, you need to get up and at least eat something.” Loki chides softly as he walks through your room and comes to rest on the edge of your bed. 

When Loki slowly lifts the covers to see you, you look at him with squinty eyes, your hand coming up to shield them and practically hiss.

“Migraine.” Is all you supply Loki. Loki nods with understanding and climbs under the covers with you. When he drops the covers you both look at each other in the dark lighting. 

You wince at a particular throb on the right side of your head. It feels as though someone has hit you over the head with a rock. The pain starts from the base of your skull and climbs up towards your eye. Loki brings his hands up, between the both of you, and rests his fingers on each of your temples. You close your eyes and he begins kneading with moderate pressure. You sigh and melt into his calloused hands. 

“Have you taken medicine yet?” Loki whispers into the enclosed space. You whisper out a no to which Loki responds with a disappointed sound. 

You nearly whimper when Loki pulls his fingers from your temple. You can’t stop the way your body leans forward into his receding hands. Loki hushes at you then he’s waving his hands in the enclosed space, the blankets wavering with the movement, and a bottle of menstrual medicine appears.  

You let out a strained smile. “Do you keep menstrual medicine on you at all times?” 

“Perhaps,” Loki opens the bottle with ease and tilts the bottle. Two pills fall into his hand and he hands them to you. All these movements come off as awkward considering you’re under the covers. “You have been having more migraines recently, and I read these really help migraines...do you need water?” Loki asks you with a small frown on his face. 

“No.” You grab the pills and swallow them with practiced movements. 

“Well, I pride myself in being prepared for everything.” Loki continues as he watches you settle back down. He quickly magics the bottle away and looks at you again from his side.

“Always ten steps ahead…” You mutter as you close your eyes again. 

“Precisely.” Loki replies satisfied as he brings his fingers to your temple and begins massaging again. This time his fingers stray from your temples and knead through your hair. 

“Which side is it?” He asks softly. 

“Right.”

Loki moves his hands, one supporting the left side of your head and the other kneading into the right side. It feels amazing, so much so that you let out a relieved groan. “Thanks.” You murmur. 

Loki lets his hands work on you for a minute before he is pulling away again. “I apologize. I feel like I might actually suffocate in this heat.” Loki chuckles out. He waves his hand and you see your room’s lights flash off. Loki yanks the covers from over your heads and takes in a deep breath. “Norns.” He huffs out causing you to lightly laugh but it’s cut off when you wince and bring your hands up to hold your head.

Loki is quick to turn back to you and rests his hands over yours on your head. His face is etched with concern and bewilderment. “I will never understand why you will not just let me use magic to remedy your migraines.” 

“That’s cheating.” You spout out petulantly. You open your eyes in time to see Loki rolling his. You giggle. “I need to learn to deal with them because what if I become dependent on your magic and then one day you’re not there?” 

Loki gives a slight raise of his eyebrows, as if silently admitting you might be right. “Have you ever considered that I’ll always be there for you?” 

You can feel a dopey smile split across your lips. “Don’t make promises like that Loki.”

Loki frowns. “Like what?”

“Promises you can’t possibly keep.” You explain. 

Loki lets out a huff of breath that sounds close to a sigh then looks at you with endearment. “Darling, I promise to always be there for you.”

You look at Loki with wide, doe eyes. “For all time?”

Loki smiles. “Always.” 

You lay there with Loki for some time, time you don’t keep track of. The medicine you took earlier is not helping a lot or at least isn’t working as well probably because you don’t have food in your stomach. The nausea you felt earlier is growing stronger. Your legs begin shaking and your mouth begins producing more spit than necessary. You sit up with a swallow. Loki is quick to sit up with you, his hand fanning across your lower back. Before he can ask what’s going on you’re hopping out of the bed and rushing to the bathroom. 

Loki hears the retching begin and sighs. He had really hoped it wouldn’t get bad enough to make you physically ill. He untangles himself from the bedding and enters the bathroom. You’re quick to throw a hand up and shake your head. A bad decision because you gasp and grab your head. 

“Don’t look at me.” You plead. 

Loki considers leaving you be but it’s not even a choice. He comes behind you and kneels. He grabs your hair and holds it back so you don’t get sick in it. 

“I feel as if we are past the point of being disgusted by each other considering we’ve ingested each other's bodily fluids before.” 

Loki smiles a little when you let out a shocked laugh. “You make giving you head sound so clinical-” You gag as you speak and hurl into the toilet. 

Loki brings his free hand up to rub across your back as you heave. 

“You will have to take more medicine considering you most likely just vomited it all up.” Loki mutters as an afterthought.

When you tell Loki you’re fine and not going to get sick anymore he helps you stand, slowly, and hands you your toothbrush with toothpaste already on it. 

As you brush your teeth he moves through the bathroom. He grabs a hand towel and wets it, wringing it out so it isn’t dripping, merely damp. 

You both move back to the bed. He hands you two more pills that you swallow quickly, then you lay down. Before he lays down with you he uses a blue hand to make the damp towel cold. He lays it across your forehead and smiles when you let out a grateful moan. 

Your eyes are closed so when your hand reaches out for him it reaches aimlessly. He is quick to grab your hand and kiss it then he lays down next to you. 

“You need to eat something.” Loki speaks into the silent room as he stares up at the ceiling in thought about what you need and how to take care of you.

“I just threw up everything though.” You whisper with whining resistance.

“I know. Meaning you have nothing on your stomach. Taking medicine without food could cause things to get worse.” Loki explains in a gentle voice. He had done plenty of research for you. 

“Can we just start with drinking something? My stomach is still queasy.” 

Loki hums thoughtfully. “I’ll make some tea, perhaps the caffeine may help.” 

You pat Loki’s arm. “You’re a lifesaver, babe.” 

Loki flushes at your term of endearment. Loki is usually the one to use endearments, not you. He clears his throat and sits up. “I shall be but a moment.” 

POST-DROME

Loki finally gets you to eat some soup and bread before you lay back down and go to sleep. 

The next day you sit up and hold your breath. The pain is gone. You quickly turn to Loki who is blinking his eyes open groggily. You wince when there is slight pain at your fast movement. It’s minor compared to what was going on yesterday though. 

Loki slowly sits up and you flush when the sheets fall down his bare chest and pool in his lap. “Feeling better?” He asks in a sleep roughened croak. His hand comes up to trail up your arm and land on your shoulder where he rubs it in a soothing circle. He rubs the sleep from his eyes with his other hand. 

“Loads better. I just feel some pain if I turn my head too fast.” 

Loki hums thoughtfully then yawns. He turns and checks the time from the clock on the nightstand. “It is seven A.M. sweetheart, do you have somewhere to be?” Loki looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

You shake your head and throw yourself into Loki who lets out a grunt at the impact before he falls back into the bed with you now on top of him. He squeezes you in a hug then lets his hands rub over your back. You both lay there with your eyes closed, enjoying the embrace, breathing in each other’s scent. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You murmur, already half asleep. 

“Of course. Anything for my beloved.” Loki says, kissing your forehead. 

“I know you really love me ‘cuz you watched me puke ‘n still look at me like I’m the prettiest woman in the world.” You slur out making Loki chuckle. 

“Go to sleep, darling.” Loki mutters. The vibrations of his words emitting from his chest make you snuggle into him more and sigh. 

“Love me, right?” You ask in a drowsy tone. 

“I do.” Loki says. He snickers when you pinch his arm. “I love you.” He whispers. 

You let out a happy noise then let sleep take you for a few more hours, wrapped in Loki’s warm embrace.

Tag list: @justfangirlthingies​ @biancablack2474​ @creeping156tin​ @ajeff855​ @high-functioning-lokipath  

[five-rivers]

Loved chapter 4

Written for Dannymay 2021 Day 3: Portal, even though the connection is sort of tenuous.

.

Bad things happened when Vlad came to Amity Park. For that matter, bad things happened wherever Vlad was. It was part of what made Vlad Vlad. Some part of his otherness, some twist of the shadow-fabric he was made of that left rot and ruin wherever his hem brushed. Of course, Vlad was never affected by this misfortune. In fact, he seemed to suck the luck out of everyone around him. Like a vampire.

Along with sanity. But that was a given for the others, even partial others, like Vlad. Or Danny.

But Vlad didn’t even try to hide or ameliorate the effects he had on people, didn’t try to keep them safe, to make their lives shine like the precious lights they were.

(Danny drummed his fingers on his chest and wondered, if, perhaps, it would feel less empty if Clockwork let him become a jewel box.)

But that was the way Vlad was, and Danny felt him enter Amity Park like nails on a chalkboard. His skin started to itch. His teeth hurt. Pressure pulsed in his head like waves of heat coming off asphalt. Being human, being real, was too tight, too heavy. It would be so easy to slip into the cool waters of the Dream and cut through them to wherever Vlad was.

No. He couldn’t. As shown time and time again, that would just exacerbate things. No matter what Vlad did, it would be worse if they fought, especially if there was anyone there to see it. Like what had happened with Jazz…

Danny was beyond lucky he’d been able to snap her out of whatever Vlad had done to her, but she still was quite right. The Vultures had actually apologized on Vlad’s behalf, after that.

(And wasn’t that strange, standing in the Dream on ground covered by bones and feathers, the Vultures on a dead tree, speaking as one. A thing of terror, apologizing for their ward. For pain suffered through Love. For lines crossed.)

Still. He had better… supervise Vlad, for a lack of a better word. Make sure he wasn’t getting up to anything. He’d go as a human – as himself.

He sighed and splayed his hands out on the table.

“Something wrong?” asked Sam, who had been making a complex sigil out of her fries and ketchup.

“Vlad’s in town,” said Danny. “I—”

The doors to the Nasty Burger were thrown open with a bang as Jazz came running in. She ran halfway through the store, to weak protests from the employee behind the counter, and skidded to a stop in front of their table.

“Vlad’s here,” he said.

“You saw him?” asked Danny, concerned. “Did he try—”

“No,” said Jazz. “I can just—It’s like he’s under my skin, and I—” She made a sound of frustration and gripped both sides of her head with clawed hands.

“Hey,” said Danny, gently, grasping her wrists. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Okay,” said Jazz, breathing deeply. “Alright. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“It’s okay,” said Danny. He looked back to his friends. “Anyway, I’m going to go see what he wants, okay?”

“I’m coming with you,” said Sam, standing.

“Me too,” said Tucker. “Sort of. Halfway.”

“You really shouldn’t,” said Danny. “You know what happens when we get together.”

“Which is why we want to back you up,” said Sam. “As long as he stays physical, there’s stuff we can do.”

Unless Danny was prepared to do something incredibly inadvisable, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her. “Okay,” he said. “Just… be careful. If it looks like it’s going to turn into a fight, you need to leave.” He didn’t want them to get anymore spiritually messed up than they already were.

“We know, we know, you give us the spiel every time,” said Sam.

Yes, and Sam ignored it every other time. Danny shook his head. “Alright, let’s—”

Danny was promptly interrupted yet again, this time by his parents rushing in wearing… He could loosely call them clothes.

“It’s retro night, baby!” shouted Jack.

It was not retro night. There was no such thing as retro night at the Nasty Burger.

“I’ll take care of them,” said Jazz.

“Thanks,” muttered Danny, sliding out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go out the back.”

The alley behind the Nasty Burger was fetid in a way that made Danny’s shadow lift from the pavement and float on the air. Something that inhabited rats skittered in the corners at Danny’s presence and ran for a storm drain. He breathed shallowly.

“Which way?” prompted Tucker.

“He’s actually coming this way,” said Danny, frowning, debating facing him in this alley, just to see the disgust that would surely paint itself on Vlad’s face, paper-thin mask that it was.

Reality rippled, the surface tension that kept the Dream from bleeding in snapping. A miasma rose from the ground. Vlad stumbled into the alley, clutching at his face, which was melting. No, transforming. No, stretching. No, layering over itself a in dozen sickening ways, all the masks Vlad wore flickering over whatever truth he had all at once.

“Help me,” he grated. His words felt sick, diseased.

“Guys,” said Danny, fighting back the urge to vomit, “run.”

“No!” shrieked Vlad. “Help me!”

And sanity fractured like glass.

.

Whatever Danny’s parents had done to stabilize Vlad had worked, to a degree. It hadn’t fixed the underlying problem, which Danny could still feel slinking through the Dream. It also didn’t fix whatever he’d done to Sam and Tucker, although it had kept it from progressing further.

Danny took a slow, angry breath and ran a mental count of the lives stored inside his chest. They were there, all of them. Whatever happened to Sam and Tucker, they wouldn’t die.

But Danny knew there were fates worse than death.

His fingernails left half moon impressions on his palms as he clenched his fists. The Dream roiled with his fury, the force of it enough to keep Vlad’s diseased thoughts away.

“Daniel,” croaked Vlad. “Cure me.”

“That’s what Mom and Dad are trying to do.”

“Find a cure for me,” said Vlad, as if he hadn’t heard Danny at all, “and you’ll find a cure for your precious little friends.”

Danny stilled. “You did this on purpose.”

Vlad laughed. “Of course, I did, my dear boy. What value is a simple human mind compared to those such as we?”

Any rage Danny had felt up to this moment paled in comparison. The mirror over the sink cracked down the middle, never to show a true physical reflection again. He hated—

A concerned tug at Danny’s throat jolted him from his thoughts. Clockwork. Clockwork would know what to do. He turned, and without a second glance at Vlad, strode bodily into the Dream.

.

It took Danny even less time than usual to find Clockwork, and, when he did, he immediately found himself at Clockwork’s center, deep within the castle that was his metaphor. Dozens of Chains were fixed to Danny’s collar, each of them completely taut, holding him perfectly immobile, the embrace of a relieved but panicking parent. Clockwork’s emotions, too vast for Danny to fully comprehend, were transmitted directly through those chains, microscopic vibrations raising gooseflesh on Danny’s skin. A wordless noise both distressed and pleased wound its way from Danny’s throat, continuing to echo long after he’d run out of the breath to maintain it.

Clockwork’s avatar cupped Danny’s face in its hands, long fingers almost completely encircling his head. There was more of Clockwork in it that there usually was.

“Clockwork…?” asked Danny, weakly, confused and overwhelmed by the sudden flood of affection.

Poor little one, whispered the avatar, this is what happens when matters are not properly attended to. The Vultures should know better, should take care of him properly… It pressed its forehead to Danny’s, startling a squeak from him.

Danny, reflexively, brought his hands up to clutch at the avatar’s robes.

My poor child. What are they thinking, letting him run around so ill, so that he might infect other children?

Clockwork saw Vlad as a child, too. Not surprising, considering how ancient Clockwork must be, but good to know.

That emotion! It was only a shadow, and even so-!

“Emotion?”

Hatred, hissed Clockwork’s avatar.

The collar around Danny’s neck constricted, a tighter, more Loving, more comforting, hug. Danny gasped, although breathing here was psychological rather than physiological. The cloth of the avatar’s robes began to wind up Danny’s arms.

Even the pale, human shadow of it is not something you should experience, my child.

Danny didn’t like being that angry, but—

Even the concept of it is too much, too heavy. You should not have to bear it. I should not have overlooked it. The avatar’s hands moved to the back of Danny’s head, pressing his face against its shoulder. It must hurt you so,murmured the avatar, carding fingers through Danny’s hair. Fear not. I will excise it. All of it, even the idea of it shall not touch you, shall not sully your thoughts.

The avatar stepped away.

“Wait!” shouted Danny, panicking.

Not being able to hate? Danny had mixed feelings about that, but he doubted he’d be able to talk Clockwork out of it, not with how damaging Hate could be. In the end, it wouldn’t be that much of a loss. Not being able to understand that it existed? Not being aware of hate at all? Being unable to understand that, sometimes, people would go out of their way to hurt one another?

That was dangerous. That would render him unable to even begin to comprehend vast swathes of human history and humanity.

“If I don’t know what it is,” said Danny, “if I don’t know that it exists, how can I protect myself against it?”

A gust of wind blew through Clockwork’s sepulchral hall like the sigh of a giant. It is my duty to protect you, my child.

The sheer possessiveness of the words lingered on Danny’s skin. He wanted to lean into them but held his imaginary breath.

But very well.

Danny let himself relax, slightly, even as the avatar walked to somewhere he couldn’t see, its silent footsteps giving him no clue as to where it was. With only the constant, regular hum and tick of Clockwork’s gears to stimulate him, it was hard for Danny to stay vigilant. He found himself drifting, his thoughts wandering.

Did his hatred of Vlad cause him pain, as Clockwork said? What was it going to be like, to not be able to hate at all, rather than just not being able to Hate? Would he still be angry at Vlad? He hoped so. The man deserved it.

Two points of frigid cold touched the back of his head, contracted into a single point, and pulled. Danny felt something within him come free, and he sagged as much as the chains would allow him.

The avatar walked back into view, and Danny recoiled from the thing he was carrying, clasped in a long, silver pair of tweezers. “Is that,” started Danny, before he swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Was that in me?”

Yes, said Clockwork’s avatar, lowering it into a small, jeweled box. Danny felt relieved as soon as the lid closed on it and he was no longer forced to look at it. At the same time… Fear not, said the avatar. I could never destroy something of you. It will be remade into something more useful.

Danny nodded as much as he could and shuddered. He felt… dirty. Unclean. Just remembering what he’d felt, what he’d thought… It left a deep sense of wrongness.

Come, said Clockwork. I have just the thing for that. You are due for a bath. A cleansing, inside and out.

The metaphor of the chains fell away, leaving just the one, usual, slack one. Danny knew Clockwork could call them back at any time, that, in truth, they had not gone anywhere at all.

“What about Vlad?” he asked, twisting his hands around the hem of his shirt. “And my friends? Can you help them? Please.”

He felt Clockwork examine him appraisingly.

Perhaps the bath can wait for another day.

.

The mirror was a portal, tall and wide as a door, glassy surface gleaming with otherworldly light. The edges were crimped, filigreed, flared. Beyond the reflection, Danny could just make out the suggestion of movement.

It is not real, said the avatar, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, but a might-have-been.

“But I can find a way to fix things in there?”

The avatar did not answer. A prickling feeling rose up inside Danny, settling in his stomach. Somehow, this felt similar to when he’d eaten the mirror with the bad future.

It is,confirmed the avatar, briefly nuzzling Danny.

“Why?” asked Danny, just a little horrified.

Is it not satisfying to complete two tasks at once? I told you, back then, that our next task would be to remove those presents that seek to exclude you.

Danny didn’t understand.

You will. Clockwork’s avatar paused, as if thinking. This is what the Vultures should have done for young Vladimir, although they would have accomplished it differently.

“Oh,” said Danny, trying to wrap his head around that.

Clockwork’s avatar nudged him forward. Follow the chain when you are ready to come home.

.

Danny wasn’t connected to anyone in this might-have-been world. It was odd, watching every eye slide off him as if he wasn’t even there. If he wanted to interact with someone directly, he’d have to put a lot of force of will into it.

It was strange. Other than that, everything here seemed perfectly real. Not imaginary at all. The sun shone. People spoke to one another. The grass crunched under his feet.

The University of Wisconsin-Madison lay before him in all its questionable glory.

He’d have to find Vlad and his parents. They had rented a small lab space for their experiments with the Dream and research into the others.

Normally, he’d follow his connection to them to find them, or the disturbance Vlad made in the dream, but neither of those things existed, now. Not yet. Danny didn’t exist yet.

He could just wander, try to seek out questionable lab space, but the university’s campus was large. Normally, he’d ask for directions, but…

Yeah, the no one being able to see or hear him thing really didn’t allow for that.

But there was one other thing he could try to do, one other thing he could try to sense. Their experiments. They should send waves across and through the Dream.

He let his eyes drift closed and walked blind across campus. When he opened them, he was in a lab, watching his parents and Vlad working on a kind of magic circle, inscribed with runes.

A portal, intended to let humans directly access the Dream. A portal that had created Vlad, all because he leaned too close, watched too closely, seen too much, became something else, changed.

Something like anger stirred under his skin. After this, his parents had continued to experiment, continued to try to reach the Dream, to create a weapon against the others, and in doing so both doomed Danny himself and Amity Park by making what amounted to a highway for the others to come to the real world.

But they hadn’t intended to do that, he knew. They’d been trying as best as they could to fix things. Had been trying to defend the world the best they knew, portal or no portal. And speaking of the portal… If others could damage human sanity, if Danny, small and weak and almost-human as he was, could damage human sanity, then how much more could a direct link to the Dream do? Discounting, of course, that normal dreams could lead to the Dream… That connection was more tenuous. Filtered.

His anger was a distraction from what was really bothering him.

These people, they looked like his parents. They were his parents. But… they weren’t. There was no attachment there. Nothing. It was like looking at empty shells. No Love.

It was distressing.

He watched, waiting, making note of the symbols and the placement of the ritual objects and the technological enhancements. There had to be something here that would help explain why Vlad was having such a hard time, while Danny had transitioned to his present existence without much problem.

He leaned over his not-mother’s calculations, then his not-father’s, made note of the differences. Looked at the fire, the knife, and the carved cylinders. Some of them didn’t feel quite right. One of them had been nudged out of alignment by a soda can put down by not-Jack, shifting the circle, making it bigger. Could that be something?

Vlad leaned over to examine the circle, and, at the same time, not-Jack pushed a button on the tape player, which started chanting. Danny could feel the hole boring into reality before the first syllable was finished. They’d made the portal both too well and too poorly.

Danny reached for Vlad and pulled him back, out of the way of the opening portal.

.

Danny may have made a mistake.

He’d saved Vlad from becoming other. In doing so, he’d changed things, altered this entire make-believe world. The way the story was progressing was no longer the same as his own. Which meant that it might be useless for collecting clues for fixing Vlad, Sam, and Tucker. Mostly Sam and Tucker.

(He’d help Vlad if it wouldn’t hurt his friends, he didn’t hate the man, not anymore, didn’t desire his suffering. But his friends were, of course, his main concern.)

But he couldn’t just leave. He’d made note of all the flaws in the portal, but that wasn’t in any way conclusive, wasn’t a guarantee.

And, in the meantime, his not-parents and not-Vlad had continued working on the portal, which they hadn’t shut down, unlike in the proper timeline. Or had it been disrupted by Vlad? He didn’t remember the exact sequence of events. His parents had never been clear.

But the portal was on, it was working, and it was wrong. Everything was wrong. The portal was in a class of things that should-not-be.

Just like Danny, in this world. He… With the portal, and the way things were going, he shouldn’t exist here, the butterfly effect would keep him from being born, and he was becoming painfully aware of that fact. Literally painfully. It was starting to hurt, being here, a throb in the back of his head.

Or was that the portal?

Either way…

(He couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was breaking things just by being here. Everything was going wrong. So many little accidents.)

(Or was that the portal?)

He kept watching.

It had been… a while, now. It was easy to lose track of time like this, with no one to talk to. Days? Maybe? He’d been drifting, which should have been troubling.

Maybe he should go back. Cut losses.

(Besides, it was disturbing watching his parents flirting with each other. And Vlad. Even if they weren’t really themselves.)

Then his parents wheeled in a… What was that? He walked closer. This was about the same size around as the pillars that had done this to him.

Danny would never forget those, after all.

Something hummed inside him, picking up a kind of resonance between the active portal and the pillar.

The ground fragmented beneath his feet.

Reality followed soon after.

.

He found himself nowhere with nothing. Only nowhere and nothing.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.

What had he done? He’d, he’d destroyed a world, he’d—

There was a gentle, but insistent tug on his chain. He followed it home.

.

He clung to Clockwork’s avatar, gasping, as if he was the only real thing in the world. His emotions were too much, too great, uncontained and roiling. They battered him like a stormy sea.

It’s alright, it’s alright, comforted the avatar. It wasn’t real, and now it never will be. All those worlds where you would not be. All gone.

No. No. No. Horror buzzed in his brain. He couldn’t have destroyed so much.

Never were,continued the avatar, Clockwork apparently oblivious. All disproven. Paradox. You could not be and yet you were. You were in the places you were not. So, now you exist, in all these places, in everywhere that could be, and always will. It stroked Danny, brushing away tears. Only one more to go, until you never were not, my beloved child, until you always were mine, as you were meant to be.

Danny keened into the robes of Clockwork’s avatar, distraught. Wind ruffled his hair.

Considering the point in time in which you were placed, said the avatar, Vladimir will be well again.

Danny looked up, hopeful for the first time in hours.

Mostly. The underlying cause has been removed. You should bring the rest to your… progenitors. They are at least competent in this area.

Danny nodded vigorously and attempted to extract himself from the avatar’s grasp. He was unsuccessful, although the avatar did adjust its grip on him.

You have had a difficult day, it observed. It then presented Danny with a cookie.

Confused, Danny took it.

A gift, said the avatar, Clockwork having evidently returned to his normal laconic mode.

“What’s it made of?” asked Danny, suspicious.

Love. What else?

.

“How do you feel?” asked Danny.

“Weird,” said Sam. “But okay.”

“What was it like?”

Sam shrugged. “It was like…” She waved her hand. “Watching a thousand different movies of my life, but they were all wrong. Like if they were crappy biopics done fifty years after I died or something.”

“Speak for yourself,” grunted Tucker. “I just got a lot of sand. So, so much sand. And sun. Do I have a sunburn?”

“No?” said Danny. “You look fine.”

“Ugh, I forgot you were white. You don’t know what sunburns look like.”

“I’d argue,” said Sam, “but you’re not wrong.” She fell back against her pillows. “I just want to sleep.”

“Same,” said Tucker. “I never want to see the sun again.”

“We’ll make a goth of you yet,” joked Sam, tossing a pillow at him.

“Okay,” said Danny, backing away. “Should I get the lights?”

“You don’t mind?”

“Sleep well,” he said. He hoped they would.

(Because he would not.)

[drabbles-mc]

Adrenaline Rush

Kozik x OFC

Request by Anon: Hulloo there, may I get a sort of all sons x female reader, but mainly Kozik x female reader, where the clubhouse gets hit, and one of the guys gets hit - and they need something to stop the blood flow, so reader takes off her shirt to reveal her sports bra and ripped abs so that the wound can be attended while they wait for Tara, and the boys are like - damn, and when reader goes to get another shirt, Kozik follows and some form of smut ensues?

Warnings: language, blood, injuries, unprotected sex, brief mentions of bodily fluids

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I didn’t do a reader insert for this because I try not to describe and particular kind of body-type for the sake of inclusivity. I know I never really made a point to mention that explicitly, but yea. So I just switched it up and changed it to an OFC, hope that’s okay! This was also my first time writing for Kozik, so hopefully it came out alright! Enjoy xo

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SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @adela-topaz-caelon @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff​ (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

The clubhouse was nothing but chaos. It had never been a place associated with calm, but with everything that the MC had been getting themselves into lately it had been a bit more of a hotbed than usual. It all came to a head when a rival MC rolled up and opened fire on the clubhouse one night.

The gunshots were deafening, and bullets were flying everywhere. Before she even fully registered what was happening, she was getting shoved to the floor, pinned underneath someone else’s body in an attempt to keep her safe. Her head smacked off the hardwood and everything went fuzzy for a minute, but there was so much going on that she wasn’t sure that she would’ve been able to keep up with it anyhow.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. It could’ve been seconds or hours that she was trapped underneath the weight of another body. The first thing that felt clear to her, though, was the loss of the weight on top of her when they rolled off. They crouched down next to her in the silence that followed the bullets, shaking her shoulder.

“Alli? Hey, Alessia,” they lightly tapped the side of her face, “You with me?”

She knew the voice sounded familiar but her brain still felt too scrambled to place it as she forced herself up, nodding her head as she tried to regain her bearings, “I’m here.”

She shut her eyes tight for a few moments before reopening them, hoping that it would make things come in a little clearer. She was rewarded with being able to see who it was that had tackled her to the ground, most likely saving her life in the process. One end of his mouth kicked up in a smile when she looked at him, glad that she was conscious and seemingly unscathed, but she could still see the concern pooling in his eyes.

“You okay?”

She nodded, “I’m good. Fine. You?”

“I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t break you.”

He stood up and held his hand out and pulled her up to her feet. She stumbled a step and collided with his chest. In a calmer moment they might’ve let it linger, but there was too much to think about. She stepped back and shook it off as she looked around the clubhouse.

“We whole?” she glanced over at Kozik.

“I don’t—”

“No!” Jax’s voice cut through the rest of the dull noise of the clubhouse.

Alessia and Kozik glanced at each other for a moment before quickly making their way over to the chapel. They both looked at Jax as they walked, seeing the way that he was clinging to his own arm, face contorted in pain. He saw their looks of concern and shook his head, nodding towards the table. They pushed their through the small crowd of people and were met with the sigh of Juice laying on the table, blood gushing from his leg.

“You call Tara?” Alessia glanced back over at Jax.

He nodded, “She’s on her way.”

“Fuck,” Juice groaned, writhing in pain on the table.

“Stop moving,” Alessia’s voice was firm as she tried to get her thoughts in order.

She was no Tara—she didn’t have any kind of medical degree or professional training. But she’d been around the MC long enough to pick up some practical first aid. She’d MacGyver’d her way through more than a few injuries for herself and for the members of the club. She just had to figure out how to keep him alive until Tara could get there to do the heavy lifting. He was losing blood fast and she was just hoping that the bullet didn’t hit an artery.

“Shit,” she pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, “Alright.”

She peeled her tank top off over her head and folded it into a long, thin rectangle, her fingers moving quickly and methodically. All of her focus was on the task at hand. She didn’t even realize that she’d drawn the attention of more than a few hungry, wandering eyes as she stood there in her sports bra and jeans.

She glanced over at Kozik, “Belt.”

He’d been too busy staring at her, allowing his eyes to rake over her chest and abs to hear what she’d said, “Wh-what?”

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the buckle, “Your belt. Now. Please.”

Her voice had so much authority to it that he instantly started undoing his belt without questioning it. He had no idea what she would need it for, but at that point he really didn’t care. He slid it out of the loops of his jeans and handed it over to her. She laid her shirt over the wound, pressing down hard on it to give it some pressure. Juice tensed up and cursed loudly. Her apology was passive as she slid the belt around his thigh.

“It’s gonna get worse before it gets better,” she warned him as she got ready to pull the belt tight, “But it’s better than bleeding out in church, yea?”

Juice nodded, already clenching his fists in anticipation, “Yea. Just…just do it.”

They each took a deep breath. Her eyes were on his legs and his eyes were on her. She pulled on the leather strap, tightening it as best she could around his thigh. Juice clenched his jaw tight and did his best to stifle the groan of pain that was fighting to escape past his lips. There were a few moments of utter silence as they all waited to see if her makeshift solution was going to staunch the blood flow at all, let alone enough to buy enough time for Tara to come in and do damage control.

Her split-second decision-making paid off. The blood stopped flowing. It wasn’t going to be a long-term fix, but she figured that Tara couldn’t be far at this point. She looked over the rest of his body, making sure that nothing else needed to be taken care of. He looked a little pale, and extremely tired.

“Need anything else?” she asked.

Juice shook his head, resting it back on the table, “Just a fucking doctor.”

She chuckled, “We’re working on it,” she sighed, running her hands down her face, “You owe me a shirt and I’m about to collect,” she smiled, “Consider it your medical bill.”

“Done,” despite the pain shooting through him, Juice managed a laugh, “Top drawer in my dorm.”

“You’re a gem, Juicy,” she called back as she walked out of chapel towards the dorms.

The men all watched her walk away. It took him a few moments to snap back to reality, but once he did Kozik was hot on her heels. He caught up to her in a few long strides as she was about to push Juice’s door open. She heard him behind her but didn’t say anything, mind still reeling from everything the day had already entailed.

“That was, um, impressive,” he said as you started to walk over to Juice’s dresser.

“We do what we gotta do, right?”

“Right.”

She turned around to face him once she had found a shirt that she wanted to take as her own. Surprise was written all over her face when she saw the way that Kozik was looking at her. She felt the heat beginning to rise in her face, but she tried not to let it show that his stare was getting to her. Despite the fact that he was looking at her with nothing but admiration, Alessia found herself wanting to quickly pull her fresh shirt down over her head to cover herself up.

When she went to lift it up, though, he stepped in to stop her. He pushed the shirt down, taking it in his own hands, “Don’t.”

She watched him as he discarded the shirt, tossing it over onto Juice’s bed. Once his hands were free, they instantly found their way to her sides, running all over her exposed skin as he pulled her closer to him. She wanted to blame the fact that she wasn’t playing hard to get on the adrenaline of the day, and the fact that he had definitely saved her life only a few minutes before. But she knew in the back of her mind that this had been building for a while. There was a reason that he jumped to make sure she was okay before anyone else.

Before she could overthink it, she put her hands on the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He immediately pushed and leaned into her, hands roaming all over her, grabbing whatever he could hold onto. She bit down on his bottom lip and he let out a low moan as his mouth continued to move against hers. Her hands snaked up into his hair and gave it a light tug.

He quickly wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. With ease he carried her over towards the bed, not taking his lips off of hers.

Just as he was about to lay her down, she pulled away from him, “In here?”

“What?” he smirked, “Not like he’s going to be using it anytime soon.”

She laughed, “C’mon, he almost died today. Don’t need to disrespect his room, too.”

“You saved his life! Least he could do to repay you,” he laughed as he kissed along her neck.

She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. She shook her head slightly but didn’t protest any further as she let him gently lay her down on the bed. He made quick work of pulling off her shoes and jeans. She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face as he climbed onto the bed, positioning himself over her. His lips crashed back into hers as his hands ran down the toned lines of her stomach, making her shiver.

Alessia reached down and undid the button and zipper on his pants. She could feel the rumble inside his chest as he tried to contain the laugh building up inside him. He pulled his lips off of hers to push his pants down the rest of the way, a smirk etched into his expression. He peeled his shirt off as well and threw it to the floor.

She hooked her legs around his waist, pulling him as close as he would let her. He kissed her, biting down onto her bottom lip as he slowly slid inside her. She tried to stifle her moans but it wasn’t any use. Her legs shook and trembled and she knew that it was no longer just from the adrenaline of the day.

His fingertips dug into her thighs as he thrusted into her. She tilted her head back, letting out a moan, and he took that moment to bite down on the soft, sensitive skin of her neck. She tangled her fingers into his hair and held him there, not wanting to give up the sensation.

“Fuck,” she breathed, “Don’t stop.”

Stopping was the absolute last thing on his mind. He felt the way that her nails set into his back, the way that her body tensed around him, and it only encouraged him to keep going. He increased his pace and let out a low moan as her nails raked down his back. She bit down onto his shoulder, attempting to muffle her screams as she came. His nails dug into her sides as he felt him bite down onto him. It sent a brief jolt of pain through him but he loved it. He cursed quietly under his breath as he approached his own release, pulling out of her right before he did so.

He collapsed next to her on the bed, looking over at her as they both attempted to catch their breath. She glanced over at him and when her eyes caught his, they both couldn’t help but to break into laughter. She ran her hands down her face, wiping away the sweat. Kozik carefully got up and went to grab his boxers and jeans.

“Let me get something to for you to clean yourself up with,” he chuckled as he glanced around the room.

“Time for you to give up your shirt for the cause, Kozik,” she laughed as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“What? No, Alli, c’mon, please,” he laughed as he picked his shirt up off the floor, “Don’t do this.”

She held her hand out, “Hand it over. Time to pay your dues,” she laughed as he threw the shirt at her, “Besides, you’ve got other clothes here anyway. What’s the big deal?”

She threw it back at him after she had wiped herself off, shaking her head with a smile as he dodged it, carefully choosing where to pick it up off the ground from. She set about getting her underwear and jeans back on, and finally pulling on the shirt that she had decided to borrow from Juice.

The two of them stood in the middle of Juice’s room. Alessia was redoing her pony tail, and Kozik couldn’t help but to stand there and watch with admiration. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye and made a point to not comment on it.

“Y’know,” she looked at herself in the mirror with a chuckle, “I might be onto something here. I look good in Juice’s clothes.”

Kozik laughed and shook his head, “You look better than he does, for sure.”

The two of them slowly made their way out of the room. They looked at each other for a moment, each with a small smile on their face, before heading off in different directions. Alessia made her way back towards the chapel to see if there was anything else to be done, or if Tara had shown up yet, and Kozik headed back towards his own space to get himself a fresh shirt. As she walked away, she could feel his fingers trace lightly along her lower back for a moment before she had stepped out of reach. She shook her head slightly and tried to contain her smile as she headed back into the chaos.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 3

Masterlist  /  Playlist for reading in this chapter, the reader is fighting an infection and making a furry friend.

CW for phsyical injury, bodily fluids, extreme pain, loss of consciousness and being pinned down by someone (this sounds terrible but I promise it gets more fluffy halfway through!)

This beautiful screencap of Valka was shared in our discord and I don’t know who took it, please let me know if you know the artist so I can credit them and check out their other work!

Healing

You woke up crying, the pain in your cheek threatening to split your head in half. Your cheek was wet from your tears and sticky from the wound that had been seeping all night. Eda stirred next to you and you both stared at each other in utter horror. William’s daughter looked like a corpse. Her cheeks and eyes had sunken deep into her skull and her face was a greyish color. You probably didn’t look any better, if her shock was any indication. 

The cell opened and you got your first round of water and bread for the day. The man feeding you gave you a pitiful look but did not say anything about your state. There was still alcohol on his breath and he looked annoyed about his task, probably wishing he was still in bed like the other warriors. You did not dare to ask for help.

You drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few hours as the last few other prisoners were taken to Randvi and questioned about their knowledge and alliances. There was an aura of hopelessness in your cell. No one was speaking, everyone was staring at their feet and flinching at any loud noise. Eda ate a piece of bread and got terrible stomach cramps but managed to keep it down. At least one good thing. 

People were going in and out of the longhouse, you could hear horses outside, swords clashing in the distance - probably training - and a few servants sweeping the big hall and cleaning up last night’s mess. Suddenly something small and white moved into your field of vision. Were you dreaming again? You were sure you had a fever by now.

But this was real, Eda saw it too. She had straightened up next to you, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. A scrawny white cat was cautiously circling the cell and apparently scouring for leftovers. You quickly skimmed the ground for anything you could offer the little animal. And yes, there was a big crumb right next to your heel. You carefully pushed it closer to you with your foot and managed to get it all the way into your hands’ reach. 

Quietly whispering and purring to the cat, you tried to lure her closer. And sure enough, the little white lady slowly came closer to your hands. You stayed completely still and held out the crumb on your open palm. Carefully, the cat stuck its paw through the bars and pulled the crumb back toward her. She devoured it right away. Softly meowing, she looked up at you, asking for more. You smiled at the sweet animal, a silver lining on this terrible day in this terrible cell.

“Birna! Where are you, you little rascal?” a familiar raspy voice called out, this time in the sweetest singsong, making you smile even more. The cat did not move from its spot next to you, instead meowing back louder to call to her mistress. You slowly stretched out your hands and she watched them curiously, beginning to purr as you drew your fingertips over her soft fur. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Eivor rounding the corner, wearing nothing but a thick grey knee-length tunic and fur boots. She froze in her tracks when she saw the scene before her. You quickly pulled your hands back, thinking she was angry at you for petting the cat. She suddenly rushed to the guard that had fallen asleep on his chair, slapping his chest with the back of her hand and ripping the keys to your cell from his grasp. He jerked awake, but Eivor had already opened the door and squatted down next to you. 

“Fuck the gods.” She sounded astonished and extremely worried at the same time. “Damn you, Dag, how did you not see this? Her wound has festered!” 

Eivor’s voice got louder and angrier with every word. She placed a hand on your forehead. 

“She’s burning up! I’m taking her to Valka.” With one swift motion, she had unbound your hands and picked you up. You hung in her arms, too weak to move. As she carried you out of the pen, she shot Dag a warning look and hissed: “We’ll talk about this later.”

The tall warrior almost ran out of the longhouse, whispering to you to stay with her and that she would take you to the best healer she knew.

“Don’t you worry, little bird. You just have to fight and recover. I will take care of you from now on.”

You arrived at a smaller hut and entered the dimly lit room that smelled of burned incense and freshly cut wood. A small, black-haired woman with a beautiful headdress and impressive facial tattoos leaped to her feet when she saw you come in. 

“Oh Eivor, what have you brought me now? Lay her down here.” She motioned to her bed, a simple wooden plank with a sack of straw and a number of furs. Eivor laid you down gently, kneeling next to you and squeezing your hand. 

“She was struck by her master two days ago. It must have gotten this bad last night.”

Valka crouched down and inspected your tender flesh. You fainted several times as she prodded at the wound but Eivor always called you back to her. The healer was now assembling herbs, burning something, and heating up water in a kettle over her fireplace. She ground up some sort of root and a few herbs and threw the mixture into the boiling water. Then she took a clean cloth and ordered Eivor to place the hot kettle on a wooden plate next to the bed. 

She dipped the cloth into the hot, sour-smelling brew that stung in your eyes and nose, then she pressed it on your cheek. It felt like she had stabbed a dagger into your skull, the pain ringing in your ears and making you see nothing but burning white. You were too exhausted to scream, fading in and out of consciousness. Instead, your body started violently shaking and Valka yelled at Eivor to pin you down before dunking the cloth into the scalding hot liquid and repeating the procedure again and again. Thankfully, you lost consciousness completely after the third time. The last thing you felt was Eivor’s big, warm hands on your upper arms and her knee on your hip, holding you down as you convulsed in pain.

-

When you woke up for the second time today, you were still lying on Valka’s bed. You wore a long linen tunic and the women seemed to have washed you, freeing you from the sweat and dirt that had accumulated in the last days. The room smelled better than before, the kettle was over the fire again and the small woman stirred dried flowers and other herbs into the water. Eivor was sitting next to you and wringing out another piece of cloth over a bucket. You braced yourself for more pain, but the water was cool and the blonde gently wiped your forehead and healthy cheek, your neck, and upper chest, humming softly to herself. She dampened the towel anew and folded it to lay it on your forehead. It was only now she realized you were awake. 

“Little bird.” She laid a hand on your cheek. “The worst is over.”

Valka came over with a mug and put it down next to you. She gave you an exhausted but encouraging smile.

“I apologize for hurting you this much. The infection was spreading across your face, I needed to draw it out. You will need at least a week to heal.”

You raised a hand to your face, but Eivor stopped you from touching yourself.

“We will put on a bandage later. Now there is just a salve,” Valka explained, “and you will have to drink this daily to help your body fight from the inside and give you strength.” 

She handed you the clay jug and you carefully raised it to your lips, taking a small sip of the concoction. It tasted sweet and earthy, immediately spreading warmth throughout your body and giving you the strength to fully open your eyes again. The wolf-kissed smiled at you. 

“I will leave you in Valka’s care for now. Soon I will take you to my hut and look after you there,” she promised. “I need to go and attend to important business, but I will bring you both supper later.” She took your hand again and softly rubbed her thumb over your knuckles, then she raised it to her lips and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of your hand.

Before leaving, she put her hands on Valka’s shoulders and sincerely thanked her for helping you. Then she gave you a last smile and left. 

The healer forced you to drink three jugs of her wonderful tea, then she helped you outside to relieve yourself and brought you back to bed, rubbing the salve into your cheek again and ordering you to sleep for now. The ointment numbed your skin and made the pain bearable. Taking a final look at the sun setting behind the mountains, you drifted away to sleep again. 

-

When Eivor brought bread and stew later, you felt much better already. The two Viking women sat on the floor next to you as you ate together. The stew was made with thick chunks of fatty meat and big slices of root vegetables, filling your stomach for the first time in days. Eivor told Valka about the raid; apparently the healer had not attended the celebrations yesterday. When the warrior told Valka about Dag's terrible state last night and this morning, the dark-haired woman just shook her head about this much exorbitance and stupidity. 

Even though you were still exhausted and not fully present at times, it was nice to sit with the two women and listen to them exchange stories and opinions, talk about plans for the future and a woman Valka was thinking about pursuing. The name Randvi caught your attention at one point, but with a meaningful look from Eivor, the topic was changed. 

As it got dark and you couldn't stop yourself from yawning, they debated what to do with you this night. Valka offered to sleep on the floor so you could stay here, but Eivor argued that she had a bed large enough and far more comfortable for the both of you. The healer admitted that you seemed to be stable for now and made Eivor promise to call for her immediately if anything happened with you. 

She handed Eivor a bag with the ointment, a few clean bandages, and the herb blend for the tea you should drink for the next few days. The blonde slung the pouch over her shoulder, then she approached you with a suddenly shy smile. 

“We haven’t asked you for your opinion on this at all. Do you even want to sleep in my hut?” she asked timidly, seeming almost nervous as she waited for your answer.

You shook your head and smiled. “Eivor, I’m just glad to be out of that terrible cell. I will sleep on the floor if I need to.”

“Little bird, tonight you will fly into the land of dreams on the softest wings. This bed is fit for a queen.” 

You held up your arm and wrapped it around the back of her neck as she picked you up again. Valka accompanied you outside, then she said her goodbyes and left for the longhouse. Eivor carried you in the other direction and used her knee to open the door to her big wooden cottage. Red rugs covered the wooden floorboards and a big torch next to the entrance lit the room, drenching it in flickering golden light. Her bed really was gigantic, with intricate carvings on the headbord and furs draped over the mattress.

The warrior gently lowered you onto her bed and laid down an enormous quilt over your body. She lit a candle on her side of the bed and put out the torch. Then she sat down on a big trunk and took off her boots, placing them neatly at the foot of the wooden bedframe. Slowly, trying not to disturb you, she laid down next to you and covered herself with a thin blanket. You raised your head.

“Won’t you get cold?”

Eivor looked at you in surprise, probably having assumed you were already sleeping. She gave you her wonderfully crooked smile. 

“I’m very hot blooded. I don’t mind the cold.” 

“I admire that,” you sighed. “I’m always freezing.”

She turned toward you and rested her head on her arm, stretching out her other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Her fingers stayed on your forehead for a moment. 

“Your fever has dropped. Good,” she mumbled, “you’ll be better tomorrow. Sleep now, little bird.” 

-

Later at night you woke up from the sound of your own chattering teeth. The cold had entered the hut and taken a hold of you with its icy fingers; your whole body was cramping up and shaking. 

You looked over at the warrior lying next to you. Eivor was sleeping soundly, her bare arms thrown over her head and one leg sticking out from under the blanket. She seemed to be immune to the bitter cold.

There was no way you could fall asleep like this, freezing and shivering, your jaw hurting from trying to stop the chattering. You had to take the plunge. Slowly, you turned over to Eivor, scooting closer to her and lifting the quilt to come in contact with her warm body. She was radiating heat. 

You snuggled up to her, laying your head on her shoulder and resting your arm on her chest. She flinched at your weight on her, opening her eyes to make sure there was no danger. You two shared a silent look, then she smiled and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in closer and warming you up so quickly that you were asleep again within minutes.

-

The next morning you were woken by the bustle outside, animal noises mixing with the blacksmith’s hammer and people talking as they walked past. A rooster crowed and reminded you of your old home in Williamsburg. You were still lying close to Eivor, your head in the crook of her arm and your leg intertwined with hers. She hummed in her sleep as she felt you stirring and pulled you in, not allowing you to move.

You noticed that your head wasn’t throbbing anymore. Your cheek still felt tender and the wound stung, but you were sure the salve and the herbal infusion Valka had given you would get you through the day. 

Eivor moved again, turning her torso toward you and holding you even closer to her chest. 

“How did you sleep, little bird?” she mumbled into your hair. “Did I share enough of my warmth with you?”

You pressed your forehead into the hollow spot beneath her collarbone and inhaled her wonderful scent, a mixture of herbs, tree bark, snow days and a faint musk reminding you of the deer on William’s pasture.

“Without you, I would have frozen to death last night,” you murmured back. She enveloped you with her strong, hot body while her fingers stroked your hair absentmindedly. 

Suddenly, the blonde drew her head back to look down at you. 

“How is your face? Better?”

You nodded. 

“It still burns, but I think the worst is over.”

Eivor let go of you and stretched her arm toward the bag on the wooden trunk, almost falling off the bed when she finally caught it. You grabbed her hand just in time to pull her back up, both of you having to laugh at her clumsiness. She opened the small jar with the rich yellow cream and dipped two fingers into the mixture. Careful not to press down too hard, she rubbed the salve into your cheek, all the way from your jaw to your temple. As she massaged the little dent there, you closed your eyes and leaned into her touch. 

After a while, Eivor got up and put on leather pants and a coat over her tunic. She lit the fireplace so you would be warm all day and slipped on her boots, promising to return soon with breakfast and a kettle to make your tea. 

You let yourself fall back onto the pillow and pulled the quilt all the way up to your nose. This day promised to be a lot more comfortable than the last ones. There was not going to be much to do except lay around and wait for Eivor to check in on you every once in a while. Maybe she would give you something to do - you could mend clothes for her or sweep the hut or prepare food for later. 

It seemed terribly unfair to you all of a sudden, you sitting here warm and fed while Eda and the others were still biding their time in their cell. It was not like you had done anything to gain anyone’s favor, Eivor just seemed to take to you a lot and your injury had drastically changed your path here. You wondered what the others were doing now and what they would be doing in the next few weeks. Eivor hadn’t taken them here without reason, there had to be a purpose to all of this. 

A noise at the window made you look up. It was Birna, the white cat from yesterday, shooting you a demanding look through the gaps in the wooden grid that let in some light without leaving a big hole in the wall. Right, no glass windows. No wonder you had been freezing last night. Careful not to lose your balance, you got up from the bed and took the grid from the small opening. You were delighted to see that it had started snowing outside. Birna gave you a satisfied meow and squeezed through the window, immediately heading for the bed and curling up right where you had sat. The spot was probably still warm.

After placing the grid back in the window frame, you joined Birna on the mattress. She stretched and rubbed her tiny head against the back of your hand, demanding to be petted, and you humbly obliged. The two of you sat together for a while, the little lady purring in response as you made her compliments and told her about the cats back at Williamsburg.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. This was strange - why would Eivor knock? To make sure you weren’t indecent? She had already seen you naked yesterday, although it would fit her to still be all honorable and courteous.

Another knock.

“Eivor, are you there? It’s Randvi.”

Your breath caught in your throat and Birna looked up at you, indignant at your sudden refusal to pet her. You did not dare to move or say anything. 

“Listen, I know we quarreled yesterday, but does this mean you won’t speak to me now? I just want to talk.” She sounded desperate, knocking harder this time. Fuck.

For a moment, there was silence and you started to hope she had left. 

Then the handle turned and the door opened. 

Randvi stood in the door, tall and beautiful as ever, her hand still on the doorknob. In a matter of seconds, her face went through surprise, confusion, realization, anguish and then nothing but wrath. You sat stone still, staring at her.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet and ice cold.

“So that’s how it is. I understand now.” She laughed but there was no humor in her voice, only bitterness.

Before you could say anything, she had turned on the spot and slammed the door shut. You could hear her steps fade away on the path to the longhouse and finally dared to release the breath you had been holding this entire time.

Birna had jumped at the loud noise, but now she rolled herself up in your lap and began to purr again. You let your head fall back against the headboard and stared up at the ceiling, trying to gather your thoughts. 

Jesus Christ.

You jerked up when you heard steps at the door again, but this time it was Eivor that entered. There were snowflakes in her hair, her face was flushed from the cold and she had brought a well-filled jute bag and a dark metal cauldron. A bright smile was on her face as she stomped her feet to get rid of the snow on her boots and threw the bag on the bed. 

“First snow!” she pointed out the obvious and took off her coat before letting herself fall onto the bed next to you and giving Birna a big smooch, which the cat took with an annoyed grumble.

“How did she get in here?” Eivor laughed and ruffled the cat’s fur. “She doesn’t like the snow. The little Viking princess is a sensitive one. She stays in here all winter and complains until the thaw comes.”

You cleared your throat. “I let her in through the window. But…” Eivor seemed to finally sense something was wrong and gave you a questioning look.

“Randvi was here.”

The blonde closed her eyes and sighed, then she blinked up at the ceiling just as you had done minutes earlier. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s complicated.” She shook her head.

You bit your lip and gave her an apologetic look. “She seemed displeased.”

This was a vast understatement, but you did not want to get involved in this, whatever it was. 

“I’ll talk to her later. This has nothing to do with you,” Eivor promised. Exactly.

You shared a breakfast consisting of bread, goat cheese and dried fruit while the water over the fireplace had started boiling and the herbs inside filled the entire room with their pleasant smell. 

When you had finished your meal and started sipping your brew, Eivor propped herself up on her elbow next to you. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Eivor?”

With her fingertips she drew patterns into Birna’s fur, her brow furrowed in contemplation.

“Do you think you could take another look at the map? I am planning on raiding Fort Winton tomorrow or the day after. The time is right, we are experienced in fighting in the snow and cold. I want to get this done.”

You swallowed hard, thinking of the life you had led before. If you supported this raid, you were betraying all your previous affiliations and fealties. Winton’s Steward was a terrible man. He had scared you when you were younger and he scared you now. You were sure that there was not a single person under his rule that enjoyed his company or thought him a good sovereign. You took a deep breath.

“I will. But under one condition: I do not wish to be seen as subject to English rule and fealty. I owe them nothing. I will give you all my knowledge and skill and I will swear my loyalty to you, only you. I will no longer be an English prisoner but your servant and by extension, a part of this clan.”

Eivor listened to you intently and considered your proposition for a moment, then she nodded. 

“I would not have let you come into my house and sleep next to me if I did not trust you already. I do not know how, but it sometimes feels like destiny brought us together.” Her hand moved toward yours, then she pulled it back and continued to pet Birna.

“I will speak to the council about this tonight. Tomorrow you shall help us strategize, so we can leave at first light the next day.”

You agreed, stretching out a hand to stroke Birna’s fur and just so happening to brush over Eivor’s knuckles with your fingertips. Both of you had to smile, feeling as if you shared a secret, one that had not fully revealed itself to you yet.

The warrior actually had a few tasks for you that you could take care of in bed: a few of her tunics that had tears and holes, a pair of pants which had ripped at the back - she went crimson red and mumbled something about a drinking contest and a wrestling match - and an old fur coat she had grown out of but gave to you to mend and wear. 

You spent the day with Birna, sewing and patching up Eivor’s clothes while telling the cat stories about Delia and Henry and your favorite adventures from your childhood. Eivor came by later, dropping off some more fruit to pass the time until supper. She seemed slightly irritated, but when she saw your work on her clothes she rejoiced. 

“You’re an artist, little bird! With you by my side, I will soon look like a queen!”

You laughed and clutched the fur coat to your chest. 

“I will take this as my first payment, then. Thank you. Maybe I will finally be warm for once.”

“Y/N, are you telling me you were cold last night? You must be made of ice if my heat could not pierce you,” Eivor teased you playfully. 

“Oh, it most certainly did. It seems you are the only one capable of doing so.” You smiled at her. She grabbed your hand and rubbed her thumbs over your palm. 

“I need to go now and meet the council. I will come back to warm you later.” She stroked Birna’s fur one last time, then she got up and in leaving threw you a last look that sent blood into your cheeks and made your stomach flutter.

“I long for it,” you whispered after she had closed the door behind her.

[thetiredstuff]

oh same here, I've blocked dozens and dozens of destiel blogs over the last few days. basically anyone wishing death or other horrible things on jensen (and jarpad, I mean, I dont like the guy either, but that is going way too far), anyone fantasizing about and plotting ways to make jensen suffer, anyone claiming he is a rabid homophobe, anyone hoping to destroy his career... and all the people gleefully celebrating that "everyone" has turned on jensen now because they've always hated jensen and always knew he was a horrible person etc.

I absolutely cannot stand that kind of gross mob mentality and I find it hilarious that they all think they're the most woke and progressive people in this fandom, when they don't have a shred of kindness and consideration between them. they're the ones who would have called for people to be burned at the sake in the middle ages (and I've literally seen them wish for exactly that for jensen and jared) and they don't even realize it.

Yeah exactly this! I also agree about the wishing (severe) bodily harm. My stance on my presence online is: would I say it to their face? And I would absolutely say all of what I've said to jp's face. But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I wished bodily harm on someone. I'd rather they see some consequences for their actions.

Although, I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't disclose that I definitely sometimes wish for people to step on Lego or maybe fall down some stairs. Not badly but ya know. But that's the bad person in me.

But yes people have definitely gone off the rails with what happened this past weekend.

And I am sick of people coming for Jensen every chance they get. The loved calling him "fruity", which already irked me to death because that is an insult that is still not been reclaimed by the queer men it's been used against and almost all of the peopel using that insult as a "joke" had no business using it in the first place.

And then when he doesn't dance exactly like they want him to, they turn on him in an instant. Literally everyone says stuff they are not supposed to say, or puts their foot in their mouth, or encounters situations where they should have said something but didn't. Because we aren't perfect. Humans are not perfect.

But seeing how humans react to missing the mark, to putting their foot in their mouth, to not standing up when needed, to saying something they shouldn't have, that is incredibly important. And the context.

People keep coming for Jensen over his "open for interpretation" but guess what? He literally cannot confirm nor deny how Dean feels about Cas. Why? Because we never saw in the show how Dean felt.

The contracts that they signed basically boil down to: the show has ended so you cannot add to the existing material. You cannot add something of dialogue, or feelings, or stories about your character. You cannot speak in the name of your character. Which is why Misha had to stipulate during his panel "THAT THIS IS NOT CANON" He yelled it very loudly before answering about Cas in Heaven.

So technically, yes, Jensen can answer the question if he stipulates that what he is about to say is not canon. But it could jeopardize any projects with WB or in the SPN universe down the line. And it could jeopardize his potential career if he doesn't take contracts seriously.

What counts to me is that over the years, there have been so many queer fans who shared their interactions with Jensen and all of them have been positive. Haven't seen a negative one yet. Besides that, we've heard about his commitment to LGBTQ+ organizations. He doesn't do it for PR because the only reason we know about it is because those organizations or those in attendance reveal it later on.

And now he's started up a company with someone who is making waves for LGBTQ+ talent in Hollywood. Moreover, in every article mentioning Chaos Machine, it mentions the LGBTQ+ efforts of this person. A press release only ever reveals the most important information. The fact that her LGBTQ+ efforts have been mentioned in every single article means that this was not only in the press release but was high up in it as well because the information higher up in a press release is the most important one.

And about progressiveness: you cannot progress if you are not given the chances and space to do so. Being progressive is learning and unlearning. It is messing up constantly and trying to do better and educating yourself.

From the tidbits we've heard of Jensen, he genuinely seems like a nice guy. A little too nice towards jp if you ask me because he should have been facing consequences a long time ago but it is what it is because Jensen isn't the only one who is around jp's orbits so that responsibility shouldn't be solely placed on him (especially not since it seems like he no longer considers jp a friend)

Jensen has shown his willingness of learning and has altered his answers before after learning new information. People also seem to forget that he is shy. Like he might sing on stage and be an actor but he is a shy dude. He doesn't like solo panels, although he has clearly gotten a lot better at, but if you don't like solo panels, you also don't like due panels because the problem isn't being alone on stage, it's that he is shy and seems to get anxious.

Having to be perfect while being shy or anxious is literally an impossible situation. And I'm really fucking sick at all the Jensen-is-a-homophobe stuff.

When I got into this fandom, the Jensen-is-a-homophobe-stuff was so omnipresent, I genuinely thought for a second he was and it gave me just a ton of sadness. Not because I parasocialized with him but because I loved the show and I don't want homophobic actors play my favorite characters.

Jensen just can never catch a break. People are just lying in wait until he puts a toe out of the perfect mold and then the minefield they've layed around him explodes with the most vile stuff you can imagine. I'm sick of it. Also hilariously hypocritical how so many people are saying the most vile stuff about Ackles when a ton of them keep on following someone who is phobic against at least two queer identities within the LGBTQ+ community.

sorry this is so long, i kinda pop off when it comes to this subject lol.

[creampuffqueen]

Just Like This | Chapter Two

a/n: Hey friends! It's been a hot second, but here's chapter two! This chapter is about a high school football game, but written by someone who has never attended a high school football game as a student (I was always performing haha) I also have no idea how football works and yet wrote Rayla explaining it to Callum! So please forgive any inaccuracies lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3846

Warnings: Dirty jokes/innuendos, language

Read on Ao3

~~~~

Friday, October 5th, 2020

Callum’s house, 6:02 PM

HONK HONK HONK!

Rayla leaned on the horn of her car with a snicker, face splitting into a wide grin when the front door of Callum’s house opened. He was still putting his jacket on, and his mother followed him out, fussing.

“Have fun!” Sarai called as Callum clambered into the passenger seat, face red.

“Bye Mrs. Prince!” Rayla shouted back, waving goodbye as she put the vehicle in drive. Callum just groaned, putting his face in his hands and shaking his head.

“God, my mom’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s sweet,” Rayla assured, “At least you know she cares.”

Callum quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t press at the statement hidden in those words. Instead, he turned his gaze out the window. “This isn’t the way to school, Rayla.”

“Duh, I’m not stupid,” She snarked back, “We have to go pick up Andie and Callisto. I just didn’t tell your mom, because technically I’m only supposed to drive with one other person, but I don’t really care about that rule.”

“Fair enough.” Callum opened up the glovebox, rifling through all the trash to find the CDs stored beneath. Her car was old enough that the radio still used CDs rather than just connecting to a phone. He found one that seemed good, and put it in the player.

At the next red light. Rayla took her eyes off the road to glare at Callum with full force as Taylor Swift’s voice filled her little car. “Where did you even find that?”

Her best friend gave a knowing smirk. “It was actually at the top of the pile. Which is weird, since you supposedly hate Taylor Swift.”

The light turned green, and Rayla was forced to look away, though her ears still burned. “I never said I hated all her music. Just the new stuff.”

“Oh, so you’re a country Taylor fan?”

“If you don’t shut up and change the music before Andromeda gets in this car I swear to god I will throw you onto the concrete.”

Callum responded by nonchalantly tossing his legs onto the dashboard. “What, like we don’t all already know you’re not as badass as you pretend to be? You’ve got a reputation to hold with us?”

“I hate you.”

He dragged a hand through his fluffy brown hair, leaning further back in the seat. “No, you love me.”

Rayla gave him her middle finger, even as her face seemed to suddenly catch fire. If only you knew.

Thankfully, she pulled up outside of Andromeda’s house just in time. The other girl could diffuse some of the sudden tension, and maybe in a few minutes Rayla could look back at Callum without her head going all fuzzy.

“Hellooooo fellow sexy people!” Andromeda crooned as she plopped into the backseat, “How are we all feeling this fine evening?”

Glancing behind him, Callum’s eyes widened at the other girl’s outfit. She was completely decked out in the colors of Katolis High School, red and gold covering her entire body.

“I thought you were just wearing that getup for the first game?”

Andromeda shrugged. “Why not for every game? It’s fun.” She tugged at the red and gold jersey emblazoned with the number eight, then twirled her silvery hair tied into two pigtails with red ribbon.

“Let’s go get Callisto,” Rayla suggested, pulling out of her friend’s driveway.

“Perfect,” Andromeda replied.

As they drove, Rayla continued to speak, “Ground rules: you and Callisto keep your hands to yourselves in my car. I don’t care what you do at the game, but I’m not having any bodily fluids on my nice seats. Am I clear?”

“You and Callum with your ground rules,” The other girl sighed, “But fine. You two clearly think way worse of us than we actually are, though.”

Rayla and Callum shared a grin between them. Andromeda and Callisto were great on their own, but ever since they’d begun dating freshmen year they’d starting getting all handsy. Rayla knew, because Andie shared everything with her, that they hadn’t gone all the way, not yet.

Key word: yet.

And god help her, they were not going to complete their yet in her backseat.

It wasn’t long before they pulled up to Callisto’s house finding them similarly decked out for the Friday night game.

“Well now I’m feeling underdressed,” Callum snorted, glancing at the couple behind him. True to their word, they were keeping a perfectly respectable distance, but everyone knew it wouldn’t last.

“You’re wearing red,” Callisto suggested awkwardly, gesturing to his read scarf. “Just not the right shade.”

“I’ve got extra ribbons for my hair, if you want some, Rayla,” Andromeda offered.

As they pulled into the stadium parking lot, the sun rapidly setting behind them, Rayla turned back to her friend with a grin. “Yes please. You’re so good at hair, Andie.”

The group piled out of the car, Callisto and Andromeda holding hands, as expected. Callum turned to her with a smile and offered his arm. Nudging his side affectionately, Rayla hooked it with her own, desperately trying to keep her face from reddening.

Soon enough they were inside the stadium, and Callum had let go of her arm to pull out his phone and ask where the rest of their friends were. Rayla’s phone buzzed, probably from the group chat, and she opened it up to find where Claudia, Ram, and Skor were sitting.

Claudia: We’re on the far right of the bleachers

Claudia: Kind of near where the band is sitting. We’ve got a really good view close to the top

Ram: Hurrrrry

Andromeda: stfu ram, we’re coming

Ram: If Callisto’s with you then you’ll certainly be coming ;)

Andromeda: I’m going to obliterate your tiny twig ass

Claudia: ANYWAY

Claudia: My friend Nyx from theater class is here, is it okay if she sits with us? Maybe not for the whole game bc she says her friends are coming but just for the start

Their small group began to make their way to the far side of the stadium, where Claudia said they were, while Andromeda still had her nose in her phone. Probably insulting Ram, if Rayla had to guess. The idea of another person staying with them bothered her, if she was honest. They already had their friend group; they didn’t need to add anyone else.

Callum: Yeah sure, it’s fine

With a slight sigh, Rayla followed her friends up the steps of the bleachers until Claudia came into view, standing up and waving. Callum bounded up the stairs, a wide grin on his face. When he reached her, Claudia gave him a quick hug, then released him to reach for Rayla.

“Everyone, this is Nyx!” After hugging everyone, Claudia turned towards her other friend to introduce her. Nyx was sitting casually on the metal seats, and she gave a cheerful wave.

“Hi Nyx,” Everyone seemed to chorus in unison, making the other girl chuckle slightly.

Soon everyone had settled onto the metal bleachers, waiting for the game to begin. Tonight they were going against Neolandia, a longtime rival. The other school had a bit of a reputation for playing dirty, and everyone had resolved to keep a sharp eye out during the game for any instance of foul play.

But every thought about the impending football game flew from Rayla’s head as Callum leaned against her side, his soft hair brushing right below her eyes.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asked, giving a pointed glance to her bare arms.

“I probably will be later,” She admitted, taking in her outfit. Jeans, Converse, and a red and gold t-shirt wouldn’t do much to shield her from the cold when the sun went down.

“Just tell me and I’ll share my jacket,” Callum promised with a good-natured laugh. Rayla’s eyes widened a bit. Was he serious?

She was jolted from her thoughts by a sudden tap on her shoulder. Andromeda sat behind her, several hair ties and various ribbons clutches in her hands.

“Braids or pigtails, Rayla?”

“Er…” Slightly unsure, she took one of the red ribbons from her friend’s hand and twisted it slightly in her own.

“Braids,” Callum finished the sentence for her, “Your hair looks good in braids.”

“It really does look good like that,” Andromeda hummed appreciatively, dragging Rayla to sit closer to her so she could brush her fingers through her silver hair.

With the motion of Andromeda rhythmically combing her hair, Rayla allowed herself to relax in the familiarity of her friends. All around her they talked idly, Claudia’s snort-laugh punctuating sentences, Callum’s voice cracking providing plenty of entertainment.

The buzzer rang to begin the game just as Andromeda tied off the second braid, flicking both of them over Rayla’s shoulders so she could see them better.

“Oh, they’re so pretty!” She leaned back to give Andromeda a hug. “Thanks, Andie.”

“GO SOREN!” Claudia screamed suddenly, causing Rayla to nearly topple backwards into Andromeda’s lap. Everyone around them flinched, and they got a couple dirty looks from the other spectators.

Claudia didn’t seem to care, though. She was standing, cheering ecstatically for the blob moving down below, who must have been Soren. At some point she’d acquired pom-poms. From where, Rayla had no clue.

Callum and Rayla shared a look, neither of them lasting very long before bursting out laughing. If Claudia noticed, she didn’t show it, and kept cheering in the stands for her older brother.

“Woohoo!” Andromeda pumped her fist, though she didn’t stand up and join the junior girl. Instead she scooted over on the metal seat to sit next to Callisto, nearly tossing herself in their lap. Her partner just rolled their eyes and wrapped an arm around Andromeda’s waist.

Claudia’s cheering eventually faded into the background, letting Rayla focus on the field. They were rapidly taking yard lines, but it was only the first quarter. Things could change. Though she sure hoped not; if they were going to lose a game to anyone it had better not be Neolandia.

Then, on the next play, someone tossed the ball high and far, and Rayla was on the edge of her seat, and it was getting closer and closer to the endzone-

“TOUCHDOWN!” Claudia roared, sweet demeanor evaporating in the spirit of the game. “WE GOT A TOUCHDOWN!”

“We got a what?” Callum glanced up from his sketchbook. Both Rayla and Claudia whipped around to glare at him, neither realizing he’d brought it out. In an unspoken agreement, Claudia distracted him with a piercing stare, giving Rayla just the opening she needed to snatch the book from his hands.

“Hey!” The other boy yelped, but it was too late, and Rayla was already sprinting down the steps of the bleachers, sketchbook in hand.

“You’ll get it back after you watch the game!” She shouted from below, sticking her tongue out to blow a raspberry.

“Oh, very mature Rayla!”

“Come watch the game!”

His pout was absolutely adorable, and Rayla flushed at the thought, waving the stolen sketchbook high in the air. “Come watch with me!”

Finally, he relented, though not without a fair amount of complaining and cursing as he traipsed down the bleachers to get to her side.

“You are an evil person.”

She giggled, tucking the book under an arm. “I��m the weirdly sexy villain on a kids’ TV show.”

Callum just sighed. “Not funny.”

“Excuse you!” Rayla shot back, giving a dramatic wail, “I am the funniest person in this entire school!”

He made a weak grab for his sketchbook, but Rayla simply danced out of the way. “Nuh uh, no sir. You are going to watch the game with me.”

“But I don’t even know how football works,” Callum complained, gesturing to the field. The timer was paused, and Katolis was ahead, though not by much. It was going to be a tight game.

“Then I’ll teach you. And you’ll have fun, and learn to enjoy football, and we can all be a big happy friend group and you won’t have your face buried in a sketchbook.”

“For the record, I like having my face buried in a sketchbook-”

“Nonsense!” Rayla exclaimed, “You’re going to have fun. Without this old thing.”

“Alright, alright,” Callum sighed, “I’ll put it away. Can I please have it back?”

Rayla finally relented with a triumphant grin. “Let’s go back up top; you can see way better. Plus we’re near the band so we get to hear their stand tunes up close and personal.”

They arrived back at their seats just as the timer started again, and Rayla began her intense rundown of the inner workings of football. Callum tried to pay attention, but she could tell everything was going right over his head. Finally, she just settled for, “Cheer whenever our side is cheering, and you’ll fit right in.”

In the time it took to explain the first quarter had nearly ended, with Neolandia pulling ahead. Claudia was doing an elaborate pompom routine to rival the cheerleaders down below, even involving Nyx for parts.

“Gimme an S! Gimme an O! Gimme a R-E-N! What does that spell!?”

“Soren!” Nyx finished, and Claudia waved her pompoms triumphantly. Rayla watched them both with slightly piqued interest, flicking her ribbon-braided hair back and forth over her shoulder.

“Rayla, Callum-” She was pulled from her thoughts by Skor’s booming voice as he walked near them. “First quarter is over, we’re going to get some snacks. Come with?”

“I’m starving!” Callum chuckled, “It’s definitely time to stuff my face with junk food.”

“There’s the football game spirit!” Rayla cheered, clapping her friend on the shoulder. “Let’s go consume sugar-rich foods in unhealthily excessive portion sizes!”

The small group left Nyx and Claudia to their pompoms, and Callisto and Andromeda to… whatever it was they were doing. Perhaps trying to fuse their faces together? Whatever it was, it was gross and making everyone want to leave for a minute.

Beneath the bleachers was crowded with students and parents alike. Callum linked one hand with her, offering the other to Ram, attempting to keep from losing their group in the crowd.

It was a struggle to keep her face neutral. All her thoughts suddenly surged away from her head, instead focusing on that single point of contact. Were her hands sweating? God, she hoped they weren’t. She hoped she wasn’t the only one feeling too many emotions to count.

In the line for the snack bar (or, what she hoped was the line, as it was too crowded to properly tell) Callum didn’t meet her eyes, but his grip was firm as he pointed out the menu. Ram and Skor stood nearby, having foregone holding Callum’s other hand. Rayla wasn’t sure if she was happy for it or not.

“If we pool our money we can get a hot dog for everybody,” Skor suggested, “And maybe some popcorn too.”

“Yeah,” Callum agreed, “Let’s get a few popcorns and we can all share in pairs. Like you two, Claudia and Nyx, me and Rayla, and then the two leeches.”

“If they ever come up for air,” Rayla snickered, and she was greeted with Callum’s resounding voice-cracky laugh, and he truly turned to meet her eyes.

“Wanna bet they’ll eat it out of each others’ mouths?”

Rayla pretended to gag, “They’d better not.”

“Oh! Wait! They’ll eat the hot dogs like in the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp!” Ram snickered, and his suggestion was met with varying levels of disgust.

Finally, it was their turn to order. As they all gathered up their food Rayla could hear the buzzer on the field and more cheering from their side, so she hustled her friends back onto the bleachers.

Just in time, too. On the field, the ball flew into the endzone, and the entire Katolis side erupted into cheers. The band started playing a tune, and the cheerleaders began a mini routine.

“THAT’S MY BROTHER!” Claudia screamed over the roaring of the stadium, bouncing so hard Rayla wondered how she hadn’t simply flown away yet. Andromeda was standing on her seat to cheer, Callisto’s arm wrapped her around her waist to keep her steady.

“Gold! And red! We’ll knock ‘em dead!” On the edge of the field, the cheerleaders chanted carrying it throughout the stands. The band kicked into a higher gear, playing the school’s iconic fight song that had everyone clapping to the beat. Out on the field, Rayla could spot Soren’s blond head among the other players, pumping his fists in triumph.

“So I’m assuming we did something good?” Callum shouted over the din, wading through the throng of people to sit back down on their metal seats. One of his hands was still attached to hers, and Rayla had no intentions of letting go any time soon.

“Yes, dummy!” She giggled back, pointing to the scoreboard. They finally were able to reach their seats, and plopped back down while the cheers began to fade. Callum had been holding one of the bags of popcorn, and he placed it between them so they both could share. Ram and Skor passed out the rest of the food, and the group all relaxed once more.

When the game was finally up and running again, Nyx turned away from Claudia’s intense one-woman cheer session to face Rayla and Callum, plopping pieces of popcorn in her mouth. Her eyes, one blue and one amber, honed in on Rayla in such a way that an embarrassed flush crept up her cheeks with little warning.

“You two look cozy,” She remarked with a smirk. Rayla’s face burned hotter, and she resisted the urge to scoot away. Callum blinked in surprise, glancing between Rayla and Nyx.

“Callum’s my best friend,” Rayla replied, though it sounded lame, even to her. “We’ve always been close.”

The other girl just smiled broader. “It’s so cute. At least you guys are way more subtle than those two over there.” She gave a pointed glance behind them, and Rayla didn’t even have to turn to know that Andromeda and Callisto were making out. Again.

“Oh, uh, we’re- we’re not dating…” Callum said awkwardly.

“You’re not?” Nyx blinked up in mock surprise. “I mean, you’re sharing a popcorn, she’s practically in your lap-”

“I am not!” Indignantly, Rayla shot a glare at the other girl.

Nyx just rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, lovebugs.” Reaching for more popcorn, she turned back around in her seat to chat with Claudia some more.

“Well, she’s something,” Callum muttered under his breath, “Going out and assuming things.” He met Rayla’s eyes, then looked away just as quickly, like he hadn’t meant to be heard. “I mean, us dating?”

Rayla’s whole face was on fire. Scratch that, her whole body was on fire. Was she having a panic attack? Is this what a panic attack felt like?

“Crazy, huh?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. The two teenagers shared an awkward laugh that did nothing to lessen the tension, then went back to eating their popcorn.

Rayla didn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

The rest of the game was a blur she hardly remembered, points and scores blending from one to the next. On the outside she was smiling, laughing, cheering. On the inside she was empty.

Before long the last buzzer had rung, and Katolis had won the game by the skin of their teeth. The band played their final tune, and everyone began to vacate the stands.

With the crowd that had come to the game, it took a while to make it back to Rayla’s car. They said their goodbyes to their friends while they walked their separate ways, promising to see them again on Monday.

It was pretty late, nearly 10:30, so the chatter that had filled the car on the way in had lessened now. Andromeda and Callisto were even talking, rather than engaged in a lip-lock. In the passenger seat, Callum once again had his feet up on the dashboard, and was sketching by the light of the stadium floodlights as they waited their turn to leave the parking lot.

When they finally exited, the talking stilled even further. There was no sound in the car save for the radio, and the quiet scratching of pencil lead on paper.

Callisto was dropped off first, Andromeda not too long after. And then it was just Rayla and Callum, alone once again.

She pulled into his driveway and put the car in park, letting it idle while he gathered his things. He reached for the door handle, but something stopped him. He turned back to face her.

“Rayla, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She echoed, “For what?”

Callum scratched at the back of his neck. “For making things all awkward. You know I’m not good being put on the spot like that, but I just made things worse and I’m sorry.”

“You mean about Nyx?”

“Yeah.”

Rayla shrugged. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s her who should be sorry, assuming and being an ass and all that.”

“Still.” Callum glanced down at his sketchbook, still open. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached down and tore out the page. Rayla only had enough time to furrow her eyebrows in confusion - Callum never tore out pages of his sketchbook - before the page was in her hands.

Oh.

It was a picture of her. She was smiling, and her hair was braided with ribbons. It was a picture of her just tonight.

“You’re my best friend, Rayla.” She glanced back up to see Callum’s earnest expression as he spoke. “I don’t wanna let something stupid come between us. Whatever Nyx said doesn’t matter, okay? We know what we are.”

“Yeah,” Rayla said, punctuating the sentence with a half-hearted laugh.

“Okay,” Callum chuckled, “Glad we’re on the same page. We communicate, you know?” His grin was real as he stepped out of the car.

“See you on Monday, Rayla.”

She waited for him to reach his front door, making sure he got inside safely, before she pulled away. She was so exhausted that she drove all the way home nearly in a daze (which would have been way more unsafe if she hadn’t just been driving through a neighborhood).

It wasn’t until she was back at home in her own driveway, car turned off, that everything truly hit.

If he hadn’t been clear before, he was crystal now. He may as well have outright said, ‘I just see you as a friend and I’ll never see you as anything else’. Maybe being so upfront would make things easier, and keep her from clinging to stupid, false hope.

Rayla refused to let herself cry. Don’t cry, not over him. He’s still your friend. Take what you can get.

So she got out of the car, went inside, and went to bed. And maybe she cried, just a little.

No, you love me, he’d said with that adorable little grin of his.

Okay, maybe more than just a little.

~~~~

a/n: AHHHHHH I feel bad for Rayla and I PUT HER THROUGH THIS PAIN. They never even got to share Callum's jacket because Nyx made things awkward :(

Tag List (comment to be added or removed):

@hipster-rapunzel

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats Pari on your application for Wren Hummel! Please check out this page here for what to do next, and please send us her blog within 48 hours! Welcome to the group!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: pari Preferred pronoun: she/her Age: 29 Timezone/Country: est/usa RP Experience: i've been rping for 12+ years in multiple different kinds of groups (glee, smut, harry potter, oc) Activity Level: 7/10 just because of work

IC INFORMATION:

Name: wren hummel Designation: switch Age: 24 Birthdate: december 1, 1998 Faceclaim: victoria pedretti Orientation: bisexual, biromantic (leans more toward women) Kinks: daddy kink, romance, bondage, hot wax, ice, group sex, spanking, voyerism, orgasim denial, choking, hair pulling, roleplay, begging, strap on, biting/scratching Anti-Kinks: scat, vore/gore, any bodily fluids, permanent marking, physical injury/disfiguring, pet play, little/child/age play, extreme play, cages

Key Points: 

- was previously attending a different school to learn the ways of the bdsm lifestyle, but has transferred to stonewall prep at the recommendation of kurt

- she's naturally an anxious person, suffers from panic attacks, especially when she's around too big of a crowd or overwhelmed by too much noise

- she is a more private person, she doesn't necessarily get lost in the crowd but she does prefer to keep to herself and people watch. it makes her a bit of a mystery.

- she's an athlete which takes up a lot of her time between basketball and softball she values her physique and working out. 

BIO 

growing up in the hummel household wren was the opposite of her brother, kurt. she was a tomboy and the athlete that her father had always been excited to have. she took to sports right away and valued the necessary traits it took to be good at what she did: teamwork, hardwork, discipline and motivated. she was constantly busy jumping between sports schedules but she loved it. but the one thing she was always jealous of was her brother's ability to march to the beat of his own drum and never care what anyone else had to say. wren always faltered when it came to peer pressure and cared far too much about what people thought of her. 

after high school wren was pushed to go out of state to a school for doms/swtiches/subs, her parents thinking it was a better idea for her to attend a school that had a good focus on their athletic programs as well as their studies. but after a shoulder injury kept her out of play for a year the hummels decided to bring her back to lima to be closer to them as she rehabbed her shoulder. she's actually pretty happy to be in a school with her brother for the first time and is excited for all the new opportunities here.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?  - "i like to think it's pretty accurate. in a lot of ways i shift between being a sub and being a dom. i think the more i explore the more i'll be able to find where i'm truly meant to be."

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it? - "my parents have always been believers in the system and subsequently so have i. if it keeps everyone safe and prevents everything from falling into a mess then i would rather follow the system than rebel against it."

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?   - "if i can't play any kind of sport professionally then i really. hope i am able to coach. the joy i find in sports is something that i would love to be able to help instill in others. i've had enough bad coaches to know what a good coach looks like and i would love to be that for someone else."

How do you feel about authority? - "when it comes to authority i think when it's done correctly then it's the kind of thing that a lot of people need. but when there are those that take advantage of their authority or toe the line with it, i begin to lose respect for them. in order for this society to work as a whole we need to follow the structure laid out for us and not overstep, no matter which mark you are."

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO “Evidence.”

Still working on the trial arc, and sorry I am late in posting. I had to go to work at seven and am trying to write in between helping guests. 

CREDIT and a THANK YOU to one of my amazing discord community members Eddi, who has been working for the last few months on the audio visual and transcript logs seen here. I did not write them, Eddi wrote them an was kind enough to let me use them in this story. I loved it and thought it brought a lot of authenticity to the story by bringing in an outside voice. 

WARNING: GRAPHIC blood, gore, and bodily mutilation. The Steel eye project development is VERY horrible, so don’t read if that is something that bothers you. 

It was a beautiful day.

The sky was a bright eggshell blue stratified with only the occasional cirrus cloud highlighting the sky with a touch of distant white. The sun was bright though the temperature was moderate only in the mid eighties.

Swimmers could be seen as distant pinpoints of light and froth on the surface of lake Geneva. Voices echoed up from the city coerced mostly by the purring of hover-car engines.

Towering white buildings rose high into the sky adding height instead of width to a city that had not grown outside its own borders for the past thousand years other than to go up.

Itw as a more environmentally efficient way to build, and left the countryside untouched by the scars of infrastructure and humanity.

Adam stared out the window for a long moment wishing for the peaceful embrace of the skies and the roaring of a jet engine. A soft whimper at his leg, and he looked down to see Waffles sitting at his heel, her head tilted back to look up at him. WHen he didn’t immediately respond to her she whined again and scooted closer, her paws making soft clicking sounds on the wood flooring below.

Finally he reached down and scratched her behind the ears.

She could sense his agitation, and it was clear that she didn’t much like it.

He couldn’t blame her.

He didn’t like it either. He sighed and turned his head away from the do and he window, back to the mirror in front of which he now stood. He didn’t see himself.

The man in the mirror was tall, straight backed with sharply trimmed and styled hair, jaw squared and raised. Both eyes were green though one expanded and contracted like the appriture of a camera. The expression on the man’s face was stern and unyielding.

He looked…. Like his father.

He had never seen much of a resemblance between them, but now he could certainly see it.

It didn’t help that the stars on his uniform seemed to add an extra ten years to his age.

With a soft sigh, he pulled his captain’s cap down snuggly onto his head and whistled low for his dog.

She fell into a perfect heel at his side, and he clipped the leash onto her colla.

Her black service vest was strapped on tight with a pair of doggie saddlebags on either side carrying water bottles. Waffles always liked having a job to do, and a little extra work would help to keep her relaxed during the trial rather than antsy.

She was going to have to stay very still for a very long time for the next few days.

“Ready girl.”

Her tail thumped against the floor at his voice.

“At least that makes one of us.”

He transferred her elash to his left end, though he didn’t technically need it, and led her out of the bedroom and into the large living room. It was a lot of hotel room for just one man. He would have been fine enough with a double queen personally, but he supposed if the UNSC was paying there was no reason to argue otherwise.

It felt strange, going to a hotel on the UNSC’s Dime to testify against the UNSC in one of the biggest trials of the century.

His stomach churned.

Waffles nosed his hand.

Dr Krill floated down from his examination of the chandelier, “I admire human artistry, but pragmatism is still my preferred way of living.” he motioned around the room, “A bit opulent.”

Adam nodded his agreement, “You can say that again. I haven’t slept on a bed that big in my life.” In all honesty, he was trying to keep his mind off of what was to come. He didn’t really care about the bed and certainly didn’t know if he had ever slept in a bed that large.

He sort of doubted it, he was in the UNSC after all.

A knock came on the door and he turned reaching for the handle and pulling it open. The driver from yesterday was waiting for him, his suit pristine. He bowed slightly, “The car is waiting for you, sir.”

He nodded, and motioned the other man to lead the way.

The man nodded and thanked him, stepping down the hall and leading them down into the lobby. They got a lot of looks as they made their way down, most likely because of krill, though his uniform might have caught some attention.

He was led out towards the car and slid into the back seat, suddenly surprised to find that he wasn’t alone.

“Admiral Kelly!”

“Good morning, Adam.”

“What are you doing here.”

“I am here to witness the trial. UNSC representatives thought it would be best if some of the newer brass came to oversee proceedings.”

He quickly looked out the window, suddenly remembering which side of the conflict this was on.

A hand rested on his arm, “I’m not here to make you feel bad about your decision, Admiral. You’re doing what needs to be done.”

He sighed and nodded, “I… thank you ma’am.”

“You sure this is something you are ready for.”

He paused and then shook his head, “No… I’m not ready, and I never will be.” She went to open her mouth but he stopped her, “But I’m the only one we have, so I will do what it takes.”

The car went silent as it slowly accelerated into the early morning traffic.

It was going to be a very long day.

Admiral Kelly turned to look at Krill speaking with him quietly while Adam looked out the window.

He wasn’t in the mood for talking right now though he knew how odd that was.

His stomach continued to churn as they drove through the streets heading towards the outskirts of the city where the Geneva court had been built just over 200 years ago.

The last buildings on the outskirts of town  went by and their first view of the court appeared in the car window. It was made in the classic greco-roman style with large white pillars and sloped rooftop and carvings on the top that depicted all the deities of justice ever conceived by historial religion, all cast and depicted in marble.

The thoroughfare up to the building was long and wide with a decorative reflecting pool at the center and a set of daunting steps leading up to the ornate front doors.

The grounds were meticulously kept with hedges shrub and flowering bushes, with what must have been miles and miles of water features and fountains off to the side.

It was a beautiful location, and it seemed that visitors found it a nice spot to rest while they enjoyed touring the sites.

He didn’t see much in the beauty today.

This was the UN supreme court, and the history of Geneva made this place hallowed in ways that made the court case for today all the more poignant.

The car pulled to a stop before the doors and a few gloved attendants stepped forward sharply dressed and opened the doors with almost militaristic precision as Admiral Vir and Admiral Kelly stepped out.

Waffles followed at his heels

He knew as soon as he stepped onto the marble steps that he wanted to leave, an the only thing that kept him there was the memory of those faces…. All the people counting on him back at the house, all the people who had never been given a chance to recover like he had.

He took a deep breath and ford himself up the steps and towards the front doos where a group of people were already congregating.

There were a few reporters there, without cameras, waiting to attend in the audience and record the proceedings for their news stories and daytime television. A few of them snapped discrete photos of him as he passed and was led through the wide double doors into the expansive inner hallway with a beautifully muraled ceiling and a line of decorative plants down the side.

Voices echoed inside the building, rising up around him to bounce off the marble.

The voices themselves were indistinct and difficult to understand as he made his way further into the room.

Men in suits lined the walls.

He eyed them critically wondering if any of them happened to be the defence.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he quickly turned to eye another attendant, who had evidently been trying to get his attention, “Right this way sir.”

He nodded and was led through the halls and into a nearby antichamber.

A wand was passed over his body.

“Please hold out your arm , sir.”

He did as ordered and watched as his forearm implant was temporarily deactivated. 

“The room is completely radio proof, sir. No signals go in or out. If you must make a call, I urge you to take it during the court recess.”

“Understood.”

“Please step inside and sit on the second row on the right side behind the prosecution.

He did as ordered, and stepped into another wide curving room.

It was much bigger than he would have thought, two stories high with amphitheater seats, and a massive curving desk at the front where nine Geneva court judges would be seated on their entrance.

There was no jury.

The Geneva court judges would be the jury for trial at this time.

Law practices had changed a lot since world war III but there was still some semblance of the old ways that still lingered on.

He took his seat, waffles grumbling softly as he slid onto the ground beside him.

Two people in suits followed him inside one in a dark blue suit and brown shoes, the other in pinstriped balck.

The one in blue was a woman, dressed sharply, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight you could have strummed out a tune on the hairs. She paused next to Adam and held out a hand, “Admiral Vir, we spoke over the phone.”

“Ms. Trevor.”

She nodded and motioned to the man, “And my partner Mr. Jackson. I trust you understand your purpose here today?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Jackson lifted his head, “Our case here is solid, admiral. This case isn’t about who is going to be punished for what happened, but about how long they will be punished, not to mention it is likely to set up some new legislation for the ethical creation and use of military hardware. Once we are done, something like this is unlikely to ever happen again.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but he nodded and let them take their seats in the desk before him.

Waffles whimpered and prodded at his hands with her nose.

He stroked a hand over her big pointed ears.

The courtroom filled up within the next hour, and, Looking across the room, he saw a line of men and women sitting on the second row of the defence. Something about them put him on edge.

He had a feeling they were the scientists.

They were the ones who had developed the steel eye armor.

“All rise! For the honorable Geneva court judges!”

The entire room took to their feet as the nine judges filed out of a back chamber and stepped onto the floor. All of them wore traditional black robes with white collars as had been tradition for nearly thousand of years. They took their seats with a mass shuffling.

“Please be seated.”

The room shuffled back into place.

The head judge,at the center of the table leaned forward.

“On this day June 24, 4024 we open the Geneva Court case of The People VS UNSC Biomechanics Division. the court will begin by hearing opening statements from the council.”

Council for the prosecution stood, shuffling her papers once before stepping up to the lectern.

“Honorable judges and members of the court, today we are here to present evidence against a faction of the UNSC scientific division for gross ethical violations, torture, and pruposeful endangerment of human life. Evidence suggests over 29 killed, over 21 critically injured, maimed, or permanently crippled, and over 61 with lasting mental trauma. This is not counting over 50 Steel eye soldiers coerced without prior knowledge, into participation in the program, 30 of which are now deceased 15 of which have lasting mental trauma, and five that, while functional, still feel the effects today. Today we will be presenting, written documents, video recordings, and audio files from prior testing as well as first hand witnesses of both the testing and the war as well as expert witness from the scientist who read and compiled the files before trial. What was done to these men and women constitute as war crimes and their victims deserve compensation and closure for what was done to them.”

She stepped back from the podium and nodded.

The defence stood and made their way to the podium in turn, “Your honors, and members of the court, while it is true that some unfortunate incidents happened during testing and development of the steel eye project, there is ample evidence to prove that none of these men or women were coerced against their will into participation. All subjects were volunteer and duly informed before proceedings began. Furthermore, scientific ethics had not advanced far enough at the time to cover weather or not what they were doing was an ethical violation. The Defence is not asking for complete vindication for the accused, but the sum of what happens is surely less than war crimes.” 

They took their seat.

Adam wasn’t a lawyer, but he knew which opening statement he liked more. Now maybe he was biased, but certainly he felt that one presented greater amounts of evidence than the other. Of course it was up to the prosecution to show evidence that would convince the judges, beyond a reasonable doubt, that these men and women were guilty.

He listened to some more speaking, half falling asleep and assuming maybe this would be as bad as he thought it would when one of the prosecution stepped back up to the podium.

“The prosecution presents time stamped dated and logged evidence to the court for consideration. The first testing log we wish to present is from the eighteenth of October 4016 and overseen by Dr. Tato Nkosi written as log number 23.” 

Experimental Log #023:

So far we have not experimented with a human subject, All the sample tests and simulations indicate that there should be no interference with normal function nor create any feedback loops that could induce seizures. This is the first human testing that we will be doing. We have noticed that the animal testing resulted in significant irritation and irrational behavour from the subjects, We however suspect this was because they were unawares of the reason for the implantations.

The subject is unconscious for the process of implantation to prevent movement. 

-recording break-

The subject reacted violently to the implant, removing it in a highly violent manner while screaming and trying to injure any nearby scientists. We expected some level of resistance, but this indicates far more sensitivity than expected. Further testing will be required.

“The council for the prosecution wishes to present the audio/visual log.” A light flickers on as a video clip begins reeling.

Audiovisual Log Transcript:

The subject wakes suddenly, seeming to be woken by extreme pain. Screaming almost instantly and scrabbling at implant on their hand and wrist. Subject seems to be attempting to remove the implant. One of the scientists attempts to calm the subject only to be beaten by the subject who continues screaming. The scientist retreats from the subject just as the subject finally removes the test implant by ripping it from the subjects skin, tearing with it the subjects local nervous system along with large sections of the subjects musculature and ligaments. Seeming relieved at the lack of contact with the implant, the subject sinks to its knees. The subject is losing significant amount of blood, though we suspect the subject is unaware of this as large sections of the nervous system is still attached to the implant. The subject appears to be in shock as it observes its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject has resumed screaming and is now trying to get the scientists attention to fix its ruined lower arm and hand. The subject is sedated and arm treated. The recording ends here. 

Adam throws a hand up over his face feeling bile rise into his mouth at the image seared into his brain. Muscle and ligament dangling uselessly against a steel eye prototype. He felt a bit lightheaded but takes a deep breath in and out to calm his breathing. All around the room there are gasps of shock and disgust. A few people stand to leave the room unable to witness any more.”

The council steps forward, “This was the first log in a recorded series of proceeding logs with similar effects. We know in experimentation that accidents happen all the time, and we might have considered forgiveness if the experimentation had stopped here. Clearly implementation on human test subjects was not ready, as evidenced by the animal’s discomfort. Perhaps if they had stopped here, some measure of understanding might have been allowed. But they continued past this point with full knowledge that this sort of catastrophic event could happen. This test subject will never regain full use of his hand. Instead of stopping the experiment like hey should, the scientists determined that the use of painkillers was in order to make the subject operational. For this the prosecution calls expert witness Dr. Alexander Gladstone to the witness stand.”

On the bench to his side, a man stands slicking back his salt and pepper hair as he moves to sit in the witness stand and is sworn in.

“Dr. Gladstone, tell us a little of your credentials.”

“Of course, I received my PHD in Biomechanical interface and Engineering as well as an additional PHD in Mechanised robotics. I have worked as the head scientist for the UNSC testing division for nearly five years now after my predecessor quit. I helped to re-engineer this project under Iron eye as a step forward from the Steel eye project in a more controlled and ethical environment. I am also the scientists who reviewed these logs and compiled them for analysis today.”

“Thank you Dr. Now, may I ask why these scientists would have chosen to implement a drug dosage?”

“To understand why they had to do this, you must also understand the steel eye project itself. Steel eye was designed to enhance the strength, speed and durability of the wearer. We already have exo suits designed for use in factory and industrial settings, however the main issue we run into in a combat setting is that the machine responds too slow. The nodes detect electrical impulses from the muscles and then have to fire following that meaning the subject has already begun moving almost seconds in advance of the machine. Steel eye was created to integrate the machine directly into the body to intercept nerve impulses before the muscles even fire, thus making the wearer faster, and the augment making them stronger. To do this you have to make a direct interface with the nervous system. They first implemented small microfivers which would wrap themselves around the nerves in question to detect electrical signals. These were designed to cluster primarily along the spine but have additional nodes in the major muscle groups. However, direct stimulation of a nerve or nerve cluster sends signals to the brai nthat are interpreted as…. Unbelievable agony, which is likely the agitation that they were seeing in the animal test subjects. However, with a high enough drug dosage, you can mitigate these effects, or distract the brain enough to keep the wearer functional for some time.”

He sat back in his seat.

“And in iron eye, how did you get around this problem?”

“Subdermal implants that do not require direct contact with the nerve endings themselves.”

“And does Iron eye cause any significant damage to the wearer?”

“No sir, the only danger is an infection of the implants, but that is with almost any implanted medical devise.”

“The subjects have no pain.”

“A general soreness that goes away within two to three days.”

“So in my understanding it is clear that there were alternatives to their original course of action. They could have pulled back and tried to implement a way to mitigate the pain rather than mask it with drug dosages?”

“Certainly.”

“But that isn’t what they did.”

“No.”

“The prosecution presents Transcript 27 to the court for viewing.” 

Experimental log #27:

We have begun testing various drugs to suppress the pain, this test is with acetaminophen, commonly referred to as Codeine. 

As per usual the subject was implanted while unconscious and atop this it was given a high dose of codeine prior to it awaking. 

-recording break-

It appears that while the subject was capable of withstanding the pain from the implant for a longer period of time than our previous subjects However the subject clearly seemed to suffer increasing mental instability as the sensations returned, culminating in the subject violently trying to destroy the implant. Learning from prior experiments and in an attempt to reduce harm to the scientists, the subject was left alone while it was in this state and no attempt was made to aid the subject.

Adam turned his head away unable to stomach what was coming next. His hands were sweating terribly. He felt cold and weak. He had seen horrible things in war and in his time, but watching this… .watching steel eye. It was just too much.

His mouth had gone dry, and his skin was hot as if he had a fever.

The dog nosed his hand but he barely acknowledged her.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The transcript begins once the Codeine begins to wear off. 

The subject begins by itching at the area around the implant, the reaction is far less violent than the prior subjects. After several minutes of ever more irritated scratching and aggressive tugging at the implant and plaintive noises the subject began to violently bash the implant against the wall. Growing ever more violent with the abuse of the implant. This continues till the test implant is mangled and ruined with the subject pulling the mangled chunks of metal off their skin, this however seems not to alleviate the subjects pain and irritation. This is likely due to the destruction of the implant not removing the interfacing needles The subject continued to scratch and pull at its skin, the plaintive noises slowly becoming screams of pain. This action continued without interruption from the scientists till the subject had torn most of the skin of its arm and taken chunks out of its musculature, the subject finally passed out from pain or blood loss after several minutes of self mutilation. 

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all 

[anthonyed]

For the kissing writing prompts: 19 + Stony

elle, neither you nor i can choose enemy to lovers / friends to lovers so, i meshed them both together (from this list : One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.)

-//-

“Are you both gon’ keep doing this thing you’re so keen on doing?” Fury asks, teeth gritting on ‘keen’ as he glares at Steve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, poker-faced, eyes blank, staring right back at Fury.

Fury looks away, “And you?” He barks. “Mr Stark!”

Tony Stark looks up, exaggeratedly startled from his lounging; one hand over his glowing blue chest and another clutching his phone and he gasps, “Who? Me?”

Steve couldn’t help it, he snorts. Next to him, Tony’s mouth twitches.

Across them, Fury closes his one eye and takes a long deep breath. “Listen here, motherfuckers,” he states, “I do not have time to deal with the repercussions of your scream fights in the middle of streets; in the broad daylight while the media is zeroing in on your grown asses like vultures – Look!” he snaps, blue lights flickering mid-air over his office table and a video starts to play.

It's a footage of their post battle disagreement – which Fury so eloquently called a ‘scream fight’ -; in which Captain America and Iron Man, with their faces exposed, are yelling at each other, hands flying out in accusations and pure temperament.

In the office, Steve sits in his casual wear, back ram-rod straight, still poker-faced but knuckles white, fists clenched on his lap.

Beside him, Tony Stark looks eerily composed; not a single emotion in his face, eyes hidden safely behind his tinted glasses as he continues to rock back on forth in his chair. When the video ends, he looks at Fury. “I’ll talk to Pepper,” he shrugs, “If your PR is incompetent, mine can take over. No need to get all riled up over it - Look, you’re even getting wrinkles -,”

“Stark!” Fury barks. “What I want.” He grits out, one eye dancing from Steve to Tony, “Is for that to never happen again,” he jabs at the screen. “This is not about your image. This is me, being concerned about the state of your team.”

Tony scoffs. Steve on the other hand, flushes with shame. “It won’t happen again,” he tells Fury. The chair beside him creaks and Tony stands up straightening his suit. Steve looks at him expectantly, hoping he’d say something, but he isn’t even looking back.

Instead, he turns around, already making his leave. Steve hastily promises Fury, rising from his own chair and he hurries after Tony.

He catches him outside the elevator, but he waits until they’re both inside, stares at the one agent in there, holding the open button until that agent leaves and he rounds up on Tony.

“What’s going on?” He asks, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore. He’d done it for the last two weeks and he’s tired. “Tony.” He presses when no response comes.

Tony snaps, “What?!” Looking more than affronted; livid. Mad.

And Steve reels back, shaken by the unexpected venom dripping from his friend. Or who used to be his best friend – he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. Not after how everything changed – don’t know what caused it even – after Tony returned from Belgium a fortnight ago, and he started treating Steve differently. Worse than he used to before they were friends – No.

Even then, Tony would still talk to him. Needle him, taunt him or something to get a reaction out of Steve. But this time, he’s just plain ignoring Steve; acting as if Steve isn’t even there and then they were called out for a mission and Steve yelled at him because he was trying to get himself blown up again and only then he yelled back at Steve and now. Now, Steve’s trying to talk to him, ask him what’s wrong, and he’s apparently angry at Steve.

It wouldn’t have hurt if they never had ever become as close friends as they had, but they did, and now it just hurts.

“What did I do?” Steve asks. Ready to amend, do something – anything - to mend whatever he had unknowingly broken to have their friendship back.

Tony blinks, as if he’s surprised; the only genuine emotion Steve ever saw from him today, then he looks away.

Swallowing the sharp pain behind his throat, Steve looks at him and demands again, “Tony. What did I do?”

“Nothing.”

Then why!? He wants to wail. Why are you – Why are we like this? What is happening? What’s going on? – So many questions and he stops to think because he’d learned from the past that when it comes to Tony Stark, he cannot be rash. He needs to properly assess every angle, consider every option before he opens his mouth.

But the problem is, he’s so blinded where he stands that he doesn’t even know if there are any angles around him. What more, what shape or state they are.

He pulls in a breath and declares, “I want to fix it.”

Tony’s gaze snaps towards him. “Fix what?”

“Whatever I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why -,” Steve begins, promptly interrupted by the elevator door opening and he’s so frustrated that he jabs at the door close button and swipes his hand across all the floors; ensuring no interruptions until they reach the topmost floor of the premise.

“Really?” Tony snorts, one eyebrow arched up at a challenging angle and Steve frowns at him.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Tony’s face carefully blanks out and he looks away again before he answers, “I’m not. I’m a very busy man – as a matter of fact I have a meeting to attend in five minutes and you’re going to answer to Pepper when she calls because -,”

“I’ll answer her, don’t worry about it," Steve cuts him off. "Now, you answer me – and don’t lie – why are you avoiding me?”

Tony scoffs, as if Steve’s spouting nonsense, “I just told you that -,”

“You’re a very busy man,” Steve cuts him off. “I know. But you used to talk to me. Since you came back from your last business trip, you never said a word to me, never came out of that lab of yours, refused me access to -,”

“I texted you I was working on something dangerous!”

“JARVIS texted me, Tony. I may be technologically inept but I know when it’s you texting me and when you’re asking JARVIS to do it. You’ve been avoiding me -,”

“I was busy!” Tony hisses, marching out of the elevator as soon as the doors open; glad to rid himself off of Steve.

But Steve doesn’t let him get too far; follows him until they pass by an empty room and he yanks him in. 

“What did I do?” he asks again. Almost begging, feeling that sharp prickling behind his throat ascend to the back of his nose and then his eyes, watery.

“Tell me. I want to fix it.” And he can’t help it when his desperation leaks through, if he sounds like he’s begging, because he is. There is no doubt in that. 

Tony has somehow become the single most important person in his life after he’d given up and accepted that nothing is permanent; after he was robbed 70 years of his life, after he’d lost everything he’d known and was asked to start over and he had been so lost.

He was so hateful; he was so done with everything, numb to the world, apathetic, except for Tony Stark who just couldn’t stop bothering him and time after time managed to rile him up something different. He hated Tony too, once upon a time.

Then things changed. 

Out of all those angry snipes, and jibes, something pure blossomed. They became friends, and it’s the most hard earned relationship in the entirety of Steve’s life, he doesn’t want to lose it. He refuses to lose it. 

Even if this ship wants to go down, even if Tony is adamant to burn it to the ground, Steve will single-handedly fight him for it. 

He can’t lose this. He can’t lose Tony. He loves them too much; loves Tony too much, and he knows how Tony has tendencies to sabotage himself, self destruct in the process, but Steve won’t let him destroy this. Won’t let him destroy them.

He'd already fought himself - burnt his own illicit desires to keep them alive - and he can do it again. 

“Let me fix it.”

Tony’s eyes seem to soften marginally before they harden and he bodily slams Steve up against the wall. Everything happens so quickly then forth that Steve's first conscious thought is: Is he kissing me?

But that’s too late because Tony’s already pulling away; hands still fisted around Steve’s collar, head hung low, hair brushing the front of Steve’s shirt and he exhales, “I can’t,” broken and raw.

Still shaken, Steve reaches to hold Tony’s arm to ground himself, but it only makes Tony flinch and step away from him. One second, he’s a flash of pain and the next, it's cold indifference.

“This is why,” he states, turning away from Steve. “I need time to fix me.”

Frowning, Steve tips his head sideways and asks, “Why?”

Tony’s head whips around to face him, “Why?” he asks back, scandalised, “I just jumped you, you blonde idiot. I’m in love with you! You want friendship while I want to fuck you and then take you out on dates and do that over and over for everyday of my life and Steve. I want to see your face the first thing in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,”

“But you are the reason why,” Steve interrupts, stepping away from the wall, into Tony’s space. “You make me smile, you make me laugh -,”

“As a friend!” Tony steps back. “You want me to be your friend.”

When Steve shakes his head and says, “I didn’t say that,” Tony stops. 

“What?” he blurts out, brown eyes blinking wide in surprise. Steve's own chest is blooming hopes like daisies in spring. 

“I love you,” he tells Tony, first and foremost. Because that, is the truth. And important. Then, “All those things you said? Tony. I want them too. I've been wanting them for a very long time. But I need you in my life in whatever way I can have you and if it would only be as my friend, then I was happy to accept it. But, Tony. Trust me. I do. I do want everything with you. And more."

And Tony, he takes in a shuddering breath, leaning into Steve, speechless with his face cradled in Steve’s hands; soft and gentle. Listening to him say, “Don’t fix yourself, Tony. You’re perfect as you are,” - And the part of him he’s been trying to rip off from weeks ago; the part of him that’s so attached to Steve, that needs him every second of the day to breathe, that loves him so bad, pushes him forward and makes him taste those words from Steve’s lips.

Kisses him hungry, yearning and when he’s running out of breath, he pulls back, realises he’s practically wrapped around Steve but doesn’t care. He asks, “Do you want to do this?”

In answer, Steve kisses him back; deep, walking them until Tony’s back hits the wall, head cushioned under Steve’s palm, fingers twining through his hair and he licks into Tony’s mouth, whispers his firm ‘yes’ in there and everywhere over Tony’s face. 

[baby-grayson]

Sweet Engima

Words: 5.3k Tags: @wheezeatmedolans​ @styles-dolan​ @prettyboydolan​ @evergreendolan​ @baby-turtles​ @dolanstacoma​ @kombuchagray​ @not-gbd​ @graysavant​ @someonetogray​ @dolansficsandpics​ @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high​ @crossedbone-kat​ @graysonsdollface 

tw: hospitals, injuries, anxiety, police, mental health, bullying, alike topics

“It’s been paid for,” the airport garage attendant said, “By a Mr. Dolan.” Kate stood in front of a plump man, wearing the frizzy hair and red eyes that come with a cross country flight. “Oh,” she stuttered, “So I can just go—go to my car?” When the man nodded, Kate picked up her backpacks from the floor of the airport garage and walked aimlessly, trying to find a clue in her memory as to where she and Grayson had left her car.

Being back in California felt surreal. When she made it to her car, throwing her bags in the trunk and sitting in the driver’s seat. She took, what felt like, her first breath in weeks. She looked to the passenger’s side, seeing the image of the 200-lb heartthrob that once sat next to her. She felt older: aged by the stress, inconsistency, and weight of what she would claim was the past few weeks, but deep down she knew it was the gravity of the past year.

Arriving at the apartment, she felt half asleep as she slugged herself up the steps and to her front door. She stopped, staring at her front door. It was ajar and not locked. She asked herself if she forgot to lock it but then remembered that it was actually Wesley who was last here. She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to give him his stuff back when she wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and pushed it open.

She stood in the door frame, wide eyed and dry mouthed.

It was a wreck.

Her entire place was a wreck.

Her Ikea couches had been shredded, bits of cushion and fluff spilling out onto her rug that also wore broken shards of her coffee table. Her wall of pictures was covered in shreds, while confetti ,made from the faces of her loved ones, decorated the floor. Her kitchen cabinets were open, spilling over with things. Her house plants had been broken and dirt stained the floor of her apartment.   She froze, not knowing how to move. She slumped one backpack down, hearing it hit the floor. She licked her top lip, trying to wet her heavy mouth. Her bottom jaw clattered as she took a step forward, her eyes still struggling to fully draw in the details of the moment.

She stepped over the threshold and noticed them. A thousand little notes written on posts its, receipts, the edges of notebook paper, newspapers, and napkins. She saw the first one and drew back. She swung her head around and read a second, hissing in a breath. Her breath turned shaky as her eyes darted between them: not feeling safe in her own home.

Slut.

Whore.

Homewrecker.

Fat Hoe.

Big nosed side hoe.

Clout Chaser.

He was Sherry’s.

He was going to be married.

Snake.

Cripple.

She took a step, nearly falling over on a large piece of a broken shoe stand. In a swift motion, she lunged herself over the threshold and slammed the door behind her. She fell against the wall next to her door. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and debated who to call first: Grayson or the police.

Grayson got there a few minutes after the first officer. When he parked his Tesla, Kate was slumped against the front door to her building looking up at the officer with a note pad, her back packs were thrown against the asphalt. Her eyes were puffy and red as she wiped a hand across her face and up through her hair. Grayson remained seated in the car, feeling helpless until another cop car pulled up. He waited until the officer by Kate walked away to greet the other car before climbing out of the Tesla and heading over to her.

She held her hands on her elbows while she leaned against the door, shaking slightly. She looked up at him through heavy lashes. Her words got stuck when they caught in her throat. She was ripped at every edge, scared small and quivering, but she was a masterpiece, her golden flecks shining in a thin layer of wet with her lips red from biting them and her petite frame accentuated in her slump.

Grayson lost all words. He wrapped both arms around her in a warm, snug embrace. He brought her head into his shoulder and gently placed a loving hand on the back of her hair. He felt a few tears soak into the sleeve of his shirt. He kissed the top of her head and mumbled, “bunny…”

When Kate looked up from her place on his shoulder, Grayson’s face was turned down. He had no words to give her, no advice to share, and no action to take. Instead, he settled on pulling her tighter and not leaving her side for the next two hours: while police officers came and went, taking shards of pots, broken plates, and notes away in sealable bags.  

While she retold her story again and again and stuttered through the list of people who might do such a thing, all of which fueled by the latest development of Grayson in her life, Grayson never left her side. He held her close in their private moments, as if cuddling her head into his chest would protect her beautiful mind from the toxic chaos of the moment; when he couldn’t manage that, he reached down and took her delicate hand in his large one, squeezing it occasionally. Was it so she could feel his presence, or he could feel hers? He felt like crying, his eyes ached with soreness from holding back tears of anger. He shook, physically tremoring with the knowledge that he might have influenced someone to do such a wretched thing to his angel: one of the only good things about his life.

Grayson’s psyche was scarred with the paranoia of his stalker episode a few years prior: not even the skillful approach of an expert therapist could not permanently remove the edge he felt when it came to the public. Sometimes at night, he would lay awake and replay that night: being in the backyard with Ethan and Cameron. Ethan’s face dropping at the sight of a body in their kitchen, a body that wasn’t Ryan or Kristina or Kyle; Cameron’s assertive resolve as she marched out of the pool and nearly broke the sliding door when she stomped into the kitchen; the echo of her voice as she demanded people; the image of Ethan calling the police next to him.

Some memories aren’t memories: their primordial haunts that only exist to remind us that we are human.

But Kate was more than a human to him. To Grayson, Kate was angelic, representing something happy and right in his ever so mixed up world. He dreamed of the day he could take her away from this place: not just that scene, but all the worst parts of his life, and make a life with her. Grayson had longed believed there was someone, or something, watching out for him, he was far too stupid to have made it this far on luck, and he was convinced, feeling it deep in his bones, that celestial being handpicked Kate to remind Grayson of the best things in life.

When Kate looked up at him from her place in his chest, while the last of the squad cars rolled away, her voice choked on her words “What am I supposed to do?”

Grayson’s bones shook. His brain felt so saturated with dark clouds, it pressed against his skull and panged in his head. His heart wanted to rip through his chest, searching for air in a breathless fog. He gritted his jaw, on the verge of his own breakdown he tightened his arms around her, causing her lips to curl from where he pressed her against his chest.

Thank God his Tesla could drive itself: Grayson could barely keep his foot on the gas pedal as his body shook. Despite his best efforts, tears started to roll down his face. Kate pulled her sweatshirt around her body, comforted by the warm feeling of being engulfed in something.

Kate silently made a quick run to the shower when the Tesla parked at Grayson’s house. She made quick work of tearing off her clothes, turning on the jets, and sitting on his bench as the water rolled off her skin: praying that the water could wash her inside of the memories of that afternoon.

Grayson’s face was red and puffy. His knuckles were white as he grabbed a bottle of water from the counter. He held it above his head and chugged, droplets spilling off the corners of his mouth. He crushed it in his fist and forcibly threw it into the trashcan. A concerned Ethan tentatively stepped out of his room and lingered in the kitchen doorway. Grayson hadn’t told him he left; Ethan only noticed Gray’s Tesla gone from the driveway. If it wasn’t for the thud of the water bottle in the trashcan, Ethan wouldn’t have known Grayson was home.

“What’s going on?” Ethan’s voice was shaky as his looked down at his brother’s feet and then back up. Grayson reminded Ethan of the last time he saw his favorite childhood teddy bear. The teddy bear was covered in stains of dirt, food, and bodily fluids from traveling everywhere with Ethan. Besides Gray, that teddy was a young Ethan’s best friend. The last time Ethan saw teddy was when their father carried its remains into a shoebox after accidentally running over it in the driveway, where Ethan had left it one afternoon when it started raining. The teddy that was once shiny, cuddly, and soft was crushed to the point of bare threads, overflowing stuffing, and rocks embedded in its surface: that was what Grayson looked like to Ethan in that moment.

Grayson nearly tore the refrigerator door off of its hinges, searching for something to pile into his mouth, “Someone got into her place,” he went to open a drawer but instead took it off of its tracks. He grunted, nearly growling at the plastic bin and trying to shove it back into its place in the fridge, “They broke—they ransacked the fucking place Ethan—not even her house—notes” He slammed the door shut and put his hands on his hips, his bottom lip curled into his mouth as he stared at the refrigerator drawer that was passively sitting on the kitchen counter. His eyes stalked up to meet Ethan’s, “You want to know what they were fucking saying about her?”

Ethan didn’t need to ask who the “her” was in the situation. He put a familiar hand on Grayson’s back, feeling his relax every so slightly at his touch. Ethan sucked in a breath and played with his mouth. Grayson sighed, putting his hands on the counter and bending forward for support. “We’re gonna get through this man,” Ethan mumbled, “like we always do.”

“I don’t know how man,” Grayson raised his thumbs from where they held the edge of the counter, “You weren’t there—you didn’t see—”

“Gray,” Ethan’s tone was paternal, “there is no other choice, this is gonna work out. But it’s not gonna work itself out by you standing here and assaulting our kitchen.”

Grayson stood up, pushing Ethan back as he let go of the counter, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Go to her,” Ethan raised his voice slightly, he gestured an arm outward in the direction of Grayson’s bedroom, “Be there for her.”

Grayson stalked into his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. He heard the drum of the shower hitting the tile in his bathroom, deciding now was not the time to replay their rendezvous from a few weeks ago. He fell back, his comforter fluffing up around his head. His spine decompressed but his soul remained tense.

He picked his head up when the door to his bathroom opened to reveal Kate’s figure surrounded in a ginormous fluffy towel, as some steam filtered in behind her. Grayson sat up as she moved to sit on his lap, adjusting her towel around her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he brought her closer to him. She thumbed his shoulder, her hair dripping water in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was low and heavy with regret.

She didn’t meet his eyes. “You didn’t do anything Grayson.” “Yes, I did,” he sighed, “I did so much.” He winced, as if he was in pain, “I should have never—I should have never done it like this.” He bit his lip, “If I was unhappy—I should’ve—I should’ve—dealt with my relationship first and found you second. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up and now I—” “Shh,” she was calm, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Yeah,” she talked with her lips millimeters away from his skin, “You could have done a lot better. But there’s no changing the past, only doing better tomorrow.”

She pulled back, meeting his eyes now, “And Grayson—don’t apologize for—that, back there. That wasn’t you, you didn’t—you didn’t do that.” Her fingers interlocked with his, she squeezed his hand, “Once upon a time, you gave me this big apology about how you didn’t handle bringing me into your life correctly. Well-“ she sighed, “I wasn’t perfect back then either.” She flicked her teeth against her bottom lip, “I had a problem—separating you from, from your fans. But I get it now, at least I think I get it better, what I’m trying to say is,” she took a breath, “You didn’t do that to my apartment, you didn’t cause that. If someone was—if someone was that unstable and that irrational—they would have done that, whether to me, or to someone else. Am I explaining myself right here? I just—You didn’t do that to me, but you can—you can help me heal from it.” For nearly the hundredth time that afternoon, she pressed her head to his shoulder, her hair soaked a circle into his shirt.

Grayson took in a deep breath, trying to let Kate’s words absolve his guilt but feeling worse when no internal resolution came. “I just—” he wanted to say he loved her, he wanted desperately to say he loved her but everything about the moment betrayed him, “I—I want you back in my life, you are back in my life, and I want to do everything I can to keep you safe, to see you happy.” Kate lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. He found serenity in her features, in seeing those big brown eyes look up at him. Grayson thumbed her skin, feeling it soft and supple under his torn-up thumb. Her words penetrated his heart, “You do make me happy.”

Grayson’s features melted into a sad image of relief, “I do? Do I really?” His lion heart gave way to a series of insecurities and inner turmoil.

Kate nodded softly, she squeezed his hand and brought it up, between their chests, “You do make me happy. And I want to—I want you to keep making me happy. I want this,” she squeezed his hand again, “To be normal. I want us to—to---to---to go on dates and to watch movies and to—to be normal. Because I think that you and I can be something, something real. But you can’t expect this to be perfect until its balanced.” “Balanced,” Grayson repeated the word: one of the only things’ money couldn’t buy him. He sighed. “Yeah, balance,” Kate kissed his cheek, “It’ll come with time, once our lives get settled,” she squeezed his hand, “once we get settled together.”

“Are you saying that you’re giving me a chance? Because I swear, if you are,” Grayson’s eyes turned down at the corners, “I won’t screw it up, I promise. You’re too good for me as it is, and if normal is what you want, normal is what you get. I’ll give you the best normal that anyone ever knew. I want you to be happy, I want to give you everything I absolutely can because after everything I’ve brought into your life, I feel like I’ll never stop saying I’m sorry.” He bit his tongue from exposing his feelings once again.

Kate shook her head, “Don’t ever say you’re sorry. At least, not to me for what you did.” She sighed and eyed the way he slouched and the wrinkled forming in the corners of his eyes, “If you didn’t do what you did,” she shrugged, “Maybe we never would have met again. So maybe we’re the silver lining in…everything.”

***

The night and next day floated by with Kate on the phone with the LA County Sheriff’s Department, her grandmother, and her boss and the twins running around in preparation for their bathbomb launch, despite the chatter on twitter than the launch was perfectly timed amid Grayson’s scandal. Grayson stopped at Monty’s to pick up burgers and shakes for Kate, driving home in the middle of the day for lunch. If it was anyone else, he would have been grossed out, but he thought the way she dipped her fries into her vanilla shake was adorable.

“How’s work going?” she licked the shake off the side of a fry before using a finger to push it in her mouth.

Grayson shrugged while chewing a bite of his vegan burger, “It’s hectic. Everything is ready for the sale, but last-minute details about the boat.” “The boat?” Kate sucked on her shake through a straw, her lips puckering around the edge of the tube. Grayson shifted his gaze away from her mouth and wiggled in his seat, “The launch party, remember I told you about how Kevin wanted to do a little celebration with us and the team? Some good promo but also a team dinner?” Kate shook her head, “You never told me about that.” She knitted her brow, “How long have you been working on that?” “Like six months, you sure I never told you?”

Kate shrugged, “Maybe we were too busy nearly committing bigamy.”

Grayson chortled so loud he spit out a piece of his vegan burger, he coughed and brought a napkin to his mouth. He wagged a finger in her direction, “That was—that was funny.” Kate responded with a proud smile.

Grayson used a napkin to wipe food from his chest, “Well I put you on the guest list, kinda assumed you’d be my plus one,” he took a sip, “You know, my little arm candy.” His wink elicited a giggle from Kate.

“Me? A party?” She placed the sandwich down on the counter. “I’m a socially awkward little nerd.”

“You’re my socially awkward little nerd.” Grayson leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek, smiling onto her skin.

Kate shook her head, “What am I supposed to wear?” Her tone was slightly incredulous: parties, truly, were never her scene. Something about large groups of people intimidated her, there was something so anonymous and nothing intimate about large gatherings. Grayson swallowed a bite of sandwich, “Something pretty, whatever you have is fine I’m sure.” He washed it down with more shake, “You’re always beautiful anyway,” he leaned across to kiss her cheek again. “Hey,” her tone held warning, “You’re not allowed to do that all the time,” she held out a finger and Grayson gave her a cheeky grin. “Besides,” she continued, “I don’t have anything to wear. Grayson, I’ve been living off the same three pairs of pants and two sweatshirts since we left for Jersey.”

“I can have something delivered, “Grayson wiped his face with a napkin, “I’ll order something.”

Parties made Kate uncomfortable. She was further reminded by this fact when made it to the boat in the LA harbor. Grayson’s assistant had driven her because the twins were bouncing across sides of the boat, trying to get everything ready to set sail. She smoothed out the edges of her black dress, that clung a little tighter than she would like—probably chosen purposely on Grayson’s part—and tentatively walked into the main room.

Everyone was in heels, even some of the men. Big heels. Chunky heels. Tall heels. Wide heels. Kate sighed and brought her toes together in her ballet flats. Her condition made walking in flats hard. To her, heels were an obtainable elegance. A signal that she was not physically built for the world she was about to enter with Grayson.

She found a chair at the side of the room and sat quietly, eyeing different faces she didn’t recognize. Something paranoid buzzed inside of her, when she began to wonder if the polite chatter people were whispering around her was about her and Grayson. She swallowed hard and sat back in her seat.

The boat lurched as it left the harbor, bobbing everyone with it. A catering team put out finger foods as the night was ready to begin. Kate stayed in her seat, searching faces in the archways for signs of Grayson.

On the other end of the boat, Ethan was turning a corner as they set sail. He rocked, “woah,” and held out a hand to steady himself. “I’m so sorry,” he looked up at the person his hand landed on, “Sherry?” Ethan’s mouth hung open. In front of him was none other than Sherry Maddox: dressed in a form fitting teal number with shiny, dangling earrings, and strappy blue shoes. Her blonde hair wore a perfect, effortless blow out. He searched her up and down, as if she was going to phase into the ocean mist around him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” her words were sure. She blinked her eyes quickly, her fake lashes dancing like feathers. Ethan looked around, wondering if he was so stressed that he was seeing things. In the frenzy of the past few weeks, no one thought to disinvite Sherry from the night. Ethan stammered for words, “Oh”

Sherry gave him a sickeningly sweet smile, “Good to see you again Ethan.”  As if on cue, Sherry stepped away from their exchange at the exact moment Ethan’s assistant called out to him to come to the main room. Ethan shuffled away, dizzied from what just happened.

He landed in a seat next to his brother, who sat next to Kate at their table. Kate went pale and dry to see Sherry slink against the back wall of the room. Until that moment, Sherry was nothing but a face in the tabloids to Kate. Seeing her in person, sent knots into her stomach and soul. Kate’s bottom jaw stammered as a chill went through her spine. “What’s wrong?” Grayson knitted his brow together when he saw the color leave her face. When Kate didn’t answer, he followed her gaze to the other side of the room and immediately shot out with, “What’s she doing there?” From next to him, Ethan piped up, “We never took her off the list.” His voice was grim, “Don’t worry about it Gray, she probably just wants to be photographed her peacock costume,” Kate chuckled at his last remark.

At exactly 9PM, Ethan stood up, taking to the front of the room to grab a microphone, “Hello? Is this on? Hello! I just wanted to thank everyone for coming, and for everything you do for our team. I couldn’t ask for better—” he continued his speech thanking his team. From across the room, his assistant snapped pictures of him at the microphone.

While Ethan talked, Grayson shifted in his seat, trying to find some level of comfort with Sherry in the room. He looked at Kate, “You look beautiful.” He placed his hand in her lap to hold her delicate fingers. She smiled up at him, “Thanks.” He leaned over to kiss the top of her head, “There is no one else I’d rather have next to me.” She smiled brightly under his lips. She moved to say something but was interrupted by Grayson standing up to switch places with Ethan at the microphone.  As Ethan sat down, Kate leaned, “you think I can go,” she pointed to the back of the room, “back there to take some pictures of him.” Ethan gave her a sure nod.

Grayson started his remarks while Kate quickly floated to the back of the room to start snapping proud pictures of him. His voice filled the room, “And I think the choices we made to include in this launch are special, they mean something to all of us,” he listed their scents, “Compassion, Creativity, Energy, Family, and Love. Funny thing about Love, I designed it after someone who means so much to me, I wanted it to always remind me of the person who taught me what love is. Because before her, I met a lot of girls and I thought I was ready to be serious about them: but she taught me what it’s like to know someone belongs in your life and put the energy into making them the center of your life. Kathleen Walker, I don’t know what I would do with you.”

Tears welled up in Kate’s eyes, who had given up on taking blurry pictures and resolved on taking a video. As unperfect as Grayson and her were, there was something between them that only the lucky ones get to feel.

Grayson continued his speech, moving to thank every member of their team individually.

From Ethan’s seat, he looked for Kate in the crowd but couldn’t find her. An instinct ringing inside of him, he quietly stood up from his seat and sauntered to the back of the room.

At the edge of the boat, a loud foghorn sounded as the bow cut through ocean waves like butter. Kate struggled, screaming and questioning and crying out. But Sherry Maddox was white with anger. As if being publicly embarrassed by the love of her life wasn’t enough, she was forced to sit and listen to her ex-fiancé flaunt the fact that his “love” product was formulated in the image of another woman.

Kate didn’t feel Sherry push her.

She didn’t feel her feet leave the ground.

She screamed into the night until her scream was muffled by the splash of her body hitting the water.

Her black dress floated around her, blending her in the nighttime water. She was never a very strong swimmer: but what she could do was reduced to nearly nothing after the accident. Despite her best pushes, she could barely keep her head above water.

She was started to lose consciousness as she bobbed, a victim of the rough waves.

Ethan didn’t understand what he saw. He didn’t have time to process what he saw. He threw off his jacket and shoes and swan dived down into the water. With his pants and shirt soaked, he pulled Kate’s limp body toward him and, with the help of a deckhand, pulled himself back onto the boat.

As soon as the pair were back on a solid surface, the deckhand and Ethan’s assistant were surrounding them with towels and blankets. Their lips turned purple as they shivered, two wet trembling bodies in the night. On the other side of the deck, a radio rang out that the boat was returning to harbor for an emergency.

It was Grayson who insisted Kate be brought to the emergency room. He angrily rambled about her swallowing water or getting hypothermia. If it wasn’t for her exhaustion, she could have calmed him, but instead she laid as a limp body on a triage table with Grayson sitting in the corner of the room.

Kate was still wearing her soaking wet dress; her flats had been lost to the Pacific Ocean. Her hair had been messily pinned up by a borrowed clip from Grayson’s assistant. On the boat, Grayson gave her his suit jacket to help with the shivering. She gave blood, peed in a cup, and took a concussion test upon arriving at the hospital.

“Hi Miss Walker,” a peppy nurse stepped through the door, “I’m Tammy. I’m a nurse here.” She shot Kate a warm smile, “I’m just going to ask you a few questions and then check you out and hopefully we can send you right home.”

Kate nodded weakly in response, having met no less than four other Tammy’s that night.

Tammy perched on a stool with wheels and opened a folder. “Any chance you could be pregnant?”

“No.”

“Any family history of cancer?”

“Yes- my mother.”

“Any issues breathing-shortness of breath?”

“No.”

“Have you been out of the country recently?”

“No.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’m just going to take your blood pressure and then check your throat, just in case you swallowed any water, and you two should be good to go.”

Tammy was almost too happy to Velcro a blood pressure cuff around Kate’s arm and pump the balloon. Kate leaned against the wall and stared at Grayson, who had bags forming under his eyes. Neither of them said it, but they both longed for the warm, comfortable, familiar cuddle of Grayson’s bed.

“Say ahh,” Kate opened her mouth for Tammy to put her tongue compression in and shine a light in the back of her throat, “Good news, doesn’t seem to be any salt damage.” Tammy removed the compressor and went to write in her chart, “But I would still recommend some tea with honey, just in case you get uncomfortable.” Tammy closed the manilla folder, “Alright folks, I’ll check with the doctor on your other tests Ms. Walker but I think you should be good to go.” “We can leave?” Grayson didn’t mean to sound brusque or rude, but he was too tired, angry, and anxious to try and be polite.

“Let me check with Dr. Ocasio and I’ll be right back to let you know,” Tammy shot Grayson a customer-service smile before shutting the door behind them.

The fluorescent lights flickered as an LA siren sounded in the distance. Grayson’s heart broke to look at her like that: wet, sad, and hurt. Everything in him wanted to do something but found no action. He wondered if the best thing for Kate, was for him to leave her life—to leave her in peace. He shook that thought away, telling himself he was just tired, before closing his eyes and thinking about holding her in his bed later that night.

Before the thought could sweetly settle in his mind, Tammy popped her head in the door, “Oh-uh—Mr.Dolan, could you come with me for a moment? There is some—uh—paperwork, that you need to sign as her attendant.”

Grayson reluctantly stood up and followed Tammy, the first time he was leaving Kate’s side since running across the boat to be with her a few hours earlier.

Nearly seconds after Grayson departed, a wrinkly Hispanic man with salt and pepper hair gently opened the door to Kate’s triage room, “Miss Walker,” his voice was warm, comforting to her, “I’m Dr. Ocasio, pleased to meet you.” He shook her hand.

“Am I okay to go home doctor?” Under normal circumstances, Kate knew to not rush doctors, but the urgency of the night and the call of Grayson’s bed overwhelmed her. The doctor sat on the same stood Tammy took early. He nodded, “You are fine. You didn’t sustain any injuries from your little fall tonight.”

Kate stood up, “Thank you.” She stepped back when the doctor continued to talk. “However,” his elderly voice quivered, “I am afraid that your answers to some of our questions didn’t align with our test results for you.” Kate furrowed her brow, too exhausted and overwhelmed to try to put together any puzzle pieces.

“Miss Walker,” the doctor’s tone was light, as if addressing a child, “I feel obliged to tell you that—you’re pregnant.”