#I think I've been an idiot. and I can barely even ask God for help. for reasons I don't even totally understand.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

..

[canirove]

Kenan Yildiz Imagine

Author’s note: I said to myself that I wasn't going to write for anyone younger than Pedri, but I liked this request I got on Wattpad because I myself got a wisdom tooth removed this summer, and even though I've never heard of this player before, my youngest cousin follows him on Instagram and I said to myself, he can't be that bad 😅 So... yeah. Something hopefully cute where I've written a bit about my own experience getting a wisdown tooth removed, but with the addition of a cute guy taking care of the reader 😁 Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

“There you are” Kenan smiles as I leave the dentist’s office. “How are you feeling? Are you ok? They took their time, didn't they? I know it was just a wisdom tooth and that it was in a weird position, but I hope nothing bad happened, because I've read some things and… What are you doing?” he asks me as I move my hand in the air. “I don't understand. Are you ok? Are you in pain? Fainting? Should I call someone for help?”

“Bloody hell” I say to myself while rolling my eyes and trying to snatch my bag from his arm.

“Oh, you wanted this! Sorry, babe” he chuckles as I take it and struggle to open it with one hand, the other holding an ice pack to my face. “Here, let me help you” he says, finally doing something useful and opening my bag for me while I get my phone and start typing. “I can't talk yet. And don't call me babe” he reads when I show him what I typed. “Oh, sorry. Are we allowed to go home? Cool” Kenan says when I nod. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“So…” Kenan says once we make it to my place and I let myself fall on the sofa. “What can I do for you? More ice?”

“Here” I whisper, giving him the list with all the things my dentist suggested. 

“Lots of ice to avoid swelling and bruising, eat ice cream, ice lollies, and nothing hot, just soft foods, a bunch of medicines… Ok. Can I leave you alone for a bit while I go buy it all or would you prefer it if I stayed and gave you some cuddles?” he says, kneeling next to me and gently caressing my head when I lay down. 

“You can go. I think I'm gonna take a nap” I whisper again, barely able to open my mouth.

“Perfect. I'll be as fast as I can, ok?”

“Maybe not too fast. I don't want you having an accident or something.”

“Just a bit quick, then” he smiles, kissing my forehead and leaving. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Honey, I'm home! Shit, maybe I shouldn't have been so loud, you said you were going to take a nap and… Oh my God, babe. What happened? Why are you crying?” Kenan says, throwing away the bags he was carrying and running towards me.

“It hurts” I sob, sitting up. “It hurts so much.”

“Urgh, I'm so sorry” he says before hugging me. “I should have been back earlier, but there were so many people everywhere, both in the shops and on the road…”

“My medicine?”

“I got it, don't worry. Why don't I make you something to eat so you can take it, uh?”

“Please. I'm starving.”

“Ok” he smiles.

“Kenan!” I yell when he touches my cheek. “That hurts!”

“Sorry, I'm sorry” he apologizes. “I didn't realise and… I'm sorry.”

“Now it is even worse because I hurt myself when I yelled at you!” I cry. 

“I'm so so sorry. I'm an idiot.”

“Yes, you are!”

“I'm sorry” he says once again. “I'm gonna make you something to eat, ok? Something soft and cold. A sandwich, perhaps?”

“Ok” I nod, laying down again and curling myself into a ball, the pain being almost unbearable since besides feeling it all over my mouth, it has moved up to my ear for whatever the reason.

“Your lunch, my lady” Kenan says, joining me again on the sofa a few minutes later. “A sandwich made with the softest bread, jam and cheese. Do you want me to cut it for you so it is easier to eat?”

“Please” I whisper, sitting up again.

“I've also brought you some cold water to drink. It may feel nice.”

“Thank you” I say, trying to smile. But even that hurts. “Oh, c'mon!”

“What happened?”

“I can't drink” I say, looking down at my wet t-shirt and starting to cry again. 

“It is just water, babe. It's ok” he says, wiping away my tears and cleaning my chin with a napkin. “Here, have a bite.”

“Thank you” I sob. 

“What happened now? Is it because I called you babe?” Kenan asks me when I start crying again. “I'm sorry, I know you don't like it, but…”

“Chewing hurts!”

“Ok, umm… Do you want some ice cream instead?”

“What ice cream did you buy?”

“Your favourite, of course” he smiles. “Stracciatella.”

“I can't eat that, Kenan! It has bits of chocolate!”

“Oh, shit. That's true. I… I'm so sorry. I…”

“This is the worst thing ever!” I cry, laying down again. “I'm useless!”

“Hey, no. You are the strongest person I know. You can and will survive this, you hear me?”

“I won't” I whisper.

“You will” he says, getting up from the sofa and leaving me alone while I just cry. Though while I do it, I can hear him talking to himself on the kitchen, opening and closing drawers and the fridge a few times. “Ok, let's try this.”

“What?” I say, wiping away my tears and looking at him as he sits down again.

“Yogurt. You don't have to chew it and it is soft and cold. It is perfect! Now, open your mouth.”

“Are you seriously going to feed me as if I was a baby?”

“Well, you are my baby even if you hate it when I call you babe” he smirks.

“Idiot” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“C'mon, let's start just with a tiny bit” Kenan says.

“Fine” I sigh, opening my mouth as much as I can without hurting myself too much.

“And?”

“It's ok.”

“Another one?”

“We are gonna be here until tomorrow if you plan on making me eat all of that like this.”

“I don't have anything else to do, so” he shrugs, giving me another tiny spoonful. “Besides, even if I did, there is nothing more important than taking care of you.”

“Aww, Kenan… If pouting didn't hurt, I would give you a kiss.”

“We'll save it for when you can, then” he winks. “C'mon. Eat this so you can take your pills and sleep for a bit.”

“Ok. I love you, you know?”

“I know. I love you too” he smiles.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Oh my God!” 

“What? What happened? Please tell me your teeth aren't falling off” Kenan says, walking into the bathroom.

“What?” 

“It can happen, you know? I saw this Tiktok and…”

“It can't. Don't believe everything you read or see online, especially on Tiktok. And why are you covering your eyes?”

“In case there is blood. You know I struggle with that.”

“There is no blood” I sigh, looking at myself in the mirror. “Though since I look like a monster, maybe you should keep your eyes covered.”

“A monster? What do you mean?”

“Look” I say, turning around. “I look like Yennefer before she became pretty.”

“What?” Kenan chuckles.

“Look!” I say again, pointing at my cheek. “My face is so swollen and bruised that it is as if I've grown another chin or something!”

“Yesterday you got a wisdom tooth removed, babe. That is normal, the dentist said it.”

“This isn't normal. I look so horrible” I say, starting to cry again.

“You could never look horrible” he says, closing the space between us and hugging me. “Ever, you hear me? And this will go away in a couple of days and you'll be back to being Yennefer the hot witch.”

“You know who she is?”

“I've watched “The Witcher” too” he shrugs. “And the only thing that matters now is that you properly recover and aren't in pain. And maybe that your teeth don't fall off.”

“What… Idiot” I say again, rolling my eyes when I see him smirking.

“How are you feeling?” he says, moving to look at me and gently caressing my other cheek, the one that doesn't look like… like whatever the other does.

“A bit sore, but it isn't as bad as yesterday.”

“Good” he smiles, wiping away some of my tears. “So, what do you want to have for breakfast? I thought I could smash some fruit and mix it with the yogurt. Or maybe try with an omelette? I texted my mum yesterday while you were sleeping and she gave some ideas.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah” he says with a shy smile. “I want to take care of you, help you feel better and recover. So I may or may have not spent the day doing research.”

“And watching stupid Tiktoks that make you believe my teeth are going to fall off.”

“That too” he chuckles. “Anyway, what does the lady want for her breakfast?”

“Let's try the omelette. I'm tired of eating like a baby.”

“Ok” he smiles. “And stop saying you look like a monster, because you don't, you hear me? You don't.”

“I don't” I sigh. 

“C'mon” he says, kissing my nose and taking my hand on his before we leave the bathroom. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“It's gone!” 

“What?” Kenan yawns.

“The bruise! The swelling! It's all gone, look!” I say, turning on the light.

“Too bright!” he complains, covering his face.

“Kenan, look!”

“Urgh” he says, slowly opening his eyes. “You look as beautiful as you always do.”

“I didn't look beautiful last week and you know it” I say, hitting his arm.

“To me you did” he smiles. “But see how I was right and you just needed to be patient?”

“Yeah… Sorry.”

“It's ok” he says, sitting up in the bed and caressing my cheek. “I've missed doing this and not seeing you wince because it hurts.”

“Same” I smile.

“And it also is nice to not feel my hand getting frozen as I hold an ice pack to it to help you.”

“Next time you get injured I'll do it for you, I promise.”

“Or you could get into an ice bath with me” he smirks.

“Umm… no.”

“Ok” he laughs. “Should we go make us some breakfast?”

“I'll do it. Let it be my thank you for being the best boyfriend ever and taking care of me these days. And for dealing with my changes of mood too.”

“Any time. I love you… babe” he smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“I love you too” I reply, not being able to hide my smile before kissing him. 

[avianyuh]

Deadline; Mark Lee

Summary: You and Mark are coworkers and have a project due by tomorrow morning. But things quickly go off course which leaves the two of you improvising your after work plans.

Office Worker Mark!

Gotta stay focused, I have to stay focused!

This was my only thought. I had a deadline for this project at work and I had barely made a dent in it. My boss, Tim, made it clear to me that I could not leave until this file was fully completed and on his desk. I don't know if it's good or bad that I was working on this with Mark.

Mark has always been my favorite person to talk to at work. He's funny, helpful and not to mention...he's really cute. We've had this back and forth flirting thing going on for over a year now.

So here we were, 6pm, basically no one left at the office, huddled together in my cubicle. We were sitting so close to each other that our knees were touching. But of course, I didn't mind that.

I fiddled with the pen in my hand as I tried not to stare at him.

He had these thin framed glasses on, and he was sitting in his chair, hunched over. His eyebrows were furrowed together, giving off the impression that he was focused on the paper he was working on.

I turned back towards my own papers in front of me. I finished the page in front of me before moving on to the next one. Halfway through skimming it and I realized there was an error. I let out a frustrated sigh, which Mark picked up on.

"What's wrong?", he questioned, looking up from his work in front of him.

"Julia didn't fill this out correctly, the whole thing is wrong."

"Are you serious?", he asked, when I nodded he responded by slamming his fist on the table,"FUCK", he exclamied. Now we were both frustrated.

"Mark, you know what this means right... everything else is wrong. All our work, it's crap". I buried my head in my hands, Mark did the same.

"Well, we're gonna have to tell him", Mark started to talk. I looked up at him, I had an idea of what he was going to say. "We have to tell him that we couldn't complete the file because Julia's a fucking idiot.", I laughed as he finished his sentence. It was even more comical when I noticed he wasn't laughing, he was being serious.

"Mark, you know Julia can do no wrong to management. They love her. Especially Tim."

"Well, it's not our fault. If we start over we'll finish by the time we're supposed to come back tomorrow. Y/n this is two weeks worth of work in this file, there's no way we could finish this", Mark explained.

I knew he was right. There's no way we could finish this file in enough time.

"I feel like we'll get fired if we come in tomorrow morning empty handed...", I said thinking out loud.

"Y/n, I don't about you but me personally? I don't want to work for someone who leaves us here to work all night. We have lives outside of work. I have a dog to go home and feed", I smiled at that. He always talks about his dog and is constantly showing me pictures of him.

"No, I get it. You know what? Let's get out of here and go get a drink or something, unless you have to go home right now?", I asked. I can't believe I even offered in the first place. Mark and I had never hung out with each other outside of the office. We did have each other's phone numbers and we did text quite a bit, but never made any plans.

"What if you just came to my place? I have a bottle of wine in the cabinet.", Mark said. I tried to analyze his tone, but he sounded casual and calm.

"Uh, yeah...sure", I agreed. "Let me just grab my coat...", Oh god, now I was acting awkward.

Pull it together, I thought to myself.

This is what I've been waiting for since I met him. I just hope I don't do anything stupid.

~

By the time we made it inside of his apartment, I felt like the walk over made me break out in a nervous sweat. I was trying to play it cool, act like all I viewed him as was a work friend. Which to the best of Mark's knowledge (hopefully) was all he was picking up on.

His apartment was really nice. His kitchen was small, and you could definitely tell that he loved one sinxe he only had maybe five plates and two cups. One of which was sitting in the sink, waiting to be washed.

He followed my gaze to his lack of dishware and tried to explain, "I don't really host at my place", he let out a light laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a habit of his that he would do when he was nervous.

Wait, is he nervous?

"No, no, it's all good", I reassured him. He scanned the kitchen, most likely thinking about what we were going to be drinking out of. While he was searching in his cabinets for the wine and cups, I continued to look around.

First I greeted his dog, who sat politely at my feet and allowed me to rub his head. Then I looked around at the living room. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a couch, TV, a window overlooking the city, which he had a curtain covering. He had a coffee table that I assumed he ate his meals on since there was no room for a kitchen table. But most importantly, I tried to look around for any indication of a girlfriend. A hairtie, a hoodie, an extra pair of shoes, anything. But nothing seemed off. He truly seemed to be single.

"Aha!", I looked over, smiling and comfortable now that I knew I had no apparent competition.

"You found the wine?" I asked. He looked over at me with this playful expression on his face.

"No, even better, I found some apple juice!"

"Mark", I laughed,"How are we supposed to drink our problems away when we can't get drunk?"

"We pretend", he shrugged as he poured the juice into two plastic cups.

"For you", he said as he handed me my drink. We sat down on the couch.

For awhile, we sat there just talking like we usually do in the office. Though we never met up out of work, we were always in the loop on each other's lives. He'd tell me about his friends and all of the dumb stuff he did with them, which was always entertaining to hear about. We always talked about out families. I had even told him about that horrible blind date my friend set me up on. Conversations always flowed naturally between us and tonight was no exception.

He had just finished telling me this story about his friend who forgot his passport right before they were going to get in their flight. Long story short, his friend tried to sneak past the staff and almost got detained. We were laughing hysterically for what felt like ten minutes but was probably at most two. Then when the laughter died down, Mark started to speak.

"Honestly", he started but cut himself off momentarily to take a sip of his drink, "I hate our job, but I don't want to get fired, cuz then I won't see you as much.", he said, staring at me intently. I waved him off and tried to conceal the fact that I was now blushing. "No I'm serious. You're like, the highlight of that job for me. I hate it but I look forward to going to work everyday cuz I know I'll see you."

"Markkk", I said. I honestly didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure if he was being sweet and sentimental since we were probably going to be getting the boot tomorrow morning, or if he was trying to hint at something more. "You're my favorite thing about work too. I always look forward to seeing you." I responded. He gave me a soft smile, before staring down into his lap.

"Can I tell you something else?" he asked as he looked back up at me.

"Sure", I nodded.

"I hated when you told me about that date you went on. And I wasn't sure why I was so bothered by it..." he scoffed before continuing, "I think it's because I was jealous".

I felt my heart skip a beat. I looked at him with even more intensity than he was giving me moments ago.

"Why were you jealous?"I pressed, trying to play dumb.

"I don't know...I guess it's because I sort of have a thing for you." I noticed that he was avoiding my gaze now. He was looking to the left, near the window.

I figured that it was now or never.

"Well, if we're handing out confessions, I have a thing for you too", I said, not even hiding the blush that by now had spread across both cheeks. We both were quiet for a minute. We just sat next to each other, staring right into each other's eyes. I noticed his were dodging back and forth between my eyes and my lips. But he wasn't making any kind of move and I was getting impatient. So, I grabbed him by the shirt and pressed my lips to his.

I closed my eyes and there we were. My coworker and I who I had had the hots for, basically over a year now. Eventually the kissed became steady. It was hot and sloppy and longing. It was the sexual tension that was being released as our lips collided continuously.

His hands started to travel up and down my body. My hands found their way into his black tresses of hair.

~

Though we did indeed get fired the next morning, we walked out of that building hand and hand. I lost a job but gained a boyfriend and to me that was a pretty fair trade off.

[slayfics]

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fanfic about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter three: You ask Katsuki how his internship is going.

Chapter links

After the sports festival, agencies scouted students who they wanted to offer internships for. Your internship kept you busy, with barely any time to rest.

You couldn't help but wonder how the internships with your other classmates were going. However, even though you had been at U.A. for a while now, you still hadn't made too many close connections with any of your classmates.

It wasn't that you didn't care for them, but everyone seemed to be a bit more extroverted than you and easily talked to one another. You never really found an opening to join in on any conversations unless someone personally asked you something.

This happened far and in between but was usually either Mina or Eijiro. Mina sometimes asks you about trivial things like where you get your accessories. Eijiro sometimes spouted out random words of encouragement at you. His enthusiasm always made you jump.

The only other person you had talked to at all was Katsuki, and that was never during school at all, and like the last two times it only occurred because you'd message him first.

You kind of began to feel like you might be a nuisance since he never messaged you on his own, but having a short amount of downtime you wanted to ask what someone else's internship was like. You opened your phone and messaged Katsuki.

Hey, how is your internship going?

It's fucking crap.

Wow really? You're with Best Jeanist though!

He spends way too long giving me dumb fucking makeovers. It's stupid, I'm not even learning anything.

What! No way makeovers? I want to see!

In your dreams idiot.

Aw fine- at least tell me what he did though!

Fuck no.

Come on, I'm sure it's not that bad.

Fine, only if you promise to stop pestering me about it!

Promise.

He messes with my hair every goddamn day. Taking up time that we could be doing something useful. The worst part is I can't even get this crap out of my hair.

I can help if you want.

Nice try nerd, no way I'm letting you see.

Bakugo I'm sure it's not as bad as you think. Let me help. I won't tell anyone about it.

Do you really think you get this out of my hair?

Yeah, I've got some tricks.

Fine.

Just like the other two times before, Katsuki was at your window shortly. You opened it to let him in and had to immediately cover your mouth to suppress a laugh. Katsuki's hair was slicked straight down with an overwhelming amount of gel in it.

"If you fucking even let out a breath of laughter I'll kill you!" He warned seeing your snickering face.

"Oh my god-," Your sides collapsed while holding in your laughter. "How much damn gel did he use??"

"You see what I'm talking about! This internship is a fucking waste of time!" Katsuki yelled back.

"Yeah this is pretty criminal," You agreed. "Why is he concerned about your hair anyway?" You asked and grabbed a comb, spray bottle, and towel.

"That's what I'm saying! This crap isn't important for hero work! He makes all his sidekicks and interns look like this." Katsuki said and sat on your floor.

You sat behind him and sprayed at his hair to get it wet then rubbed the towel over his hair, "I understand if he wants you to look professional but this completely ruins the rugged sexy look you usually go for," you spoke.

"Hu?" Katsuki exclaimed and turned around to eye for a second.

"Oh uh-," You felt your face get hot for a second. Why the hell did you just say that? "It's just um- every hero has a different look they go for you know? He should respect this isn't you," you said trying to recover from what you just said.

"Yeah, right," Katsuki dropped it and turned back around as you continued to work on his hair. You both sat in silence for as you worked on his hair. The awkwardness that had taken over the room felt suffocating.

"How is your internship going?" Katsuki asked, breaking the unbearable silence.

"Not too bad, I'm learning a lot," You said.

"Tch, must be nice," He grumbled.

"Don't be too upset, this isn't forever Bakugo," You tried to cheer him up. Finally freeing only one strand of his hair. The gel was not giving up.

"I just hate wasting my goddamn time," He said resting his head in his palm as you continued to spray and comb through his hair.

"It might seem like a waste now, but I'm sure in the future at least one thing he taught you will be useful. Besides, Best Jeanist is super popular, and when you're the number one hero it'll be useful to have learned some of his professionalism," You spoke.

"What did you just say?" Katsuki asked, picking his head up from his palm.

"Like repeat all of it? Were you really not listening Bakugo?" You said slightly irritated pulling harder on his hair.

"Nah- Just... ah fuck neverminded," He grumbled, putting his head back to rest on his hand.

"What part? Tell me," You insisted.

"The part about me being the number one hero, you didn't say if you said when," He said. It had been a long time since anyone had accepted his ambition as absolute. When he was a kid his other classmates marveled and said he would be the top hero one day. But as he got older things seemed to change. Even his parents, while they encouraged him, didn't look at him the same as when he was a kid.

"What about it? Isn't that what you're always yelling about?" You asked confused.

"Yeah- well- maybe you're not that stupid after all if you know it's the truth," He said, masking whatever emotion he was truly feeling.

You laughed, "Just make sure not to ever have this hair when you're the top hero alright?" You teased him.

"Because you think it's sexy the other way right?" He teased you back bringing up your earlier remark. Your face flushed and the comb slipped out of your hand landing on the floor. As it did, Katsuki's hair suddenly poofed back up.

"Um- uh- that's not what I said-," You stuttered trying to redeem your embarrassment.

"Save it," Katsuki laughed. "You can't take it back now," He stood up and flashed you a smirk. "Not sure how you did it," He said, running his hands through his now normal hair. "But thanks... or whatever. I gotta get going, see you in class," He said and left through your window.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover @anon-mouse223

[malikselfindulgence]

Could I request a romantic LMK fic/ficlet with RedSon and a female reader asking them for help foguring out demonic self care? Reader is kind of in the same boat as MK where they absolutely just thought they were human and now they’re discovering they’re not and they’re kind of struggling to get used to their new body, in this case grooming wise. I was thinking a bat demon reader struggling to brush their teeth without breaking the toothbrush with their fangs or getting the fur between their new wings brushed because it’s getting matted lol (it’s already hard to get your back it’s super hard when there’s two things in the way). It can be a bit suggestive but it doesn’t have to be.

RED SON X BAT DEMON!READER

A/N: AGHH thank you for the request!!! Literally had sm fun writing this it's such a cool idea >w<!! Also the way you worded the request makes it sound like YOU'RE a bat demon 🤨🤨 lol

Content: negative self-talk from reader at the start, kind of hurt/comfort, ending is suggestive!

Fic under the cut!

You know- you used to think demons were cool. You thought the monkey king's tail was cute, you thought about how convenient it probably was to have those claw-like feet, you thought DBK's horns looked cool [though you'd never say that to his face] and you still think Red Son's bull form is very pretty, fur and hooves and all.

Now, though? Not so much.

You weren't handling the change as well as you thought you would- being struck by the fact that you're not human, not even mortal, wasn't easy on anyone, but you didn't think you'd struggle with your new physical form this much.

While, yes, you looked cooler, you suppose- every new feature came with about a million more hurdles. You thought flying would be pretty neat? Wrong, you can barely stay balanced for over 10 seconds, and you got too air-sick to make use of it's travel anyways. You thought the new big ears were sick? How much do you like them out in public, when there's too many sounds attacking you from every angle, too loud and too overwhelming? And your sense of sight keeps deteriorating- you think you might need glasses now.

You hadn't left the house in a while- a long while, actually. Everything was just too much, and frankly, you were embarrassed being seen stumbling like an idiot in your new form, hunching into yourself at every noise and bright light. You hadn't been checking your phone either- you knew they had questions, you knew they were checking up on you, and it only made you feel more pathetic.

You were at home now, cursing your ancestors and stupid demon blood and stupid fucking bats, trying to wrangle your arm in position to brush out the fur on your back, but your stupid wings kept getting in the way, and you could barely even see in the stupid mirror, and-

You're not sure when you started crying, but you looked down to find teardrops landing on your sink. God, this was ridiculous. This was basic self-care, shouldn't you just figure it out? Demon instincts or whatever? You'd considered asking Red Son for help, and even though you know it's just your insecurities eating away at you, you can't help but be scared that he'd laugh at you-

'CRASH'

You pause, looking through your open bathroom- you think that was your front door. You think someone just busted open your front door. You think someone's currently in your house- you rush to grab a pair of sciccors from your cabinet, ears straining to pick up on the noise outside.

You hear footsteps, some angry mumbling, and your shackles slowly go down- was that...?

"I've called you thirty seven times! Thirty seven! Not that I got worried, but you're not responding to the dragon horse girl either, and I swear on the jade emperor's life if you don't-"

His rant comes to an abrupt stop once he sees you, cheeks still red with tear streaks, hair flat against your head, wings bent awkwardly to cover your sides from view. You smile nervously in an attempt to ease the tension, but it comes out strained.

"R-Red Son! Funny, ah, seeing you here- you could've rang the doorbell, or something-"

He scoffs at your words, walking closer- your wings wrap tighter around you, trying to shield yourself off- you don't want him seeing you like this.

"With how you've been rudely ignoring just about everyone, I wasn't even sure if you were alive, let alone willing to open the door." He hisses out, and although he tries to come off as mean, you can tell he felt on edge, his concern showing in the way his voice cracks at his words, his eyes boring through you. He's waiting for an explanation, but you're not sure you can give one.

"I'm sorry, it's just been- I didn't mean to ignore you as long as I did, really-" you stumble over your words, embarassed and guilty and scared, scared of how he'll react and what he'll say.

His eyes squint at you, his face softening as he takes you in- you look a mess, and as his gaze falls to the broken tooth-brush and tweezers by your sink, the way your fur is dull and matted down, he starts realising that you'd been struggling, and just what you'd been struggling with.

He sighs, slowly stepping closer, his eyes down-cast and worried. He settled his palm over your jaw, thumbing at your cheek to wipe away a tear. "You could've asked me for help, you know." He frowns, gesturing to your state, "There's....specific tools for this kind of thing. You can't just use your usual mortal appliances, they're too frail, and frankly repulsive. They're more likely to make it worse than anything."

You nod to acknowledge his words- you can't even pretend he was being dramatic and snobbish this time, he was right, your toothbrush being enough proof. You feel your frustration settle down into something quiter the longer he stays next to you.

Red Son suddenly pulls away, fire enveloping his form for a brief few seconds- you stand there, confused and wide eyed, as he returns with some form of bag in hand. You're not sure how he managed to get that so fast.

"Well then, up you go." He sets the bag down and shoos you towards the edge of the tub, urging you to sit down. You do so without hesitation, though you raise your brow at him and hum, a little dazed, "Huh?"

"I'll be grooming your fur, of course. As well as trimming your nails- they don't exactly look comfortable." He takes out a fancy looking hairbrush, better-looking tweezers than yours, as well as a few other things you don't recognise. You're still reeling from the fact that he's here, not making fun of you, and now he wants to take care of you?

"Wait," He pauses his movements to look up at you, hair crackling in the air above him, "You...you don't have to do this for me."

You're about to reassure him that you can take care of yourself [despite the fact that you rather evidently need his help] when his finger settles on your lips, shushing you entirely.

"I'm well aware I don't have to do anything, and I'm sure you're aware I wouldn't be caught dead doing something I didn't want to do."

He leans in to peck your forehead, a quiet show of affection to reassure you.

"Now stop with that self-deprecating talk and let me help you, alright?" You nod silently, your ears twitching lightly, and his lips tilt upward just the slightest bit.

Red Son instructs you to turn around so he can start with your wings and back- he handles them with care, especially around the tendons and legions where skin meets bone, the areas sensitive to his touch. His palms and fingerpads are rough, no doubt from all the handi-work he does, and they scratch pleasantly against your skin.

He washes out the areas you couldn't reach no matter how you positioned yourself with a wet rag and water from your tub, making sure they're clean before starting to brush your fur, "hold your left wing for me?"

You find yourself relaxing as time goes on, the rhythmic brushing and untangling soothing your nerves. You can hear Red Son's hair sizzle, his content breathing, the small murmurs he lets out every once in a while, and rather than overwhelm you it comforts you- you feel enveloped in his warmth.

"My mother used to do fur treatment baths for me, when I was little." Red Son starts quietly, his fingers prodding at certain spots on your wings, perhaps checking to see if something's out of place, or perhaps he's just fidgeting.

"I couldn't control my powers, back then, so my fur was always left charred and dry. It was a sensory nightmare for me, honestly. She hated trimming my hooves, though." He laughs a little, lost in a memory, "always said it was beneath her, but the servants could never quite get it right, so she had to until I was old enough to do it myself."

"Do you paint your hooves? Like, with nail-polish?" You wonder aloud, and you feel him smack the back of your head playfully. "Don't ask such ridiculous things."

"You're avoiding the question."

".....well, yes, o-on occasion."

You giggle at his reply- you'd already painted his nails over the course of your sleep-overs, and you were going to abuse the hell out of this new information.

"Speaking of hooves, could you turn around? I'll start trimming your claws, now."

You do as instructed, watching him pick up the tweezers. You hold your hands out on your thighs for him, watch as he eyes them with a thoughtful look. He picks up one of your hands, pressing it against his lips gently before settling it down again. You try to push down the flush rising up your face.

He rubs his thumb over your fingers, separating them so he can work better, the 'snip-snip' echoing through your ears, "I'll leave these behind for you, since sciccors aren't normally strong enough. You have to be careful not to go past this white line here, though, otherwise applying pressure to your claws will be painful"

You nod, a little speechless. It was easier when your back was facing him, but now you can see his face- the focused look in his eye, his pretty lips pursing in concentration, and you feel your chest warm at just how considerate and loving he's being. God, you should've just picked up the phone and called him so much sooner and saved yourself the trouble.

"Hey, Red?" You mumble with a smile, and he hums to show he's listening. "Thank you, for all of this. I love you."

He freezes, refusing to meet your eyes- you try to hold back a snicker, but you can't help yourself. You'd been dating for ages, and yet everytime you said that he got all flustered and shy like a schoolgirl. He grumbles, cheeks tinted pink, "Yeah, don't mention it."

Red Son rises to his full height, taking something you can't really see out of the bag before leaving it on the floor- you really need to look into getting a glasses prescription- grabbing your hand and pulling you upwards, towards your room. Your muscles feel lax and relaxed, and you yawn, realising just how taxing the day was.

"I think you should rest for now- we'll have to go to the market early morning before all the high-quality merch gets sold out." Red Son pushes you into your bed gently, settling down beside you, putting something over your ears. You feel all the overwhelming background noise drown out, leaving your mind fuzzy and....relaxed. You're not anxious anymore- you can't hear the earth buzzing constantly in your head anymore.

"They're noise cancelling headphones- loud sounds tend to...stress me out, sometimes. I have a spare back home, so no need to- mmmfh?!"

You rush forward to kiss Red Son- your wonderful, considerate, stupidly observant boyfriend, who you love so much you can feel it rush through your heart in waves- melding your lips against his. He starts kissing back once his surprise wears off, arms slowly wrapping around you to pull you closer. You feel refreshed, you feel happy and content and loved, and as you pull away you think he can see it in your gaze, because he smiles in relief.

You start peppering his face in kisses and messy smooches- all over his cheeks and jaw and nose, the corner of his lips, the endearing scar on his cheek, making loud kissing noises all the while. He tries to act annoyed, but the way he blushes and leans into you is telling enough.

"Glad to see you back to your old exasperating self."

You push him down onto the mattress, and although he's strong enough to flip you over again, he doesn't, simply laying there and letting you do as you please.

You kiss his jaw and trail down to his neck again, this time slower, paying close attention to the spot between his collarbone and shoulder, fangs just barely grazing the surface of his skin. You feel him gulp against you in anticipation, his eyes following your movements.

"Just let me thank you properly, okay?"

"W-well," his voice is shaky, your hands roaming over his body, claws now freshly-cut and scraping against his skin deliciously, "I suppose I can't say no to that."

[kapposuch]

Domestic!Bad Batch x reader (headcannons)

Warnings: Absolutely none! just utter fluff!

I love these kids, I've adored them since I laid eyes on them and god I want the best for these sweethearts. It's been a long time since I've done anything like this, so if you have constructive criticism for me, please lay it on me! I'd really appreciate it!

Here's the bad batch! hope you enjoy

Hunter

He's very much not used to a domestic setting, especially not one he's sharing with you

but god he wants to do right by you and make sure he doesn't mess things up

constantly cleaning up tiny messes he makes, even if it's not a mess. it's as if he doesn't want anyone to know he's even staying with you. it's not like that, he swears! just military habits

"What's with the state of the Marauder then?"

"You think Wrecker can keep things tidy for ten minutes?"

He's an early bird due to his military routine, so he's often up long before you. expect to be tucked in tight with a cup of caf or tea on its way to you when he hears you stir

but sometimes, he just likes to sit in the absolute bliss of freedom. even if it's for a short time before he has another mission with his brothers, he'll relish the contact and hold you close, cradling you like a babe.

moments like this make him feel alive. and it's all he ever wants.

on the rare occasion you wake up first, seeing him sprawled out on one side of the bed, barely covered by your sheets with unkempt hair and a missing bandana makes you melt. an absolute sight to behold, so you'll lay there and take it all in while you have the chance before those unflattering blacks are back on

no matter whats happening, where you are, or what you're doing around your apartment, he will make it his mission to be in your personal space. he wants to make sure nothing happens, and fears the loss if he steps away for just a moment

constant kisses. Hunter relishes in physical touch, and will always place a kiss on your temples, forehead, hands, cheeks, nose, lips, whatever he can reach the fastest. you'll never forget how devoted this man is to you.

even if he's wearing his whole gear and hasn't taken his head piece off yet, he'll delicately bump it to the top of your head if he's got a good enough angle.

he'll melt if you kiss his helmet. maybe he'd consider asking you to put on some lipstick and throw a big ole smooch onto the filter by his cheek so he can take your love with him to battle

"mark my helmet, would you mesh'la? I want to take you with me while I can"

oh no, your heart is missing, where in the galaxies could it have gone?

sweet angel

Wrecker

Where do I even begin?

it won't be the tidiest arrangement by far, but he will always do his best to pick up after himself, even if it's not very often.

arrange a day where you both tidy, with music in the background, and he'll be so gung-ho about helping you clean up! with the occasional dance number during, of course

he'll give you a spin and a dip, and a big ole smooch! very very smily man, god take care of his heart

words of affirmation turn this sweet giant into a puddle of mush, please compliment him

you'll pick up on a few mandoan terms, and will throw them around here and there while you're busy

"Hand me a towel would you, cyar'ika"

"can you grab me that mug from the top shelf, ner cyare?"

his face will light up, eyes well with tears, and he'll scoop you up into a bone-crushing hug, waddle to the couch, and sit with his face buried in your neck, simply repeating the phrases you say in his head. he'd do anything for you to continue getting these sweet words

he's a little bit of an idiot, so sometimes you have to reassure him if you make a joke that he doesn't quite get. you find it endearing, but he worries you think he's not that smart

you can cup his cheek, stare into his eyes, and praise his wonderful mind

movie nights with mantell mix are a staple for this man's date nights. you'll never escape his embrace while watching movies, but you don't mind. he keeps you warm and safe

sleeping arrangements are as such: you're a little spoon. deal with it. he finds it most comfortable, though some nights he'll roll over and will wake up feeling your forehead on his back, and arms wrapping as far across his body as possible. he finds it utterly adorable, and loves it just as much as sleeping with you on his chest

as long as you're by his side, so that when you wake, you can share kisses and make a cup of caf together for the day ahead

"Don't know what I did t' deserve ya... But I ain't lettin' go. Don't even think 'bout it, cyare."

Tech

clean. freak.

everything should be where it belongs after its used, and even you yourself have to get used to it if you're going to be accommodating his stay for a little while

of course, you accommodate willingly, to which he will always attempt to thank you for it, in his Tech ways

anything broken? not anymore

acts of service make his wizard brain hum with glee, so whenever you have an issue you'd like help with, he's already chomping at the bit and listing all the things he'll need to fix whatever ailes your mind

sleeping beside this man could not be more of a rollercoaster

sometimes he wants to cuddle up close, but other times he does indeed need his space. you've made a promise to always ask and find out what he's looking for, and this man practically melts like putty in your hands. god you're an angel in disguise for this troubled soul

with cuddle time, he'll place his hands where they're most comfortable. if they land somewhere spicy, it's simply because of his arm positioning. he's definitely a big spoon and absolutely relishes in the fact that he can make you feel safe. he doesn't mind if you're the only person in the galaxy that depends on him for safety, because he wouldn't have it any other way.

other nights when he needs his space, he'll lay beside you, fingers laced with yours, and wait for you to fall asleep comfortably. if you're talking for a little while, he pushes eye contact. it's his way of apologising for the lack of snuggles, which is equally taxing, but he wants to remind you that you are his world

absolutely a tea lover, and would just about pass away if you brought him a mug of leaf juice on a morning

always sneaking peeks at you, out of pure adoration. he thinks he hasn't been caught, but you caught him long ago, oogling at you fresh out of the shower wrapped in a towel

nice try Hun, maybe next time

hes leaving for a mission? he will break his internal rules and make a mess of your bed, filling it with blankets, pillows, and any soft items he can find. if he has a spare set of blacks, or even some clothes you bought for him as a casual wardrobe, he will make sure it smells like him so you've got extra comfort until he gets back

always telling you that he'll be back in -insert approximate date- but will forever promise to do his best to get back earlier

he won't call you call you petnames, but the way he says your name is so endearing. he says it with passion, and it melts your heart

"It won't take long. Around two weeks if all goes to plan, which is extremely unlikely due to the nature of the mission. But I do insist, I'll come back to you soon, y/n."

Echo

this absolute darling boy has been through the lot

Echo is a tough one, considering he isn't to big on making himself at home anywhere. he's pretty cut and run nowadays but for you? god he'll do his best

he keeps relatively tidy, making sure to help out with the dishes if you ask, or if you're looking pretty tired. he doesn't want you to push yourself when he could easily do it himself

he absolutely shoves a sponge on his scomp. do not @ me about this, imagine the glass cleaning efficiency of this man, god

he's a vivid enjoyer of quality time. while he can't exactly 100% convince himself that you find him comfortable enough to lay with or cuddle, he will always do his best to let you sit where you wish

he'll often ask that you sit on his right side, so he can hold you in his arm and rub gentle circles into your hip or waist as he gets comfy

he is a sleep avoider. you know he's got a lot in his head, and always wants to keep busy, which you're usually fine with, but when it's time to sleep, you'll always do your best to ramble him to sleep. god, this sweet man needs someone to consume his thoughts to ward off the nightmares

you're a big spoon most nights. not because Echo doesn't like spooning you, because he does, he absolutely adores it, but most often, Echo needs that sort of safety net. having familiar arms and weight around him will help him doze, and it'll chase away the bad thoughts clouding his sleep

when you're lil spoon, he will always nuzzle his face into your hair. the smell of your shampoo, and just you in general, is so comforting.

whenever he wakes up in a cold sweat, he feels bad for dampening the sheets, but as you've learned to wake with him in these situations, you always shush him and suggest he take a warm shower while you switch the sheets out for lovely warm ones

echo in a towel. you insist he makes you hot and bothered, and he does believe you every time you say it. he's starting to believe it, and by god you're helping his self esteem more and more each time he stays with you

before he deploys with the batch on a mission, he sits and stares at you, hand cupping your cheek, eyes flickering back and forth between your own

he likes to drink all of you in while he has the chance, and if ever he's thirsty, all he has to do is remember you

you're the last thing he wants to remember if ever he's faced with something anywhere close to Skako again.

"Ner mesh'la... I'll come back for your eyes alone. wait for me, please"

Crosshair

Where to begin?

Nightmare. he can be like having a teen in your home sometimes. snarky comments and sarcasm up the wazoo, but each one of them threatens to get you riled up

he's not the cleanest, but he will keep things in order a majority of the time, helping out with moving things and taking the bins out whenever you need, just so he can keep tabs on you

sharp shooters have sharp eyes, and his are trained like a hawk on you

he isn't the most affectionate, mostly expressing his love to you through teasing and sarcasm.

he likes commenting on your height, or making remarks on your handiwork with whatever you might be doing, though he never intends to be rude about it

sometimes when he's had an iffy day, or he's out of sorts, he'll wander up behind you and snake his arms around your waist, before he nose dives into your neck

he never does much without your explicit consent, but does cast glances often

let's face it. he does not care about what he's wearing around you. including nothing

"Cross- can you please at least put your briefs on?"

"Can you please keep your eyes off me? Cyar'ika, I thought you knew better."

sleeping goes as follows; if you want to spoon, he'll spoon, and hug you close in his sleep

if you want to lay on your back, your chest becomes free real estate.

oh, those are some comfy looking pillows you have there. big, small, or nothing at all, it's a pillow, and it's his

head on chest, hand on waist, absolute KO. he is not waking up

Cross, on the odd occasion, can feel vulnerable around you. when he's away from his work, he'll talk to you about some of the things that happened, and he knows you'll listen to every word, which he can't express his appreciation for

while you're not allowed to touch his rifle, he'll let you sit by him while he cleans it. in fact, he'll appreciate the company. he always does

"I'm off, cyare. Behave while I'm gone, and we won't have problems."

What a tease

[dracolilhoe]

Forbidden Enchantment (Draco Malfoy x Y/n)

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Main Masterlist here -> DracoLilHoe

Harry Potter Fandom Masterlist here -> HP Masterlist!

Warnings: Use of Y/n, mild swearing

Words: 4,457 (God damn)

Summary: There's been a new rumor going around Hogwarts recently that you and the infamous Draco Malfoy are a thing. How could people even think that?! Why the hell would you date your enemy? Your standards obviously aren't that low.

If you find mistakes please tell me! I'm not a perfect writer so please just let me know. Happy reading! :)

There's been a new rumor going around Hogwarts lately. Apparently, you and Draco Malfoy are "dating." Obviously, this is true because he's basically your enemy! And why would you lower your standards to rock bottom? From your first year to now, your sixth, you and Draco have never gotten along and have gotten into many arguments. Luckily, you have little to no lessons with him, but now classes are over for the day, and at the end of the hall, of course, you see Draco.

"You actually just wandered about looking like that?" Draco sneers, a nasty smirk on his lips. "And to consider, people actually believe I'm dating you. I'm offended." 

“I’m offended they don’t think I have better taste.” I snap back. "Yeah, because you have great taste," he says sarcastically. "I've seen you staring at that Ravenclaw. What's his name? Smith?" he asks with a smug smirk plastered across his face. "I'm definitely a bigger catch than him," he says with a hint of arrogance in his tone. 

"Jealous, are we?” I ask, an identical smirk making its way onto my lips. "Of course not!" He snaps back, "Why would I be jealous of a complete idiot like him? I just meant that I'm clearly more attractive, that's all!" he says quickly, his expression shifting from smug to a bit defensive.

"Suit yourself." I shrug. He scoffs. "Oh, now you're being sarcastic," he says, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. "I was talking purely about facts, and the fact is, I'm much better looking than him in every way."

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Malfoy, but you're really not." "What do you mean I'm not?!" He exclaims, his defensiveness growing stronger. "I'm far more attractive than him, and you know it." “Clearly I don’t.” "Well, you're clearly wrong," he says firmly. "I don't look like a complete slob every day. My hair always looks neat; I wear nice robes; I'm tall and fit; I'm clearly the better choice between him and me," he says with a scowl.

"Sooo, what your saying is that you are jealous?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. "No! Why would I be jealous of him?!” He snaps back a bit too quickly, hinting that he is jealous. He crosses his arms again. "I can't help the fact you have bad taste."

A small laugh escapes my lips as I look at the look spread across his face. “You're so stupid!” He glares at you, clearly offended. "I am not stupid! I'm one of the smartest people in this school; you're the stupid one!" he says defensively.

“Well if you excuse me I have a date to go on,” I say pushing past him. He turns his head to you, his expression shifting from anger to annoyance. "With Smith, I assume" he mutters, watching you walk off. "Yep!" I turn around a good distance in front of him and give him a small smirk.

 He huffs in annoyance, crossing his arms again, and turns to walk the other way, "I don't know why you'd choose him over me." he grumbles, his voice quiet so you can barely hear him. "Sorry, what was that?" I ask my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He looks away, his face getting slightly pink. "I didn't say anything important" he mumbles, avoiding your gaze, knowing you heard what he said.

"You sure?" I ask my voice soft. "I'm positive," he says quickly, his voice slightly louder, "I don't know why you're interested in Smith anyway. I could treat you much better," he says, still looking away from you. "Then show me," I whisper stepping a few feet in front of him.

His eyes widen as he looks up at you, "You want me to what?! Prove that I'm a better choice than him? You're serious?" I nod. "Smith and I aren't official sooo." He nods, processing the information for a moment. "So you're telling me you're single," he says, a hint of smugness in his voice, "and that you are willing to give me a chance if I show you that I'm a better option than Smith, correct?"

"Yeah basically." He takes a step closer, his gaze locked on you. "Very well then," he says, a confident smirk on his face, "Consider this your first date. Or trial period. Whatever you want to call it." A small giggle escapes my lips. "Alright then!"

"Now let's start this trial," he says, standing up straight with a sense of arrogance, "I'll show you that I'm a better choice than that idiot. And then you'll see that you've been wrong this whole time." He thinks for a moment, "The first thing is that I would look after you better" he says, his smirk growing slightly, "Smith doesn't have a clue what you need. But I do. I know exactly how to treat a girl, and I would treat you with the respect you deserve."

"Next, my fashion taste is clearly superior," he says, adjusting his tie, "Just look at me. I always look sharp and polished. But Smith? He looks like he just rolled out of bed and put on the first thing he found." I begin to bite my lip nervously. "I think it's kind of cute."

He rolls his eyes, clearly not happy with your answer. "Of course you do" he mutters under his breath. "But you're missing the point. You deserve someone who can dress well and look good in front of other people. Not some messy, lazy boy who doesn't even comb his hair!"

He takes another step closer, looking down at you. "Another thing, I would be a lot more fun to spend time with. I could take you places and keep you entertained. Smith probably doesn't even know how to have a proper conversation." "Uh yeah, he does," I say defensively.

He snorts, "Please. The most I've ever seen him say is 'hi' and 'how are you'. He doesn't have an interesting bone in his body," he says, shaking his head slightly. He watches you for a moment, gauging your expression before continuing, "And let's not even talk about loyalty," he says, his eyes locking on yours, "Smith probably gets distracted by every other girl that comes along. But me? I would be loyal to you. I wouldn't look at anyone else but you."

"How would I know that for sure?" I ask taking a step forward. He looks down at you as you step closer, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You don't," he says bluntly, "But you'll just have to trust me. Trust me, I have no interest in anyone else but you," he says, his voice slightly softer.

"I knew it! You were jealous!" He huffs, his smirk disappearing as he's hit with the reminder. He looks away for a moment, avoiding your gaze. "Yes, okay. I was a little jealous. Happy?" he says reluctantly, his voice betraying just a hint of vulnerability. I nod a smirk on my face for getting him to admit it.

He glares at you, annoyance and slight embarrassment in his eyes. "Don't look so smug," he snaps, "You're not supposed to be enjoying this, I thought you were supposed to be judging me against Smith?" "I am I am!" I say raising my hands defensively.

"And? Who's winning so far?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, his competitive side showing. "Well the thing is Malfoy, you gotta take me out first." He grins, clearly liking the sound of that. "Oh, I will," he says confidently, "you'll see. By the end of this trial you'll be begging me to not dump you for that idiot," he says with a smirk, the competitive spark still in his eyes.

He looks at you for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face as he studies you. He thinks for a moment before his smirk grows wider. "And just so you know, I'll be taking you to someplace that SMITH can't even afford." He says, his voice slightly mocking, "I'll show you just how good I can treat you, darling."

He pauses for a moment, realizing what he called you. "Darling" he repeats in a quieter voice, a hint of surprise in his tone, as if it slipped out unintentionally. He looks down at you, his expression a mix of surprise, curiosity, and a hint of vulnerability. "Did I just call you that out loud?" he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I nod. He notices your blush and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "Did you like that?" he asks, his tone teasing and slightly smug, "Being called darling, I mean."

"Yes..." I whisper my gaze not meeting his. His smirk grows wider and he takes a small step closer to you. "You liked being called darling? You liked it when I referred to you in a cute, affectionate way?" he asks, his voice slightly cocky. He enjoys seeing you flustered, it only boosts his ego.

He takes another step closer, his voice turning softer and more seductive. "Darling" he repeats, his tone almost a whisper, "such a cute nickname. I think it suits you quite well," he says, his eyes locked on yours, a hint of fondness in his gaze.

I blush taking a small step back. He notices you stepping back and his smirk returns, clearly enjoying the effect he's having on you. "Are you getting flustered, darling?" he teases, taking another step closer, and closing the distance you created. "Draco-" He steps even closer, now only inches away from you. "Yes darling?" he asks, his voice sultry and his smirk growing, enjoying the way you stutter.

"Screw Smith," I whisper grabbing Draco’s neck and pulling him down to meet my lips. He's caught off guard as you grasp his neck and pull him down. He lets out a surprised gasp, but quickly recovers as your lips meet his. His eyes widen for a moment before he relaxes, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against him. He kisses you back fiercely, his hands moving up to cup your face as he deepens the kiss.

He pushes you back slightly, pinning you against the wall as he continues the kiss, his body pressed against yours. His hands move down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He can feel your body pressed against his and the feeling is intoxicating, it only makes him want you even more.

I pull away for a moment catching my breath. He leans his forehead against yours, panting slightly as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes are still closed, the feeling of your body against his etched into his mind. "That was..." he says, his voice gruff and out of breath, "unexpected."

"Y/n? What the fuck!" A voice says from down the corridor. Draco's eyes fly open as he hears the voice, his head snapping towards the direction it came from. He looks slightly irritated at being interrupted but doesn’t move away from you, still keeping you pinned against the wall with his body. My eyes widen in shock as I look toward the voice. "Smith? I- "

Smith approaches his expression a mix of surprise and hurt as he sees you pinned against the wall by Draco. He looks at the two of you for a moment before speaking. "Y/n, what's going on here?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "I- " Draco's arms tighten around you at the sound of Smith's voice, his eyes locking on the other boy, his expression growing more annoyed. "Can't you see we're busy here?" he snaps, his tone cold and dismissive.

Smith looks at Draco, a mixture of anger and hurt etched across his face. "Yeah, I can see that," he says through gritted teeth, "but I just saw my girlfriend pinned against the wall by you." Draco rolls his eyes, his smirk returning as he looks at Smith. "Well, about that," he says casually, "She's not your girlfriend anymore, is she?"

Smith's eyes widen at Draco's words, and he looks at you with a mixture of shock and disbelief. "What? What do you mean she's not my girlfriend anymore?" he asks, his tone turning from hurt to anger. "Draco- " I whisper nervously. He gives you a sidelong glance, a silent command to let him handle this. "I mean that she's mine now," he says casually, his tone almost challenging as he looks at Smith, "Sorry to disappoint you, but she's decided to upgrade."

Smith's expression darkens at Draco's words, his anger growing. "You're joking right?" he asks, his voice rising, "You can't just waltz in here and steal my girlfriend like it's nothing!" Draco chuckles coldly, finding amusement in Smith's anger. "Oh, but I can and I did," he says smugly, "And let's face it, she deserves better than you anyway." Smith's hands ball into fists at his sides, his eyes filled with a dangerous glint. "You better shut your mouth, Malfoy," he growls, taking a step forward, "or I'll shut it myself."

Draco grins, clearly enjoying the power he holds over the situation. "Oh, I'm so scared," he says sarcastically, his tone dripping with mockery. "You really think you can take me, Smith? Please. I'd have you on your ass in seconds." "Okay, guys," I say nervously, "Let's just calm down..." Both Draco and Smith look at you at the sound of your voice, their attention suddenly focused on you. Draco's expression softens slightly, his hand still on your waist. Smith, on the other hand, looks at you with a mix of defiance and confusion.

"Yeah, let's calm down for a second," Draco says, his voice now softer. He looks at Smith, his expression still cocky, but with a hint of vulnerability. "You heard the lady." Smith looks at the two of you for a moment, his anger still visible in his eyes. "So what, I'm just supposed to stand here and accept that you two are together now?" he asks, his voice laced with bitterness. Draco lets out a humorless chuckle. "You don't have a choice, do you? She's made her decision," he says bluntly, his hand still resting on your waist, his grip firm.

Smith's eyes flick from Draco's hand to yours, and you can see the hurt and betrayal etched across his face. "I can't believe this. You were my girlfriend, Y/n", he says, his voice cracking slightly, "How could you just throw all of that away for... HIM?” "Smith..." Smith looks at you, his eyes pleading for an explanation. "Don't 'Smith' me," he says, his voice raising in frustration, "I just want to know why. Why him? After everything we've been through together, why would you choose him?!"

"I just- I- " I trail off as I struggle to find the right words. Draco's smirk widens at your hesitation, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he looks at Smith, his grip on your waist tightening. "Can you believe it, Smith? She doesn't even have an explanation for choosing me over you," he says mockingly. "Draco shut it!" I snap. He raises an eyebrow not expecting you to snap at him, but his expression remains nonchalant. "Fine, fine," he says, raising his hands in mock surrender, "I'll keep my mouth shut. For now, at least."

The tension between the three of you is palpable as you all stand there in the hallway. Smith is still reeling from the shock of the situation, his eyes flicking between you and Draco, trying to process what's happening. Draco, on the other hand, is still standing with his arm around your waist, seemingly nonchalant and unbothered. But you can sense a tension in his body like he's holding back the urge to say more. Finally, Smith speaks up, breaking the silence. "So that's it, huh?" he says, his voice still laced with anger, "You're just gonna forget about everything we had and be with him now?"

"Smith just listen- " Smith cuts you off, his voice rising. "Don't give me that, ‘Smith please’ bullshit," he snaps, "You know what I’ve done for you, what we’ve been through together. And now you just toss me aside for him like I’m nothing?" “Smith we weren’t even official!” Smith looks at you stunned, his anger temporarily replaced by surprise. "What do you mean, we weren't official?" he asks, his voice slightly softer. You hesitate, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt. "Well, we never specifically defined our relationship," you say, choosing your words carefully.

"We never actually said we were boyfriend-girlfriend, we just sort of… fell into a place of casual dating," I say biting my lip nervously. Smith looks at you for a moment, processing your words. His expression shifts from anger to hurt, his shoulders slumping. "So all this time, we were just...casual?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly. You nod, confirming his question, and a mixture of emotions wash over his face. "I thought...I thought we had something real, that we were headed somewhere together," he says, his voice full of sadness, "But all along, I was just some casual fling to you."

"Smith-" He cuts you off, shaking his head bitterly. "No, save it," he says, his tone growing cold, "I don’t want to hear your excuses. You knew how I felt about you, and you kept stringing me along, knowing you could just toss me aside for him whenever you wanted to." "It's not like that!" I protest as I look at his heartbroken eyes. Smith scoffs, his anger returning. "Then what’s it like, Y/n? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that," he says, his voice rising, "You led me on, made me believe we had something special, only for you to drop me as soon as he came along."

Draco's grip on your waist tightens as he listens to the conversation, his expression unreadable. He stays silent, letting you and Smith hash it out, but his body is tense like he's barely restraining himself from saying something.

"Smith I'm sorry I hurt you but-" Smith cuts you off again, his voice growing more and more frustrated. "Don’t give me that “I’m sorry” crap, it's not gonna fix anything," he says, his voice almost a hiss, "You knew how I felt, you knew what you were doing, and you still played with my emotions. So don’t act like you regret anything."

"Smith just please let me explain!" He takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you. "Fine, then explain. Go ahead, tell me how you didn’t know exactly what you were doing, how you didn’t lead me on all this time," he snaps, his voice filled with anger. “I didn’t think it was that serious!” "Not serious?" Smith repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "What do you mean it wasn’t serious? We spent months together, going on dates, hanging out, and doing everything a couple does. How was that not serious to you?”

“Three dates! Three!! And we were friends before that!” He scoffs, clearly not buying your explanation. "Three dates, yeah, but we also hung out all the time, we were practically inseparable. You really expect me to believe you thought all of that was just casual?" “Yes! I thought we were just talking!!” He rolls his eyes, his anger and hurt now mixed with frustration. "Talking?" he says scornfully, "Is that what you call it? Spending all that time together, getting intimate, sharing everything about each other, and you thought we were just talking?" “I- “ I sigh frustrated.  

He watches you flounder for a response, his expression hardening. "See? You can’t even deny it. You knew exactly what you were doing, playing with my feelings, leading me on." “I wasn’t!!” He raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, really? So you’re telling me you had no idea that I was falling for you this entire time?" “Well, I had a hunch…” He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "A hunch, huh? You had a hunch that I was head-over-heels for you, that I was falling in love with you, and you still led me on like you didn’t have a clue?"

“Smith…” I whisper. “I’m sorry…” He sighs, his expression shifting from anger to resignation. "Sorry isn’t gonna cut it, Y/n,” he says quietly, “You knew how I felt, yet you still toyed with my emotions, and now look where we are." I look over at Draco as he raises an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you, his grip on your waist still firm. He’s stayed silent during the entire exchange, observing the interaction between you and Smith with a mixture of curiosity and jealousy. “I’m sorry,” I say again.

Smith sighs, his shoulders sagging as he looks at you. "Just don’t do something like this again," he says, his voice softer now, "I understand that we weren’t official, but it still hurts when you play with a person’s feelings like that." “I know… I’m sorry.” He lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "I’ll be okay, eventually," he says, although his voice lacks conviction. “I just needed to get that off my chest. I still care about you, you know,” he adds, his voice almost a whisper. I feel a tear trickle down my cheek knowing that I've messed up. “Smith-“

He sees the tear on your cheek and something in his expression softens. "Hey, don’t cry," he says, his voice gentle, "It’ll be alright. I’ll get over it." He reaches out, gently wiping away the tear from your cheek. "I just...I just need some time to get used to the idea of you being with him, okay?" he adds, his gaze moving to Draco, his expression laced with a mix of annoyance and resignation. Draco stares back at him, his expression completely neutral. He hasn’t said a word this entire time, but his grip on your waist remains firm, his possessive nature on full display.

I look at Smith as I hold in my tears. He gives you a weak smile, noticing your attempt to hold back tears. "Don’t cry on my account, Y/n," he says, trying to sound nonchalant, "It’s not like we were official or anything, right? Just some casual dating, nothing serious." "Y-yeah." He nods, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Yeah...casual," he repeats, the word almost bitter on his tongue. He glances at Draco, standing beside you, his arm still around your waist, a clear sign of ownership.

There’s a moment of awkward silence between the three of you, the tension still thick in the air. Smith looks between you and Draco, his jaw clenching at the sight of Draco’s arm around you. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice strained. "I should go," he mutters, his eyes flickering to Draco for a moment before looking back at you. "Take care, Y/n."

He gives you one last, sad smile before turning and walking away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. As he disappears down the hallway, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt and sadness wash over you. "Draco I'll um... see you later." You start to turn away Draco’s grip on your waist tightens, stopping you in your tracks. “Hold on, love,” he says, his voice low and commanding, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll see you later.” You say again pushing his hand off your waist and head towards your common room. "Hey, wait a minute," Draco snaps, quickly grabbing your wrist and spinning you back to face him, his grip firm but not painful. "We need to talk." "What?" He stares down into your eyes, his gaze intense. "What was all that with Smith just now?" he asks, his voice sharp, "Looks like you two had quite the intimate conversation."

“It wasn’t like that. We can talk tomorrow.” I say taking my hand from his grip. Draco frowns, clearly displeased with your attempt to blow him off. "No, we're talking now," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He steps closer to you, his body almost pinning you against the wall. “Draco… not right now please.” He ignores your plea, his gaze never leaving your face. He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Why won’t you talk to me?" he says, his voice gentler now, "I thought we were past the whole “not talking about feelings” thing."

“Draco I need to go dinner starts soon.” He bristles at your attempt to leave, his eyes darkening. "You really think I care if you miss dinner, love? I think our conversation is more important than a few crumbs on a plate." He moves closer, his body now fully pressing against yours, trapping you against the wall. "Draco please... stop," I whisper. He lets out a frustrated sigh, his hand tracing the curve of your jaw. "You know I’m not going to stop until you talk to me, love," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "Why are you being so stubborn?"

“Because I need a moment alright?!?” I snap. He flinches slightly at your snapping tone, clearly not expecting such a sharp response. For a moment, he stands there, processing your words. Then, a flicker of anger crosses his face. "A moment?" he repeats, his voice cold, "You need a moment? And what about me? Do you even care how that little show between you and Smith made me feel?" I sigh frustrated and place my head in my hands.

Draco watches you, his expression softening slightly as he sees your frustrated state. "Hey. Look at me," he says, his voice gentler now. When you don’t respond, he sighs and reaches up, placing a gentle hand on your chin and tilting your head up so that you're facing him. "What?" He studies your face closely, his gaze searching yours. "You're not being fair,” he says quietly, “I saw how you were with Smith back there. So casual, so dismissive. It’s like I don't matter to you at all. Am I just some passing fancy to you, love?" “I’ll see you later,” I say as I walk down the hall.

He calls after you, his voice betraying his frustration, "Don’t you dare walk away from me, love! We’re not done here!" But you ignore him, continuing down the hall, leaving him standing there, seething with anger and frustration.

I make it to my dorm room and slam the door. As you enter your dorm room and shut the door behind you, you can feel the weight of the day's events crashing down on you. You flop down on your bed, burying your face in your pillow, feeling emotionally drained. As you lay there, your mind races, replaying the events of the day over and over again. Your argument with Smith, Draco's possessiveness, your own guilt and confusion. It's like a never-ending loop, playing on repeat in your head, tormenting you.

“What did I do?” I ask myself as I lay staring at the ceiling.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Fuck me bro. I haven't posted in ages. I'm sorry😭

If yall want a part two lemme know

______________________________________________________________

Check me out on Tumblr!

Check me out on Wattpad!

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Thirsty Frank hours? Well, perfect time to send this.

Imagine... you've always been a little insecure (weight, looks, whatever) and have a particularly hard day. Frank senses your distress and want to make you feel better.

And ehm... He does make you feel reeeealy good 😏

Can just imagine him being so soft, tender, talking you through it and just... God, just being wrapped in his arms 🫠❤️

|| Reminder ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: readers insecurities, soft supportive Frank, fingering, p in v unprotected sex.

A/n: thank you so very much for this ask @munsonownsmyass I've read so many mirror sex fics but I thought fuck it, I wanted to do my own with Frank! I swear this man talking sense into you in that rough and sweet way he has would fix me forever.

~

You're barely in the door, late getting back, having had an absolute shitter of a day and feeling like you just want to curl up in bed and cry about it. Frank’s already home and waiting for you, you don't even need to say anything. He knows you, inside and out. He can tell when the crushing weight of your thoughts is dragging you down and he can help lighten them.

Still, you turn away as his eyes meet yours, darkest brown and always so penetrating, stripping you bare. Sometimes you think you can't face him when you're like this, but then he sidles up next to you, his hand curling around the back of your head and holding you as he plants a light kiss on your forehead and the barriers you're ready to put up crumble.

"Hey, c'mere and tell me what's wrong." His fingers stroke over your hair and you lean against him burying your face into the soft brushed cotton of his hoodie. He smells like home and although it doesn't lift your heavy mood entirely, it helps. Frank wraps you in his arms letting you decompress a little before he'll press you any further. He leans down, laying a peck on your cheek before he guides you to sit down with him on the couch.

"It's just-" you want to tell him but it suddenly all seems stupid as the words are forming in your mouth. Frank is watching you patiently, his gaze soft and open as he lets you take all the time you need.

You sigh and try again. "We were trying on outfits, the girls and I, for Marci's wedding… and the others, they looked so beautiful and effortlessly gorgeous in everything, and I-"

You pull at a fraying thread of your sleeve and huff, angry at yourself as tears begin to well in your eyes.

"Baby, you look gorgeous in everything too."

You sit up, shaking your head. "No I don't. I just look like I'm playing dress up with my mom's clothes or something. I hate the way everything looks on me, I hate how I feel. Like everyone's staring at me because I look so dumb…"

Frank's brow forms into a deep furrow as you berate yourself, he won't stand for that shit.

"Hey, where's all this coming from? You're fuckin' beautiful darlin', I say it all the damn time but you gotta know it's the truth."

He pulls you onto his lap, gently wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb.

"Th-they just all seem so strong and don't give a shit what people think. I can't do that, I don't know how. I've never liked how I look, or felt confident or anything… urgh, and now I'm just whining to you about it like a pathetic idiot! I'm sorry, I shouldn't- I'll go away..."

You go to get up from him but he gently clasps his hand around your wrist.

"If you wanna be alone that's okay I'll let you be, but I've got somethin' I need to show you sweetheart, if you'll let me."

You look at him, confused about what he could want to show you. He's got those big pleading puppydog eyes trained on you but underneath there's something else…

"W-what?"

He stays close to you as he rises, taking your hand in his, leading you to your bedroom and standing you opposite the wardrobe mirror in front of him.

"Oh, Frank, no please…" You cringe, turning away from your reflection but he catches you in his arms, reassuring you as he urges you to face yourself.

"Baby, I need you to see what I see." He strokes the back of his knuckles down the outside of your arm, his other hand around your waist and his head resting lightly in the space between your neck and shoulder. His lips brush a kiss to the bare skin revealed by your loose sweater.

"Look at this woman I got." He begins, and you can see him looking at all of you. Eyes flickering over every inch of you as if you were naked in front of him. "She's a goddess."

You roll your eyes, body sagging in his hold. "No she isn't."

Frank stares you down in the mirror. "You callin' me a liar?" He actually seems slightly hurt as you sigh again, then a dark look of determination crosses his features. You know you're in for it now, whatever it is.

“What I see right here in front of me, is the strongest, most confident woman that I ever laid eyes on. You see that girl taking any shit from me? Baby, all those assholes I take down in the Kitchen, they ain’t got nothin’ on you, I ain’t scared of them, but you… Christ, you’ve got me whipped.”

He holds you around the waist, his big hands warm through your clothes as his lips graze your ear. "You think you don’t look good? I’m tellin’ you, you look goddamn fucking gorgeous to me just the way you are, wearin’ what you’re wearin’.”

His tone drops an octave as he moves his hands down and hooks his fingers under the hem of your sweater, pulling it up over your head. “An’ you look good not wearin’ anything at all too…”

His fingers trail down the bare sides of your ribcage as you bring your arms back down, wrapping them around yourself. You try to shy away as his fingers come up to trace your collarbone and slowly down the cup of your bra, unraveling your arms and placing them down by your sides exposing you as he goes.

“Fuck, look at you sweetheart, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I'm thinkin' that my baby girl needs a little reminder..."

You bite on your bottom lip as he drifts his hands to the button of your pants, undoing it and pulling the zip down slow like he’s unwrapping a precious gift. His fingers tease at the waistband of your panties as you feel the hardening shape of his cock pressed up through his jeans against your ass.

"Mm, yeah that's all you." He says, his gruff voice driving straight down to your core as he works your pants off down your legs and helps you step out of them.

"That’s what you do to me… and this ass?" His hands are all over you as he marks your soft flesh with his teeth while he's down there, making you gasp as he kisses and soothes over it and continues placing adoring kisses up over the curve of your ass cheek as he works his way up your spine.

"Frank…"

"You want me to stop?" He asks you quietly, laying another soft kiss as he reaches the base of your neck.

You glance at the two of you in the mirror. This terrifying beast of a man to most is curled around your body, holding you, touching you, intent on showing you how much he adores you. Were you going to let your insecurities get in the way of that?

"No." You commit. Deep down you know that you need this.

He nods and unzips his hoodie, taking both it and his t-shirt off revealing the canvas of scars littering his massive upper body. His own imperfections that you can never see as such. He unhooks your bra, sliding the straps down over your shoulders, following on one side with his mouth letting it drop from your arms to the floor. A sweet warmth builds within at the sensation of his skin against yours. That basic, unshakable thought that Frank is your home.

He feels the softening in you, the corner of his mouth pulling up a little as he runs his hands up the outsides of your thighs, over your hips and stomach. One hand smoothes up your chest to gently cup one of your breasts, while the other moves south, cupping your sex through your underwear. Your eyes half-close as you let him take you over.

"There's my girl." He growls as he slips his hand beneath the thin cotton of your panties, fingertips meeting the slick pooling of your arousal there. He slides his fingers through your folds, spreading the moisture around before taking your ruined underwear off and sitting down on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide, still facing the mirror. He lifts you onto his lap like you weigh nothing, the muscles in his arms are thick and prominent, and god if that doesn't turn you on even more.

You watch as he parts your legs, placing them on the outside of his own. He drags his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, up and up to circle around the apex of them, and you're unable to draw your eyes away from the glistening of your own exposed cunt as he touches you there. Your breathing picks up, becoming shallow while he simultaneously runs a finger and thumb over your hardening nipples, playing with and gently pinching at them. A smile spreads on his gorgeous lips as a small moan leaves your throat, your body arching, your leg muscles twitching and the throbbing pulse behind your clit ever growing with the slow pass of his talented fingers.

"That's it beautiful," He praises, his stubble scratching along the side of your face as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. He dips his middle finger into your soaking entrance, reveling in the sweet sounds you make as he pushes it slow, in and out of your pussy.

Your own hand covers his on your breast, urging him to squeeze and grope. He's rock hard underneath you now and you're getting so wet that you're soaking into the crotch of his jeans, but even so, he's intent on concentrating solely on your pleasure.

He takes his fingers away and you look up, bereft, only to see him bring them up to his mouth to suck your juices from them. You've almost forgotten how you got here.

"Taste so good baby, you know I can't ever get enough of you." He pushes two fingers inside you this time, encouraging your loud moans along with his gentle kisses up the side of your neck.

"You seein' what I'm seein' now?" he drawls, looking at your reflection. “My strong, powerful, gorgeous lady makin’ me weak for her?”

He’s a fucking liar, you think, your mouth starting to stretch into a satisfied smile. Frank Castle would give you the world if he could, you don’t make him do anything he doesn't want to. That thought gives you momentary pause, he wants you. He has always wanted you, right from the beginning.

"Fuck Frank, you always, -uhh, know exactly what to say… mmm!" You whimper and moan as he fucks you so slowly and lovingly with his fingers. He kisses and mouths at that spot just below your ear as he curls them, searching for that place inside you that will shatter you into a thousand pieces.

"It's just the truth, baby."

He's watching you in the mirror the whole time. Your eyes meet his and you reach a hand back to grasp him behind his neck, your fingertips scratching at the fuzz of short hair there while the fingers of your other hand grip and dig into the muscles of his thick thigh, nails probably bruising his skin through the denim.

His other hand leaves the plush flesh of your breast to massage the pearl of your clit and you move counter to his ministrations, bucking your hips in time with the steady rhythm he sets.

"Attagirl, take what you need, princess." The low timbre of his voice feels like another caress and has your eyes almost fluttering shut as you let him worship you. You see the way he looks at you in the mirror, enraptured by your body writhing in his arms, those dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your pleasure.

"More, Frank," it's not a request. His breath matches yours as he works to bring you to a climax. You're beautiful, stunning, my fuckin' wildest dream in all his hushed, gasped words of praise spoken against your heated skin. Your legs shake when he adds a third finger, slick, wet and noisy as he pumps them firmly. Both your lips and legs part wider as you can feel the tangled knot deep within you about to blissfully unravel. Your clit feels so sensitive and the way his finger glides and flicks over it is maddening, it's right on the edge of wanting to push him away, but Frank won't stop for anything.

"Oh! Frank, god- oh fuck-"

"Yeah that's it baby. Please darlin', let me see you." Frank Castle doesn't plead for anyone other than you.

It hits you then, coming in his lap with absolute and pure pleasure bursting through your core and spreading out in pulses through the rest of your shuddering, sweat-sheened body. Frank's mouth roves over your neck and the side of your face until you turn to meet it with your own, tongues sliding against each other as you reach your climax. He doesn't stop, only slowing down to let you ride out the thick satisfying waves that follow.

You could lie back in his arms like this for the rest of the night but you're desperate to thank him. Of course he protests, says he doesn't need taking care of but when you get up and turn around, unbuckle that belt, ease him out of his pants and take him inside you he's the one at your mercy.

You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, face to face now, every little sign of his deep love for you written there so plainly. The dark black of his expanded pupils as they lock on yours, the slight curl of his lip as he grunts, swears almost every curse he knows as you ride him. It's barely half a dozen frantic thrusts of your hips until he's spilling inside you with an unguarded moan, his fingers pressing into the flesh around your hips and your foreheads pressed together as you both struggle to catch your breath.

He falls back on the bed and you go along with him. All of your hangups are forgotten as you lie together, basking in the afterglow with his arms around you.

He kisses you on the top of your head. It's such a simple gesture but it makes your heart swell.

"You need any more reminding of just how amazin' you are? Just gotta give me a few minutes and I'll do it all goddamn night."

You smile wide, softly shaking your head. "You did a pretty good job of that Frank, but the moment I need you I'll be sure to let you know."

"That's right. I'm always here for you baby. You just tell me and I'll do whatever I can to help, alright?"

You nod and your lips brush his shoulder in a kiss. "Thank you, I mean it. You're so good to me."

He squeezes you tight. "How about we go get cleaned up and I'll order us some pizza for dinner. That sound good?"

.

.

Frank tags (as always, let me know if you want added/removed): @divinearchangel @saintmurd0ck @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @father4giveme @stress--relief @e-dubbc11 @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemiii @imherefordeanandbones @realfernmayo @munsonownsmyass @marvelswh0re @frankcastlescumslut @chellestrash @chvoswxtch @messymissy @evilbubu @lucy-sky @yanna-banana @anna-hawk

[cozy-the-overlord]

The Little Thrall Girl

Summary: A young Viking thrall sent out after dark to collect firewood finds herself hopelessly lost in the freezing cold woods. Desperate to warm herself, she turns to magic, but luckily for her, her inexperience ends up catching the attention of a benevolent god ...

Word Count: 4,874

Pairing: None

A/N: So I wanted to write something for Christmas this year, but I couldn't come up with a Christmas-y prompt that interested me enough to work on, so instead I decided to do a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Match Girl," which is something I've wanted to do for a couple of years now and is Christmas adjacent. Big thank you again to @lokislittlesigyn for doing all that pesky research for me and acting as beta reader <3 For reference, I pictured Drifa as around ten years old.

Also I wanted to shout out @maiden-of-asgard's A Thief In The Night, which I think I may have been subconsciously inspired by. Hers is a much different story than this (it stars a much older protagonist and is nsfw) but the opening concept is pretty similar and I realized about halfway through writing mine that that was probably where I got the idea lol. Also all of her work is absolutely fantastic in general, so I wanted to mention it <3

Thank you so much for reading, and happy holidays!!

Warnings: Slavery/references to child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Drifa is freezing.

It’s her own fault, because she—stupid, idiot girl!—forgot to fetch firewood before supper as she had been bidden, and now darkness had fallen and her mistress had discovered her mistake. The woman had beaten her bloody and dragged her by the hair into the cold, instructing her master’s guards not to allow her back in until she had collected enough to last the night. Drifa had cried and begged, but it was useless.

She stumbles through the snow, groping blindly in the dark for the feel of tree-bark against her fingertips. There’s a panic building in her throat, icy and sharp. She should have reached the woodpile by now. In the daylight, Drifa has never had the slightest issue navigating the woods around her home, but now, with the moon cloaked in a thick shroud of storm-clouds, she can barely make out the shape of her own hand. She turns to go back, but the flickering light of the longhouse has long disappeared into the black of the night. So dark is it that she can’t even find her old footprints in the snow to follow back home.

She’s lost. She swallows, trying to peer through the labyrinth of shadows for a sign of something, anything familiar. There’s nothing but blackness. Drifa thinks of the tales the old serving-women like to tell, about the bloodthirsty beasts with curling horns and daggers for claws that roam the woods after nightfall, hunting for some luckless little girl to drag back to their lair and slake their hunger on. You must never walk the woods after dark. She wants to cry. I didn’t want to walk them! I didn’t want to! I just want to go home!

A branch snaps in front of her and she shrieks, frozen in place for what seems like an eternity as she waits for something to emerge from the darkness. What does she do if it does? Could she run in the snow? Scream for help? Would anyone hear her? Would anyone care?

But the seconds tick by, with no other sound except the blood pumping in her ears. After a moment, Drifa takes a shaky breath (the cold feels like shards of glass in her throat) and continues trekking on.

Deep in the woods now, she shivers, so violently it makes her bones ache. Originally, she had taken a cloak with her – although really, it was more of a ratty cotton sheet than a cloak, something she tended to use as covering when she slept – but it had gotten caught up in the branches of a tree not long after she started out, and in trying to tug it free she had lost it in the snow. Now, she’s in only her smock, soaked through from falling against the ice.

Without anything to cover it, the metal collar around her neck has grown ice-cold, burning her skin everywhere it touches. She wishes she could take it off, but the collar designates her state as a thrall, and removing it would earn her an even worse beating than the last. Her forehead stings too, more piercingly than it ought to. She thinks she must have cut it when her mistress threw her out, although now, she can’t really remember. Everything seems hazy.

Warm. She must get warm. The need drowns out all other thoughts. If only she could make a fire. If there was wood, she might – one of her many roles is tending to the fire, and she’s usually very good at it. Usually. Drifa bites away the tears, the skin of her lips so cold it feels like glass against her teeth. She could do it, if she only had some wood, but she can’t find any – the ground is covered with snow, and the trees towering over her hold their branches above her head, far too high to reach. It’s as if they’re mocking her.

She cries out when her fingers brush against something brittle. It’s a rock, a large one, jutting out of the snow like a miniature wall. Drifa leans against it, her breath coming in fast little puffs of mist. She knows she shouldn’t stop – out in the cold, winter is liable to put you into a sleep from which you’ll never wake – but everything hurts, and her eyelids are so heavy. It’s only a moment before her legs give out entirely and she collapses on the ground against the rock. Her lower half has gone completely numb, and she wonders if she’s turning to ice.

Fire. I need fire.

Maybe … maybe she could magick one? Her master has talked about seidr before, how witchy women can spark up a flame with only a flick of their wrist and a click of their tongue. Drifa often listens to his conversations with his men while she kneels before the fire. He doesn’t seem to like seidr much – “cowardly and villainous,” he called it, something no woman deserving of respect would ever touch. He wouldn’t be happy if he knew one of his slave girls was considering it, but Drifa is so cold she can’t bring herself to care.

A flick of the wrist and a click of the tongue. Her mouth is so dry that the sound only barely comes out. The forest remains as cold and dark as ever. Maybe it needs a spell? Drifa doesn’t know any spells. She can’t feel her hands anymore. Her eyes are burning. She tries it again, whispering words that sound right. Fire, burn, alight, warm, please, please, please please please please—

“Oh dear, that’s not the right incantation at all.”

Drifa snaps up her gaze and shrieks – or she would have, had the sound not frozen in her throat. A shadow stands across from her, the slender form of a man looming amongst the trees, crimson eyes glittering through the darkness. Her heart jumps to her throat. It’s the monster from the stories. She tries to move, tries to push herself away, but her legs are leaden and heavy and won’t work properly, and so she can only sit paralyzed in terror as he approaches her, the snow crunching beneath his step.

He’s going to eat me … he’s going to bite my head off and carry me back to his lair and feast on my bones … she lets out a soft cry, squeezing her eyes closed as hot tears finally break free, running down her cheeks and freezing against her skin. Oh, why didn’t I remember the firewood earlier?

When the creature speaks again, Drifa can’t make out the words over the sound of her own whimpers. What she does make out is the familiar crackling that follows, a warm, pleasant sound that washes over her … no, it’s a warmth in more than just sound. She looks up, fear giving way to confusion.

The forest is awash with light. It almost hurts her eyes, so accustomed to the dark has she become. As for where it’s coming from – I must be dreaming. A man stands over her, a roaring fire burning in his outstretched hand. She blinks, but the sight does not change. His hand is on fire. It doesn’t seem to be harming him though – the man appears as relaxed as can be, his burning flesh untouched and unaffected, as if the fire wasn’t even there at all.

He’s a normal looking man too, aside from the flames dancing in his palm – no horns or talons or any of the particular beastlike qualities she had been bracing for. No, just a normal man, with his dark hair slicked back and a cloak of black feathers draped over his shoulders. Even his eyes are a green-tinted blue, not the red she could have sworn she saw in the darkness. They sparkle as he smiles down at her.

“Seidr can be quite the tricky little beast,” he says. “You ought to be more careful in your attempts with it. You never know what you might summon.” Drifa gapes as he kneels before her, holding the fire as though he expects her to take it from him. Instinct keeps her hands frozen in her lap, even as the heat beckons her with its soothing warmth. He can’t mean that, can he? Fire … fire hurts. She’s singed her fingers trying to start one enough times to know. You can’t just pick it up in your hand … and yet that’s exactly what he’s doing.

The man seems to sense her turmoil. Chuckling softly, he holds it closer to her, and Drifa nearly starts crying again from how good the heat feels. “Go on, little one. It’s quite safe.”

Biting her lip, she reaches out towards the flame, ready to flinch back the moment it hurts. But the pain never comes. Instead, it’s a warm, tingling sort of spark that travels up her arm, chasing away the cold as it settles in her chest. Drifa gasps as the feeling returns to her fingers, any sense of caution melting away as she reaches for the fire with her other hand. So warm …

She’s almost forgotten that the man is still there when he clasps her arm. She flinches – it doesn’t hurt, but his hand is large enough to wrap entirely around her wrist and then some, and her fear comes flooding back.

But he doesn’t yank her arm out of its socket. Instead, his voice is as soft as his touch.

“You’ll want to cup it,” he says, guiding her hands together to hold the flames as one would a cupful of water. “Like so. That way you’ll have the most control over the spell.”

Drifa pulls her gaze away from the flames to look back up at him, and he smiles at her again. He appears to be wearing leather beneath his cloak, but his leathers look different than any she’s ever seen. Intricate pieces of black and green interlock over his chest, with just the slightest glimpse of glittering gold. Gold on his leathers. This man must be wealthy – far wealthier than her master, at the very least.

If he’s really a man at all.

She inhales a trembling breath. “Are … are you a monster?”

The man throws his head back and lets out a merry laugh. “Oh my,” he chuckles. “I suppose that depends on who you ask.”

Her eyes widen – what does that mean?—and he must notice, because he chuckles again and shakes his head. “No, I’m no monster. Not in the way you fear. My name is Loki.” He reaches towards her and she tenses, but he only tips her chin up with a single tender finger, eyes intent on her neck. It takes a moment to realize he’s looking at her collar. “And who might you be, little thrall?”

Her voice catches in her throat. Should she tell him? Her instinct is to obey –  if he is as wealthy as he seems, her master would be furious if she showed him any disrespect. Although Drifa somehow doubts her master would have much respect for a man who practices seidr. Goodness, she hadn’t known that men could practice seidr at all … that’s not natural, is it?

But Loki is smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It’s alright, lovely. I promise I don’t bite.”

The thought makes her glance at his teeth. They seem quite normal sized, at least. She looks back to the fire, then closes her eyes, her voice coming out in a shaky exhale. “Drifa …”

He hums, pleased. “It’s good to meet you, Drifa.”  His finger drifts from her chin to her cheek, slowly stroking up the side of her face. She shudders, but it’s a pleasant feeling – there’s a warmth to his touch that feels nice against her cold-numbed skin. “You’re a small little thing, to be out so far on your own.”

She hiccups. “I had to get firewood …”

“Firewood?” He’s frowning – Drifa can hear it in his voice. The pinpricks of panic that the heat had melted away spring back in full force. Did she say something wrong? Is he angry? She opens her eyes. His gaze is dark – oh goodness, he is angry – but before she can determine what she’s done that’s earned his ire, he presses his fingertips to the bruised cut on her temple, and Drifa gasps as the stinging turns to tingling, then melts away entirely. She looks up at him in shock.

But Loki says nothing. He pulls away, eyeing her collar once more.

“Has your master sent you out on such a mission so late at night,” he asks at last. “With neither hatchet nor torch?”

Drifa stiffens. “I was supposed to get it earlier …” Her voice is hoarse. Even with the fire in her hands, she feels quite cold. “I forgot …” Goodness, how long has she been gone? Her mistress had told her to hurry – that feels like hours ago. Her vision blurs. Norns, she’s going to be in for the beating of a lifetime—

“Oh lovely girl.” There’s something soft about Loki’s voice as he shifts to sit on the ground beside her, something calming. Gentle. Drifa’s not used to gentleness. It makes her cry harder.

She hardly notices when he shucks off his cloak, only when he’s wrapping it around her shoulders like a blanket. “It’s all right, darling,” he soothes. “No need for tears. There’s nothing to be frightened of.”

Drifa inhales shakily. The cloak is warmer than any blanket she’s ever known, the feathers soft against her cheeks. She wishes she could burrow into it and never come out. “But I’m lost …”

“Well, that cannot be, as it seems I have found you.” Loki gives an easy grin. “One can hardly be lost and found at the same time, now, can they?”

She turns back towards him (how he’s not shivering without his cloak, she has no idea). She supposes he’s right – she’d certainly feels better here with him, with his cloak and his fire and his magic, than she had alone. At least it’s not as dark anymore …  

A rustling in the bushes to her right slices through her thoughts, and Drifa shrieks, slamming her hands into the ground in a frantic attempt to push herself away. The fire hisses when it hits the snow, dousing the clearing in blackness once more. It’s coming. It’s finally coming. The monster finally found us—

She cries out again when a hand grasps her left shoulder, but it’s only Loki, calm as can be as he hushes her softly. He mutters the words from earlier and another fire ignites in his free hand. The bush is still moving – something’s trying to crawl out. Drifa whimpers, but Loki rubs her shoulder soothingly.

“It’s all right, dear,” he whispers with an eager smile, holding the light higher so that she can see better. “Look!”

Drifa can’t believe her eyes.

It’s a goose, feathers as white as the snow across which she’s waddling as she wriggles free from the shrubbery. She pauses, tilting her head as she considers them, then with a little honk! that makes Drifa jump, the bush rustles again and six grey, fluffy goslings come scampering out behind her.

Drifa gapes. How is this possible? It’s far too cold for any goose to be here, let alone babies. This can’t be real. And yet here they are, waddling past her like nothing’s wrong. The goslings scurry to follow their mother, letting out squeaky little chirps as they run past her. One stops at Drifa’s boot and pecks the leather with its beak. She giggles – it’s such a tiny thing, she can barely feel its beak on her foot – and it chirps again, stumbling back into the snow. Across the clearing, the mother goose lets out another honk, and the gosling dashes off to join its siblings as they slip away into the dark.

Next to her, Loki is smiling. “See? No cause for alarm.” There’s a playful sparkle in his eyes, as well as the dancing reflection of the flames, and she finds herself wondering if the unnatural winter geese were magic in the same way as his fire. But before she has the chance to ask, her stomach lets out a mighty growl.

Loki’s gaze flickers down to her torso. “When have you last eaten, little one?”

Drifa bites her lip and looks down, crossing her arms over her stomach. When had she last eaten? It was long before she set out for firewood – the mistress had pulled her away before she had a chance to eat her table scraps. Someone else has probably eaten them by now …

Her stomach rumbles again. She’s very hungry, she realizes. She was so cold for so long she must not have noticed it. It feels wrong to complain though … Drifa’s not sure what to say. “I …”

Loki lets out a huff. “On second thought, I believe I can glean the answer myself.” There’s the sound of something being stabbed into the snow – Drifa looks up to see that the fire is now a torch, firmly planting in the ground in front of them. Loki does a strange flick of his wrist, and before she can blink he’s holding out an apple to her.

She hesitates, gaze shifting from the apple to his face. Is he angry? He definitely sounded displeased, and he’s not smiling anymore. Did the sound of her hunger irritate him? Besides, fresh apples are a rarity in the winter – certainly not to be wasted on the likes of her. Is it a trick?

But he only holds it out closer. “It’s all right. You can take it.”

It feels wrong, but with his encouragement the demands of her stomach are louder than her sense of decorum, and so Drifa takes the apple in trembling hands. Her first bite is a small one, just enough to pierce the skin and taste the sweet juice on her tongue, and it’s nearly enough to send her into tears yet again. Oh, it’s heavenly – luscious and ripe and perfect, the most delicious fruit she’s ever brought to her lips. She chomps down hard for another bite and the juice dribbles down her chin but she can’t bring herself to care. The flesh is somehow crisp and soft at the same time, and she tilts her head back as it melts in her mouth, euphoric.

Loki smiles. “That’s a good girl.”

The apple does not last long—Drifa practically inhales it, slurping the juice off her fingers like an animal. Maybe under different circumstances she’d be embarrassed, but right now it feels right. Beside her, Loki hums in amusement. She glances back up at him. Now that she’s seeing him without his cloak on, his clothes look even stranger. There is gold on his leathers, a swooping curve across his chest, as well as matching shoulder plates and bracers. It doesn’t look like regular armor though – certainly nothing like the bulky breastplates she’s seen her master’s men wearing.

“Why are you dressed so funny?”

She freezes almost as soon as the words leave her lips – such an insolent question, what was she thinking?! But Loki’s smirk only widens, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Not such a timid little mouse now, are we?” He shakes his head, grinning as he sits back against the rock. “I’m dressed in the fashion of my people, lovely. My clothes would be considered very normal where I’m from.” His gaze drops down to her collar. “Yours, on the other hand, would be seen as quite unusual.”

“Oh …” Drifa pauses. She’s never seen anyone dress like him before. Although she supposes she hasn’t seen many outsiders beyond visitors from settlements near to her master’s longhouse. “Is that far away?”

Loki nods. “Very far, I’m afraid. But it’s a far kinder land than this. Much more forgiving.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “Warmer, too.”

“Warmer?” she frowns. “But it’s winter.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But we have our seidr to weather the cold.” He nods his head towards the fire, still flickering brightly on its torch. After a moment, he grins softly. “Besides, you’ll find my home is … a bit more eternal than anything you’ll find here.”

Drifa is quiet for a moment. She imagines what that must be like, a sturdy house free of ice and snow, glowing with the constant warmth of magical fires. Maybe there were more cloaks like this one too, blankets that never let in the cold no matter how the temperature dropped. She allows herself a soft grin against the apple core.

No need for firewood.

It’s a nice thought. A scary one too, though – goodness, what would her master say if he knew she was fantasizing about living in a world of magicians? That she was sitting here with one now, enjoying his seidr fire and seidr apple? What was it he had said? Cowardly and villainous.

Drifa purses her lips. “My master doesn’t like seidr.”

“Your master is an imbecile.” Her eyes widen. He didn’t – he couldn’t!! She whips back to look at him, but Loki stares ahead, his features blank, as if he’s only made a statement about the weather.

“Besides,” he adds after a moment, turning to give her a wink. “I rather doubt you hold his opinion on the matter in very high regard. You were trying to work it yourself, when I came upon you.”

His voice is teasing, but Drifa feels as though she’s plunged into a frozen lake. “You … you won’t tell him, will you?” She inhales, throat tightening. “I wasn’t trying – I was just so cold, and—”

But Loki only laughs again and wraps an arm around her back, giving her shoulder a gentle pat. “Sweet thing. Your secret is safe with me.”

It’s a strange feeling, having his arm around her like that. Being held. It feels so safe, like a shield, protecting her from the darkness. She likes that. It’s nice to be protected. Warm too – that must be magic, how he manages to still feel so warm despite being out in the dead of winter in such thin clothing. Without thinking about what she’s doing, Drifa leans against his side, resting her head on his chest. Loki stiffens, but she hardly notices. His leather tunic is soft against her cheek. Warm and soft and safe. He relaxes again after a moment, his hand coming back to rub her upper arm in easy, gentle strokes. That feels nice too.

She’s nearly drifted off to sleep against his chest when he speaks again. “Do you have any family, Drifa? Brothers, sisters?”

Drifa shakes her head. As far as she knows, she’s alone in the world. “Do you?”

“I have a brother. A very loud one at that.” He chuckles. “You’d probably be frightened of him, skittish little mouse that you are. He’s well-meaning though.”

For some reason, the thought of Loki, with his soft voice and even softer step, having a loud brother makes Drifa giggle. “Can he do seidr too?”

“I’m afraid not – at least, not in the way that I do. He prefers a more conventional way of life.”

“Oh …” She wonders what conventional is, when you live in a magic land where everyone has seidr and it never gets cold.

The forest falls silent for a little while. She’s not sure for how long. Laying against his chest, she can hear his heartbeat, a faint, rhythmic lub-dup, and wrapped in the warmth of his cloak, it’s nearly enough to lull her to sleep. When Loki clears his throat, she can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since he last spoke.

“Now, darling,” he says. There are snowflakes in his hair, she realizes – when did it start snowing again? “As lovely as this little picnic has been, I fear the temperature is dropping even further, and you can’t stay out here forever.”

All at once, the panic returns. “What do you mean? Are you leaving?” He can’t leave, he can’t leave her here, if he leaves he’ll take the magic and the fire and the cloak and everything and she’ll go back to being cold and lost—  

“Oh sweet girl, no need to fret,” he soothes, stroking her side. “I have no intention of leaving you here. I can take you back to your longhouse – it’s not too far.”

“Oh …” She … she should feel relief at that. Hadn’t she hoped he might rescue her from her peril? She should be overjoyed that he’s kind and willing enough to see her back home. Home. The word feels empty.

Loki is studying her, his eyes glittering in the faint light of the fire. “Unless you don’t wish to return?”

“I …” Drifa hesitates – why is she hesitating? Would she rather slowly freeze to death out here? No, of course not … But what will be waiting for her when she returns, hours late and without the very thing she was sent for? A shiver runs down her spine. She knows what will be waiting for her. But … what other choice does she have?

“I have nowhere else to go …” she whispers finally, looking down at her hands to hide the tears once again pooling in her eyes.

 Loki lets out a low hum. “Well, there is an alternative.” He tips her chin up so that she’s looking at him. His features are serious. “You could come with me, back to my home.”

She inhales, so sharply it hurts. “Really?”

He nods. “You’d be safe and cared for and want for nothing. No more of this—” his hand drifts from her chin to her collar, slipping his fingers between the metal and her skin. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “—mistreatment. This I can swear to you.” He pulls his hand away, looking at her somberly. “But if you come with me, you’ll not be able to return here again.”

She bites her lip. Is it bad that she wants it? He said he lives far away, but she has no idea where … she doesn’t even know if he’s even a man. Shouldn’t she return to what she knows? But she thinks of her mistress’ shrill voice and violent hands, the meager rations she receives, the hard floor upon which she sleeps … Drifa doesn’t like what she knows.

Her voice is hoarse, but strong. “I want to go with you.”

“Are you certain?” There’s a weight behind Loki’s gaze as he regards her. “This is not a decision to be taken lightly, little one.”

She nods. “I’m certain.”

Loki’s smile is as wide as it is warm. “Very well. Hold on to me, love.” He reaches forward, wrapping one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees before he scoops her up as though she weighed nothing more than a feather. Drifa gasps as he stands – he’s so tall, she’s never been this far off the ground before. She burrows into the feather cloak and clings to his shoulders, digging her fingernails into the leather as she hides against his chest. He chuckles.

“Just one thing more before we go..”

With deft fingers, he unlatches her collar, pulling it free from her neck with only one hand. Drifa’s eyes widen – she’s not allowed to do that! Except … she supposes she is, now. He drops the collar on the ground with a muffled thunk as it sinks into the snow. Drifa lets out a shuddering breath and reaches for her throat. Her skin feels raw and exposed, but free. She feels herself grin. When she looks up, Loki is grinning right back at her.

“You’ll want to hold tight,” he says. “Our method of travel is … rather unconventional, at least to you mortals.”

“Wha – Mortals?” Her head spins with sudden recognition. “You – you mean—”

Loki smirks. “I mean that we’re going to Asgard, darling.”

…

There were precious few awake at that hour to see the flash of color that lit up the sky, for it lasted only a moment. It wasn’t until morning, in the embers of the untended-to fire, that it was discovered that the girl sent out for firewood never returned. A meager search was attempted – the master was not one to take the loss of his property lightly. They found her cloak first, a torn, ratty little thing frozen stiff in the snow not too far from the longhouse, then her collar about an hour’s walk away from that. With the snowfall in the night, any tracks had been lost, but it seemed safe to assume that the child had been dragged off and devoured by some beast of the forest. The mistress was irritated. Why the little fool wandered into the woods, instead of sticking to the woodpile as she had been told, was beyond her.

None of them had any idea of the magic and glory with which she had been swept away to the Realm Eternal, or that she now lived amongst the gods as one of them.

[lostonehero]

What remains after eternity

Homage

Lazarus has been in some sketchy places. Places not meant for human eyes. Places even gods feared to tread. However, that still didn't prepare him for this. Tim's mind seemed broken, worse than before. The air was humid and cold, and it smelled of rot. The area seemed to be abandoned.

A man, no, that wasn't right he looked like he was barely 19. His hair was cut in a military style, matching the uniform he was wearing. His blue eyes seemed distant. "You.... you shouldn't be here."

"I shouldn't be many places." Laz tilted his head. He didn't recognize the uniform, but that's probably because it's after his time on earth. He left and never looked back. "What happened?"

The kid looked down at his feet. "I was abandoned."

Laz reached out, and a bullet went through his hand. He takes a breath. "Let me help you."

"I can't be helped." Blue, tired eyes stared through Laz. "You don't belong here."

Laz was staring up at mechanical eyes, watching Tim wipe his mouth.

"What the fuck was that?" Lyf stared at the two.

Laz groans laying on the floor. "That is what happens when a mind is strong enough to force me out."

"Hurt you?" Tim tilted his head.

"No, I'm just. I'm just going to lie here." Laz takes a breath. "You ok?"

"Taste funny." Tim crouched down next to Laz poking at his leaking eyes.

"You probably shouldn't eat it, but I don't care." Laz looks over to Lyf. "If Thomas asks, I'm on the floor."

"Lazarus, seriously, what happened? Tim, don't eat that!" Lyf tries and fails to shoo Tim away.

Tim chuckles. "Like Jonny's babies."

"I'm not entertaining that comment." Laz sighs. "As I said, Tim's mind is strong enough to force me out. I need a moment before I even attempt again. Now, don't get me wrong. Strong doesn't mean healed it means dangerous. I'm going to have to talk to Scratch." He groans.

"Are you ok?" Lyf suppresses the urge to taste the fluid from Laz's eyes.

"Bruised ego mostly, with how long I've been at this, it's surprising to deal with this. Also, incredibly sore being forced out is really painful, but mostly hurt pride. I'm gonna be on the floor for awhile, sorry for making a mess, Aurora." Laz, let's out a breath.

"I've already called Brian and Thomas to grab him." Aurora chirps. "You depressed bastard."

"I resent that." Laz groans. "I am an orphan."

"I dont think that's the part you should be arguing." Lyf sighs. "Tim stop poking him."

"Hurt." Tim points at Laz.

"Not hurt." Laz huffs. "I'm just sore."

"Idiot." Lyf pinched his brow.

"I help." Tim gets up and grabs Laz with his vines.

"Fuck me." Laz can't even move his arms to cover his face.

"I will inform Brian and Thomas that Tim is taking him somewhere." Aurora sounded bemused.

"I'll follow as well." Lyf shakes his head.

.......

Jonny stepped out in his boxers, carrying Trevor on his back. "No more complaining, I'm taking you to your room."

"Dad, I can walk." Trevor mumbles he was pale, and his tail drooped behind him.

"You want to try that again?" Jonny huffs. "Just because all of you brats have my stubbornness doesn't mean that good thing."

Trevor huffs back. "Not a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, a big, strong man." Jonny chuckles. "Come on off to your room."

Trevor mutters something intelegalible.

"Dad! Trevor! Are you guys ok?" Thomas rolls over. "Just go without me, Brian."

Brian nods and keeps moving forward.

"Where were you two running to?" Jonny raised a brow.

"Tommy." Trevor reached out, then dropped his hand and yawns.

Jonny smiles with a sigh. "This is why I'm carrying you." He turns to Thomas. "Are you guys ok? Trevor told me what you guys were doing, and thank you."

"It was Trevor's idea." Thomas rubs the back of his neck. "Tim is carrying Laz around, and Laz got kicked out of Tim's head, which is the first time I've ever heard that happening. Laz claims he isn't hurt but can't move because he's sore like he overworked his body. He heals fast, so I'm not worried, but I am a bit concerned about what Tim thinks help means."

Jonny chuckles. "They'll be fine. Join in taking your brother back to his room."

Thomas adjusts his chair and rolls after his dad. "I... I can tell you what happened to him."

"I don't need to know." Jonny smiles softly. "You brats have your -"

"Tommy, tell dad. Gonna tell dad." Trevor groans, hiding his face in his father's shoulder. "Dad should know. Doctors aren't nice."

"I... Trevor, that literally has nothing to do with the terminus curse." Thomas pinched his brow.

"Your brother is on a different plane of reality at the moment Thomas cut him slack." Jonny snickers. "Come on, Trevor, we'll be there soon."

"Dad I was bad." Trevor mumbles.

"So am I." Jonny hums. "You ain't special."

"Noooo!" Trevor whines.

"Thomas, tell your brother no serious conversation when he's mentally gone." Jonny sighs.

"I don't think anything I'll say will help." Thomas frowns. "Trevor doesn't talk about where he was sent to when he turned 25. I was with Mae. We had each other to figure this out. Alex, well, they were just dropped with Aiden, so they were fine even met Izzy and Laz before we did. Janet, well, you already know how that was."

"It's bad." Trevor whines. "I was bad."

"Again, that's not special, you brat." Jonny huffs. "Would you like to hear my list of crimes?"

Trevor is quiet.

"That's what I thought." Jonny sighs. "There is ain't anything you brats can do to make me hate you nor be worse than I was. Hell, even Brian has done bad things, and he's the good one out of us."

"Baba, I'm sorry." Trevor whimpers.

Jonny stops in front of Trevor's room. "Alright, alright, that's enough. We ain't talking till you rest properly."

Thomas watches his dad wrap his brother up in blankets as tight as he can manage.

Trevor relaxes almost immediately and starts to purr as he falls asleep.

"What do you want me to wrap you up to?" Jonny crosses his arms with a smirk.

Thomas blushing. "I would say yes, but my legs are fused in this position, and I'm worried about my arms. Can I have a raincheck."

Jonny chuckles and shuts Trevor's door and ruffles Thomas's hair. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, I'm going to make Trevor's favorite meal, and you'll help me."

"I think I can manage." Thomas chuckles.

........

Marius blinks, staring at Lazarus, dropped in his nest by Tim, who just left. "How can I help you?"

"Your nest is weird compared to Thomas's." Laz blinks. "Um, kind of overdid it and got thrown out of Tim's head. My body is sore all over, and I can't move. I really don't know why Tim dumped me in here."

"I am a doctor." Marius frowns. "Although he could have just put you in the infirmary. I don't understand how he gets in here. My door is locked for a reason."

"In his defense, I don't think he knows either." Laz huffs. "I don't need a doctor. I just need to rest a night or two of sleep it will fix this. It's been a very long time, but that is what fixes this." He looks away. "Scratch would tell you the same. He's the one who taught me to go into people's heads."

"It sounds like this isn't normal." Marius hums, placing a blanket around Laz. "Why do you think you were kicked out?"

Laz narrows his gaze. "I was warned about this." He sighs. "Fine, I'll play along, but none of this leaves this room. It's not good."

"Doctor patient privilege, your secrets are safe with me, or I'll just forget." Marius frowns.

"I don't envy your position either. I can look in your head when I'm up to it if you like." Laz pauses. "Nothing too bad just to see how fractured your mind is if it is even that. I won't look at any memories that would require you to be asleep. Can't get consent if you're asleep."

"That is kind of you, but I rather you didn't." Marius takes a breath. "So why is this bad?"

"It's good and bad. Good because his mind is strong, and he's in there fighting. Bad because it's incredibly unstable. He's going to have more of these reality slips before it gets better. There isn't an easy way to say this, but we will have to keep those cages and things set up for future use." Laz looks back at Marius.

Marius sighs. "I had a feeling that would be the case." He crosses his arms. "Do you want me to carry you back to your room?"

"What, you aren't going to ask more questions?" Laz raised a brow.

"I don't need to. You don't have the information and are assuming." Marius gets up as Laz flinches.

"You purposely make the others underestimate you." Laz, let's out a soft oof as he is picked up.

Marius hums softly.

.......

Lyf stops. "O-oh, when did Tim get in o-your room."

"It is ours, Lyf. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but we are bonded. It always will be ours." Marius hums.

"Like I get it, no memory and whatever, but your body remembers isn't that enough?" Laz blinks. "I mean, your hair literally triggered the heat before you got to this state."

"Why do you know that?" Marius raised his brow.

"I never said I didn't know the xeon language. I just can't speak it. It doesn't work well with human vocal cords." Laz sighs. "Look, I don't have a dog in this race, but that's just my two cents. Neither of you can predict the future, so why dance around the present like you two are strangers?"

"Because I'm not an asshole?" Lyf rolls his eyes. "Why are you such a dick?"

"Age mostly." Laz tries to shrug and fails. "Also, the fact I really don't like romcoms. Even if you don't remember Marius, you clearly have feelings for Lyf, and Lyf is so head over heels for you that he would follow you to the end of time."

Marius blushes a mix of purple and black.

Lyf matches the blush with his own.

"No wonder why everyone gets annoyed at you two." Laz sighs. "This is clearly not working, so either drop me in the infirmary you've passed twice, or I can keep going."

"I... uh...." Marius swallows.

Lyf covers his face and groans.

"Please don't use me as an excuse to spend time together. It's weird." Laz sighs. "Can you please just drop me off."

"R-right." Marius quickly rushed back to the infirmary to drop Laz off into a bed.

.......

Marius sits in the gardens next to Lyf. "I..."

"Ivy told me about what happened." Lyf rubs his arm. "I just want to go at your pace. I didn't want to make you feel unwanted."

"I don't feel..." Marius reached out, lacing his fingers with Lyf's. "I don't know what is truly me from the instincts and hormones. I know I feel safe with you. It's still so fresh in my mind, and I get thrust here. I'm supposed to be different. Myself now has long past."

Lyf sighs. "You're still Marius, and the past few centuries, I've learned so much about you, and I will learn something else new as time moves on. I look forward to eternity with you no matter what time period your mind is in." He smiles. "Also how the fuck did you get doctor from mechanical engineer? Just because you're medically trained now doesn't mean it makes any sense to me. I can handle mech pilot, I can handle your insanity, but that what the fuck Marius?"

Marius blushes, shaking in a silent story. "That's a funny story, actually."

Lyf listens with a stupid smile on his face, which is cut short when Brian trots in not human shaped. "Oh, uh, hello."

"Hello Brian." Marius smiles then gives a soft oof as Brian lays on both Marius and Lyf. "Ivy was right. You are taking advantage of your new form."

Brian chitters and yawns.

Lyf chuckles. "He is quite soft. Tell me more about your adventures."

Marius smiles. "I guess we do now have the time."

The peace was interrupted. "So this is cute and all, but I have a few questions."

A eerie yelp came from Brian's maw as he skittered back and returned to a human shape. Marius shouted in shock, and his horns grew in an instant. Lyf shrieked and stumbles back.

"Rude, anyway." Mae hops out of the tree.

Lyf takes a breath. "Have you been there the whole time?"

"No, I was following you two from the vents earlier." Mae grins. "For being an acolyte, you're not very observant. Also, I love watching Laz get annoyed with other people's romantic problems. It's the only thing that really annoys him ironically, considering how he gets with Thomas."

Marius takes a few deep breaths, calming down that his horns return to nubs. "Why? Isn't it dangerous given your older body?"

"Rude again, not made of glass." Mae rolls her eyes. "However, I was looking for dad, but you guys seemed more interesting at the moment. As much as listening in on you two falling in love again, I really don't care, so I actually wanted to interrupt to ask Lyf a few questions about his god."

"Why do you want to know about Yog Sogoth?" Brian beat Lyf to the question.

"I'm making a timeline. You see the God's realm is separate from time and space kind of so the events of Gram's murder spree happened, I want to see if it happened before or after your galaxy was eaten." Mae shrugs. "I've been working with Laz on it for ages. It's weird because it affected Laz when it happened almost immediately because Scratch picked him when he just became whole again, which was before humans even went to the moon the first time. However, thinking reality wise, the bifrost happens eons later."

"That's a question for Jonny." Marius blinks, getting a headache trying to figure out the sheer math.

"Isn't that like a paradox?" Lyf stares blankly at Mae.

"I was a doctor, now a pilot, so I can't help you." Brian sighs. "Again, as Marius said, that kind of stuff is Jonny's expertise."

"You guys are useless." Mae huffs. "It's basic theoretical mathematics and creating a timeline. You would think you guys would have thought of something." She grumbles as she walks away.

"It's like a second, Jonny." Brian blinks.

"Fuck you're right." Lyf rubs his temples.

Marius smiles. "Jonny is a really good dad."

.......

"Aha, that's where you went." Scratch appeared next to Lazarus in the infirmary. "Alright, I know you hate this, but I would like to confirm what Thomas told me and Valerie."

Lazarus was in a church, his leaking eyes were replaced with amber eyes, his black hair was brown, and in a loose ponytail. He was in priest garb and seemed to be praying. "I told you I didn't want you in my head without discussing first." He leans back in the pew.

Scratch sits next to Laz. "Never thought you would ever come back here."

"Consider it nostalgia. It's been a long time since someone was strong enough to send me out." Laz sighs. "I suppose that is why you're here."

"That's one reason. Is it too much to want to check on you?" Scratch smiles.

"Still not my father." Laz smiles softly. "Tim's mind is strong, and even with my strength, I was unprepared for how he would lash out. I don't think they filmed everything, nor was it accurate for how long he was being tortured. The first few lobotomizes failed."

"I know." Scratch crosses his arms. "I've been scrubbing over the videos, and there are purposeful sections missing. There's a reason why so many of us enjoy humanity, and it's not for good reasons."

"Anything that could help me?" Laz thinned his lips. "Anything you're willing to share?"

"I don't want you to go back in his head, not until I can have a look." Scratch sits up. "I respect your abilities and how powerful you are even compared to myself. However, I would even state a claim that my own father would be horrified at the things done, and I don't think I've ever considered him to have a limit." He sighs.

Laz frowns. "What do you want me to do? I'm not just going to sit back. Tim is important to my father in law and the entire crew of Aurora and Thomas and his siblings already consider him a second father."

"Do you still have that cloak?" Scratch looks at Laz, who grimaced.

"I do." Laz sighs.

"Keep it close." Scratch gets up. "And you have Thomas to look after. I may be able to-"

"No. That isn't my decision. As I said before, stop offering me that." Laz scowls. "Get out and let me pray to beings who never existed."

Scratch frowns. "I apologize again." He vanishes, leaving Lazarus alone.

Laz returns to softly praying as he turns his head down.

.......

"Oi fuckhead wake up." Alex crosses their arms standing over Trevor who groans.

"Fuck off Alex." Trevor huffs. "I'm comfy."

"Dad made you dinner." Alex rolls their eyes. "Get the fuck up and enjoy it. The others think it's poisoned because they don't trust dad's ability to cook." They pause. "Hasn't actually stopped Marius or Lyf, though."

"Are they disappointed?" Trevor struggles out of the tightly wrapped blanket.

"Oh, immensely, but I can't tell which one." Alex snickers when Trevor throws his shirt at them and gets a clean one.

Trevor yawns and rubs his eyes. "Alright, alright, I'm coming." He groans as he hops out of bed. "My body still hurts."

"Thomas says that's normal." Alex smirks.

"Fuck Thomas." Trevor scoffs.

"Laz is already doing that." Alex chuckles, pulling back their hair. They were always the first to go completely gray.

"I hate you." Trevor rolls his eyes.

They both playfully banter all the way to the dining hall.

"You two don't have to look so disappointed." Jonny huffs, his tail lashing behind him.

"I wanted to eat something bad." Marius scowls eating a second helping.

Jonny rolls his eyes. "Again banned from baking."

Marius puffs out his cheeks. "Damnit."

Lyf snickers. "Ignore him this is very good."

"Damn right, it is." Jonny huffs. "You two brats sit the fuck down and I'll feed ya."

Trevor nods and sits next to Thomas, who is eating quietly. Alex sits across from Marius and Lyf.

Thomas swallows his bite and puts his fork down. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm still in fucking pain." Trevor sighs. "But you already know that. I want to go back to bed." He thanks his dad for the food.

"It doesn't really get easier, but you'll get used to it." Thomas crossed his arms. "What were you talking about before?"

Trevor raised a brow. "Before what?"

"When dad was carrying you right before he bundled you up in blankets." Thomas raised a brow.

"Well, I know dad is the one who did that because you could never get it right, but we were talking?" Trevor matched the raised brow.

Jonny sits next to Trevor. "I told you so."

Thomas huffs. "Shut up."

Trevor has a look of mild confusion. "Genuinely, I have no idea what you are talking about or why dad's right. Um, where Laz? He's normally glued to your side when your legs go."

"Infirmary." Thomas sighs. "Speaking of which, where is Tim?"

"I didn't put a tracker on him." Jonny rolls his eyes. "He's a grown ass adult even with a fucked up mind he can defend himself and he's somewhere on Aurora or my mom's ship. Aurora would alarm if he left."

"Tim is currently napping in his patch of dirt in the garden. He is lying face down, and a new thing has happened flowers have grown over him like a blanket." Aurora chirps. "Also, Nastya is coming to kill the thing you cooked even though I told her it was proper food. I understand why she doesn't trust you that creature is still in my vents."

"I can fucking cook!" Jonny huffs as his kids snicker around him.

"Unfortunately, I have to agree because I was craving something burnt." Marius sighs, laying his head on the table.

Alex snickers louder.

"You burn baked goods, not an actual meal." Mae scoffs. "That's a waste of good meat."

"I can set something on fire if that will help." Janet smiles from her seat.

"I really rather you wouldn't." Lyf frowns.

"Surprise the space cop is a fucking downer." Mae rolls her eyes.

"No fun allowed." Janet huffs.

"Why are you even here?" Alex gets up with their plate.

Thomas chuckles. "Fucker can't handle a little arson."

"I'm going to flick lit matches at you." Trevor clicks his tongue.

"Jonny, control your children." Lyf looks over to glare.

"One they are adults and can do what they want and two you're being a little bitch." Jonny grins.

Marius snorts laughing.

Aurora chirps out a laugh. "I agree with your children they need a new siblings."

Jonny growls. "I'm going to say no on principal now you fucks."

"So I fucking told you!" Thomas huffs.

.......

"Lazarus wasn't wrong. This place sure is a mess." Scratch hums softly, walking through a horror scene. "You are quite strong, but you are still merely human."

"Get out! You don't belong here!" A voice shouts, and rotten vines tries to grab Scratch but go right through him.

"That is quite cute. You keep trying, but I'm not leaving till I get to your center." Scratch groans. "I sound more like my dad every day." He phases through a shut door, and the scenery changes. "Oh!"

A man with bouncing curls and coffee color skin stares at Scratch. He has a pair of broken goggles on a worn military uniform on. He was sitting in a bunk on a base that no longer existed in reality.

"It's not often I get find surprises." Scratch smiles with too many teeth. "How long have you been in here?" Are you even aware of the world around since you died?"

The man frowns. "I got stuck in here trying to get Timmy to notice me, but I just went through him. I think I realized I was dead at that point, but I ended up here. Did we win?"

"You humans are fascinating creatures. However, does it really matter if you guys won or not? The war has long been forgotten. Times a fickle bitch like that." Scratch tilts his head. "However, this is a problem. You're unknowingly blocking Tim from recovering, well, not blocking, making it harder. You really are out of the loop. I can fix that."

"Fix...? What did you do to Tim?" The man growls and gasps as he his picked up by his throat.

"Now don't get feisty, I have to figure out how this will work. A deal would suffice, wouldn't you agree?" Scratch hums. "You don't really have a choice because I will remove you either way."

"What are you?" The man growls.

Scratch smiles. "A god, for one. Two, how about I take you out and give you a form that will last just as long as Tim will, and in exchange, you'll be permanently removed from his head."

"Fine. Fine, you win. I don't buy the god thing, you bloody devil." The man vanishes with Scratch.

Scratch cracks his back, holding a glowing green flame in his hand as a black goo surrounds it, and it becomes a pair of dog tags. He places them down in the garden and vanishes.

TS finds the dog tags and assumes they're Jonny's.

.......

"Attetion, there is an intruder that has suddenly appeared in front of Jonny's door. They are wearing a male uniform from the moon war where Jonny picked up Tim. He has broken goggles on and has brown skin and big ringlet curls. They currently don't seem hostile and frankly look quite confused. However, you may use this information how you wish, and Nastya has given me permission to use my alarms until they are apprehended. Happy hunting!" The robotic female voice was the first thing Bertie heard as he got to his feet.

"Where the fuck am I?" Bertie shakes his head and pulls down his goggles. He heard shouting and decided to run would be better than to confront people who were hunting him.

"Remember we want him alive. That means no lethal force, as if any of you is capable of that." The woman laughs through the speakers.

"Found him!" A voice rings out.

"Use me at a battering ram!" A different voice shouts.

"Dibs!"

"Fuck!"

Bertie keeps running adrenaline running in his veins as he runs into an open garden. He didn't have time to dwell on the face. There is something like this on a spaceship. He screams in shock as his feet get lifted off the ground and he is hanging upside down.

"Hi Bertie!" A entirely familiar cheery voice answers.

"T-Tim?!" Bertie gasps adrenaline fading. "W-wha-" His vision went black.

.....

"Fucking second time he gets to end the hunt." Ashes growls.

Jonny froze. "Ashes shut up." He runs towards Tim and motions to his kids to stay. "Tim what did you call him?"

"You know him, it's Bertie." Tim smiles wide.

"Tim, Bertie is dead." Jonny steps back as Tim steps closer to him.

"He doesn't bleed right, but it is Bertie." Tim pulls Jonny into a hug. "He's wearing what he died in trying to save you, which was very stupid." He says while smiling. He kets go of Jonny. "His goggles are even broken from where you headbutted him to try to remove your gas mask to put on him. It was quite a stupid death."

Jonny swallows. "Tim, how about we put Bertie down? Trevor wants to talk to you."

Tim pauses his expression flickers for a moment before Bertie's unconscious body falls to the ground. "Not mad?"

Trevor is pushed in front of his siblings. "I uh no? Why would I be mad? I mean, it was bound to happen. If not you, it would be something else."

"That is a fair argument for our track record." Mae points to Janet.

"Again rude but fair." Janet shrugs. "To be fair, I was expecting you to say Alex because they always get into fights over their rigged bets."

"I mean that would work too and I'm not against it." Alex shrugs.

"Thomas?" Mae smirks looking at her twin.

"Fuck you." Thomas huffs.

"I mean, if you aren't gonna say it, you have a terrible temper." Trevor thins his lips.

"The embodiment of too angry to die." Mae snickers.

Thomas pinched his brow and sighed heavily.

Trevor realized that dad was using this to pick up Bertie and get him somewhere to be looked over. "Um, can I get a hug? I mean, as a thank you to get this over with."

Tim's lips quirked up into a smile. "Hug, baby?"

"Not really a baby, but sure." Trevor gasps as Tim runs and pulls him into a tight hug. "Actually, you know what? I'm not leaving. You have a tight hug." He starts to purr as his face gets red.

"Good baby!" Tim smiles wide.

"Tim, I think you keep doing that he's going to fall asleep." Thomas clears his throat sort of jealous.

"Fuck that I want a nap. Hug me next." Mae also caught up quickly. She also really missed being bundled up tight, but just like her dad will never admit it.

Tim looks behind him. "Jonny took Bertie." He holds Trevor in a bridal carry. "That's ok. You are very good." He turns back and smiles. "Babies are mine now!"

Trevor shakes his head out of his daze. "Wait what?"

Tim grabs the rest of them with his vines. "Naptime for clever babies."

"I mean, at least he's taking me in my chair." Thomas sighs.

"Don't wanna break legs." Tim hums as he begins to wall forward.

"Honestly, though, wouldn't mind a nap." Alex yawns.

"That's because you pulled an all-nighter creating a new betting pool with Aurora on the probability of us getting new siblings and what gender they will pick." Janet rolls her eyes.

Mae raised a brow. "And you thought I was bad about you and Laz."

Thomas blinks. "Actually, yeah, I think Alex is the worst now."

"I stand by my creations." Alex crosses their arms. "Also, everyone who knew already placed bets."

Thomas just shakes his head.

"Babies need nap now." Tim hums the tune of Tim goes crazy.

.......

"I have to say this is the first time I've ever seen something like this." Carmillia laughs. "I can't say I'm bored with my imprisonment."

"I hate to say it, but Carmillia is right. I have no idea what to make of this." Raphaella sighs. "Tests literally show nothing wrong but his blood is a different color."

"Of course it doesn't." Laz groans walking into the lab. "I know excatly what this is and who did this."

"Care to share?" Carmillia crosses her arms.

"Scratch, the god who made me their acolyte. I had a feeling a spirit was trapped in his head, but I didn't really think he would be pulled out, let alone given a physical body again. Remove his dog tags." Laz points and Raphealla does, and the body vanishes. "It's always anchored. Those dog tags are his anchor he'll reform once you put them down."

"Is this common?" Raphaella tilts her head, placing the tags down, watching with interest as Bertie reappers.

Laz huffs out a bitter laugh. "It's the closest you'll find Scratch acting like his father. It's cruel, and there is only a handful of these I've seen. Bertie has been cut off from ever moving on, and of course, he had to agree to it for it to work. The only peace he can now get is having his anchor in a place he can not reform. Those tags are indestructible. Trust me, I've seen the attempts at trying." He steps forward. "Get Jonny back in here. It would be best if you had someone he knew to explain this." He vanishes without another word.

Raphealla frowns. "How uquine, I wouldn't mind testing the limits with consent, of course." She quickly grins.

"That sounds splendid." Carmillia grins back.

.......

Jonny holds his jaw and sighs. "One, if you're going to punch me, make sure you're prepared." He raised his brow as Bertie curses, holding his hand. "Two, I can't change the fact that time has passed. Be mad, but know this is your reality now."

"Bloody fuck, what is wrong with your face?" Bertie rubs his broken hand.

"New Texans such as myself have reinforced bones for starters, and our skulls are built to take damage, hence why I headbutt." Jonny motions to his horns. "Also, why do you think New Texans are short? Our skin is padded, and our bodies are made for impacts. We have denser body mass for a reason. I can pull myself out of a sandpit being buried alive. You humans ain't the default."

Bertie sighs. "Fine, I don't have to like it, but why are you telling me any of this? Why hasn't Tim come out to talk to me?"

Jonny frowns and looks away. "That's another reason, Tim's hurt."

"You're immortal. Try again." Bertie scowls.

"We can still be hurt." Jonny mutters quietly. He takes a breath and grabs Bertie. "It would be better if you saw the truth because you're sure as shit ain't gonna believe me."

Bertie follows with uncertainty in his features. They arrive on a different ship.

A woman stood in the entrance with a raised brow. She was the same height as Jonny, her horns curled around her ears, unlike Jonny's. She looked similar to Jonny. Her arms were crossed. "What brings you here?"

Jonny sighs. "Unfortunately, this man won't believe me if I tell him the truth." He looked uncomfortable. "I need dad to show him the stuff about Tim."

The woman frowns and unhooks her watch, handing it over to Jonny. "Are you sure?"

"I won't be watching." Jonny sighs. "Bertie here will be watching till he asks for it to stop."

Bertie narrows his gaze. "How can I trust you didn't fuck with the footage."

"I wish it was doctorared." Jonny shakes his head, tossing the watch to Bertie. "Show him the truth."

Bertie rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say."

The watch comes to life, and the video starts to play. Jonny heads inside with the woman.

........

"Was it really wise to leave that man with your father watching that?" Valerie sips her tea.

Jonny frowns. "The idiot got himself killed, giving me the gas mask. I tried to save him, but he's stubborn." He shakes his head. "No, he's angry, and I don't think anything I could say would make him believe me. He shouldn't have to see Tim like this without the context."

"You've become a good man, Jonny." Valerie smiles. "I'm glad we finally got to reunite."

Jonny smiles softly. "I suppose I can't argue with ya mom." He sighs. "What did Scratch even do?"

"Well, from what he told me, he found Bertie in Tim's head. Which isn't unheard of spirits getting trapped in the living quite often, and when that living person dies, they move on together. Well, that's how it's supposed to happen." Valerie sips her tea. "Although obviously none of us stay dead for that to work. Apparently, Bertie was creating a block unintentionally and so Scratch removed him. It's his fault for accepting the deal."

Jonny nods and stops before he makes a noise when Bertie runs in, throwing the watch at Jonny, which Valerie catches.

"You're so fucked up! How the fuck did you create this?" Bertie was fuming.

Valerie puts the watch back on reconnecting it to something Bertie doesn't see. "Now, he didn't create that. You have humanity to thank for that."

"What? So you're saying... you're saying.... bloody hell." Bertie covers his face.

Jonny sighs getting up. "I tried to warn you. We can't die, but that doesn't mean we can't be hurt, tortured, get sick, and destroyed. Tim.... Tim is recovering. He should be napping with my brats."

"Oh, he is. TS sent me pictures." Valerie smiles softly.

"Wait, one, you have kids?" Bertie stares at Jonny. "Who would have your kids?"

"Me." Jonny rolls his eyes. "Why do people keep asking me that?"

Bertie pauses as something clicks. "Oh right, um, sorry.... also, isn't Tim radioactive? Shouldn't you be worried about your kids?"

Jonny snickers. "We're from a desert planet. We don't have the thing Earth has protecting it from a suns radiation." He takes a breath. "Besides, that isn't what you should be worried about. How Tim reacts to being woken should be your concern."

"What?" Bertie stares at Jonny.

.......

Tim is curled around Laz, who looked annoyed. Thomas was awake trying very hard not to laugh. Everyone else was out cold.

Bertie and Jonny stared at the scene.

Jonny opens his mouth and pauses. "How did Laz get involved?"

Thomas covers his mouth taking a deep breath.

Laz huffs, causing Tim to curl around tighter. "I made the mistake of looking for my partner."

Bertie quietly. "Is he an alien too?"

Jonny snorts. "No, he's human."

"But his eyes." Bertie motions to his own face.

Jonny starts to cackle manically. He wakes up everyone.

"I'm so glad you find this hilarious." Laz sighs as Tim hugs tighter.

"Mmmm, Jonny." Tim mutters. "Laz is a good pillow priest."

This causes Thomas to break laughing. "I'm fucking stealing that."

"I hate everyone in this room." Laz groans.

"Tim, come on, get up. Bertie wants to talk to you." Jonny sighs.

Tim unwrapped himself and got up rubbing his face, Bertie notes that he purposely avoids his eyes. "Ok we can talk."

Bertie takes in the image of his friend. Tim was skinny, skinner than even the worst times on the base. He was pale and looked exhausted. His hair was buzzed short, and he knew the man hated it when it was buzzed for the military. The vines did come out of his skin, and it looked swollen like he was tugging at them. His clothes were purposely hemmed to be shorts and short sleeved. He had a pair of goggles around his neck, and he had a feeling that was just out of comfort. There was a longer lanyard around his neck with a strange dial. He didn't know what that was. "Hey Tim, it's been a while."

"You've been dead." Tim tilts his head.

[kinky-pen]

Big Bimbo

Rating: Mature Pairing: HikaHaru Contains: Bimbofication kink (sort of), Weight Gain, Chubby kink, Clothing Malfunction, Button Popping, Obesity, sub!Hikaru, dom!Haruhi, Bratting, mentions of Immobility/Mobility issues. Summary: Hikaru loves being a dumb bimbo for his girlfriend. He also loves that he's eaten himself out of his tight little shorts, but he's not just going to admit he has.

It had taken so long.

Hikaru will admit that, since crossing the 500lb mark, he'd gotten extremely lazy. It was just so much work to get his bloated, heavy, blubbery body to do anything, and he just couldn't be asked.

He was just too obese and hot to be forced into taking the stairs, when most buildings had perfectly serviceable elevators - even if he did get some stunned looks from other people hoping to ride. He was too corpulent and cute to be made to walk more than a street or two, huffing and puffing all the way, when he could be sat on the couch, gaming and eating bag after bag of snacks, rubbing at his blubber with cheeto-dusted fingers as his tummy refused to be covered by his shirt.

His figure was one that demanded attention and pampering, swelling him up even bigger and breaking any "normal" scale beneath him. Not that he could see the screen anymore, not with all the fluffy paunch in the way. Still, Haruhi liked seeing it on occasion, and the cracks in the plastic during the last weigh in on that scale was just the cherry on top of the sundae...

... Fuck, he could go for a couple pints of ice cream about now, loaded with chocolate and cookie dough. Probably good timing, honestly. It wasn't that unusual anyway, lunch had been a good hour ago, and his hands were grabby for something more to stuff with.

Still, he was proud he actually managed to do it! And what was "it"?

"Oh my God, Hika, are you kidding me?" Haruhi huffed, lips quirked in mirth at the scene in front of her and cheeks red, "I can't believe they got passed your fat thighs."

"I don't know what you mean," He answered, doing his best to play the unaware little idiot, "These still totally fit."

The shorts really didn't.

Hikaru looked a sight. His immense thighs were fully out, showing off angry, red stretch marks which only displayed the speed at which he'd eaten himself to a quarter of a ton. They were hot pants, after all, but even so, the seams on the sides were pulled as taught as you could imagine, fraying open at the widest, plumpest roll of his hips and settling below a truly impressive muffin top.

The crowning glory, however, was the undone button and zip, which allowed his vast gut ample space to spread and droop over the denim. From the front, you could barely tell he was wearing anything at all, hidden by the soft heft. He had something of an apron belly, but honestly, when you reach a certain point of fat, gravity just makes it droop no matter what.

"Oh, really?" Haruhi challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, babe. It's not like I've put on much weight, after all. Still sexy as ever," He teased.

Both of them knew that was a lie, not even the biggest idiot could be so blind that they didn't realise they were over 500lbs. Especially not when they couldn't even tie their shoes without their engorged tummy getting in the way. But, it was the idea that got them both off; a pretty little dummy too braindead to notice hundreds of pounds of fat piling on their frame.

"Well, then why are your shorts open, babe?" Haruhi asked with a toothy grin, "I don't think you can get them buttoned over all this belly."

She stepped forward, grabbing thick handfuls of his flab and shaking them. For a moment, they both just watched the ripples, the rolls bouncing, how the stretch marks around his belly button moved and stretched. Hikaru couldn't help but be so incredibly hard at his own body, the evidence of his laziness and gluttony. Haruhi felt the same and, if he knew his girlfriend (which he did), she was probably thinking about all the way she could get off on just his lard-filled stomach - never mind his fuckable tits, his waddle-causing thighs.

"That's just the style I'm going for," He excused, "I could close them if I wanted to, Haru."

Haruhi just gave him that condescending look that set every part of him ablaze. Like she wanted to take away everything that could make his poor little brain overwork itself. Like all she really needed him to do was sit, game, and get even fatter than he was now.

"Whatever, I just wanted to get a little snack, because it's been way too long since lunch and I'm hungry again," He explained, waddling over to the fridge.

"An hour is too long?" She laughed, but he could feel her heated gaze on his massively overfed ass.

He made sure to give her the best view of it possible as he bent at the waist, searching the freezer for the fully loaded ice cream he knew was in there. His belly hang hit his knees, but the denim cradled the swell so nicely, pushing it out a bit further than it'd naturally go. It'd been months since he was able to see his feet at all, even if he pushed down and squished at his lard, but to see it push out even farther was so incredibly attractive.

"Ugh, why is the bottom draw so far away," He lamented, spreading his legs apart wider in an effort to get a little closer to his prize. That was, actually, not for show - he wasn't lying about it being too long from lunch, and he really wanted his ice cream.

He wanted nothing more than to bloat up even further with sweet, thick cream. Put away so much and then still act like he had no idea why he was so big - like he didn't think he was big at all.

"Maybe because you're getting too fat to bend down, now?" Haruhi offered, "Oh, but you said you haven't gained weight. Right, fatass?"

Hikaru shuddered. He couldn't help it, he adored Haruhi allowing herself to bully him. It'd taken a lot of conversation, and now he was enjoying the fruits of it all. It didn't help that the shudder caused his rolls upon rolls to jiggle even more, aware so keenly of his girlfriends love of how much of a pig he was.

He'd be a prize one, after all. One that broke records. Haruhi's blue ribbon piggy that just got more and more lard filled each time he was seen in public.

"That's right!" He asserted, "But... Can you get this for me? It's way too much work to bend over so far."

Again, not really a lie. He was huffing and puffing, a bit out of breath, just from the mere task of getting himself more to eat. How fucking hot of him.

Haruhi did, with a cluck of her tongue that managed to be both sympathetic and degrading. He backed up a couple of steps to allow her access to the freezer, he was much too wide for her to simply reach around anymore.

"I wanted a couple of pints of that new ice cream we got," He informed, hands rubbing at his belly as it grumbled in anticipation, "The one with cookie dough and chocolate chips."

She did as she was asked, handing the cartons to him with a spoon. He weighed up the pros and cons of eating it on the sofa, but all that time spent waddling to the living room, when it could be used for stuffing his plump face even further, wasn't that appealing.

"Let me guess, the shirt was also a crop top when you bought it? And it's totally not stretched out so much you can't tell what the graphic is even meant to be?" Haruhi pushed a little further, watching intently as Hikaru loaded up his spoon and pushed it through his plush lips, cheeks puffing up even further with the food.

"It shrunk in the dryer," He lied, mouth full of food, tone as obstinate as a brat like him could be, "It's cute a little cropped."

A little was the understatement of the century. That shirt had refused to go over more than his tits for the past month, and now it was showing a little underboob. Fuck, he was getting so obese. A BMI of nearly 80 was no joke, outdated system or not.

Not to mention, he was still gaining. He wasn't going to stop, just because he had some clothing malfunctions and was now too fat for his gamer chair. That's what couches were for, even if theirs let out a dissatisfied groan whenever he sat on it.

Imagine if, one day, he was heavy enough to break the fucking couch. He was already turning into such a blob, might as well go all out. He could stay in bed all day, eating and eating, and Haruhi could use him as she pleased - not like he'd be able to even stand up at that point, pinned down by his own blubber.

He'd just eat and eat until he broke the bed.

Haruhi interrupted his gorging for a moment, barely half way through the first pint, which he was sure to immediately whine about. He was just so hungry, after all.

She didn't answer his whimpers, however, just tugged at the flaps of his shorts in an effort to close them.

"Come on, suck in," She instructed, "If these can close, and stay closed while you eat your "little snack", then I'll agree you're still as "thin" as ever."

Hikaru bit down a grin. Honestly, he didn't think they'd button now, let alone after bloating from the first of his between-meal binges, but hey. He was sure Haruhi was thinking of ways to make this even more interesting.

"Duh, I'm right about this," He assured, but sucked in as far as he physically could anyway.

He looked down as Haruhi tugged and tugged, watching the ripples in his softness, realising that, even sucking in as far as he could, he still had no hope of seeing his toes. His fat was so soft and mouldable, grown from sugar and overabundance, combined with no exercise.

She really was trying her hardest to get that little button in the hole. She grunted with the effort, lip between teeth, and Hikaru couldn't help but associate that with the last time they fucked - Haruhi ruthlessly pounding into him as he could only moan and cry around the gag in his mouth.

"You getting hard isn't going to give me more fabric to work with," She reminded him. Hikaru could only grin at that, admiring how valiantly she was trying, sucking in until the very hidden muscles of his abdomen were screaming for release.

He wasn't uncomfortably hard, but he was definitely getting very turned on at the spoils of his gluttony and indulgence.

With a lot of strength and, possibly, a miracle, Haruhi finally managed to wrestle the button into the hole. There was no hope of zipping the shorts up - tan, doughy fat quickly made sure of that by pulling the zipper teeth as far apart as physically possible.

Slowly, as carefully as he could, Hikaru breathed out.

The waistband was unbearably tight, cutting it almost like a corset, but his fat was eager to spread and expand to other places in hopes of escape. His upper belly was a veritable shelf, pushed up and proud, while his lower belly looked so massively plump. The words "muffin top" seemed too miniscule to apply, everything looking like sausage meat trying to escape its wrapper.

God, didn't he feel like a pig. A dumb, fucking sexy one at that.

"See," He huffed and puffed, feeling the immensely tight fabric almost groan, "Still fits... as good as... ever..."

"And you aren't out of breath from trying to get 2XL shorts to button over your gut?" Haruhi laughed, "You didn't even do the work, you just sucked in."

Hikaru defiantly took a bite of ice cream, determined to earn whatever Haruhi had in mind. It seemed that a small bite was all it was going to take, however.

The button burst off the shorts, Hikaru nearly moaning as he felt the surge of fat and its heaviness as it drooped over the useless flaps once more. He could still feel rippling jiggles, the movement of it all so sensual as the flavour of the sugar and cream glided along his tongue.

This was what he was meant to be, a pretty pig in lipstick and too small shorts, all for his feeder's viewing pleasure. All for Haruhi to fondle, bite and suck.

With her dark eyes burning into him, her lips quirked in a cruel and devious smile, he did what he always did when this aroused...

He took another bite.

[the-nerdiest-insanity]

I'll Weather Any Blow

When soulmates can feel each other's pain, it takes Arthur a shockingly long to figure out Merlin is the one sharing with him. Yet as Arthur keeps getting increasingly worse injuries, he's left to wonder what the hell Merlin is actually doing!

on AO3

[canon typical violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, canonical character death, spoilers for season one]

Ships: Merlin/Arthur (could be romantic or platonic) and mentioned Gwen/Lancelot

Ever since Arthur learned about soulmates, he was fairly certain he didn’t have one.

See, most kids his age would always talk about feeling bumps on their knees when they were sitting still or hitting their elbows when not moving, but Arthur, he never got that. He just got his own constant aches and pains from being practically born in armour.

As soon as he was able to walk around on his own, he had a sword in his hand. The prince couldn’t remember a time before training was in his schedule.

As the young boy got older, he realised that perhaps, he just couldn’t feel a soulmate through his own permanent discomfort and that even if he does feel anything, he’d probably thought it was his own from training earlier.

Yet as he grew into an adult, any thoughts of soulmates were pushed far from his mind. Arthur had far more important matters to take care of.

Like currently, this idiot who thought it was smart to question what he did with his servants.

The boy, Merlin, appeared about his age, but stick thin. Arthur was confident he could take him. So, when the other did take a swing, the years of training kicked in as he pinned the right hook back behind Merlin’s back.

He leaned down to gloat when his own shoulder twinged. He’d have to check in with Gaius later. He must have overdone it on the training fields today.

“What, who do you think you are? The king?” Merlin jeered as he squirmed in Arthur’s hold, aggravating his shoulder more, and bringing him back to this current predicament.

Arthur leaned over slightly and countered, “No, I’m his son, Arthur.” He brought the poor idiot to his knees as guards came to collect him.

…

Arthur didn’t spare the peasant another thought, well he tried not to. He definitely didn’t lie awake that night thinking about how no one’s ever really stood up to him like that before other than maybe Morgana. He didn’t think about how he tried to help someone he never met before in a new town–because anyone who’s been in Camelot for even a few days would know who the prince was. And he absolutely wasn’t thinking about if he’d ever see the boy again.

Anyway, Arthur ran across Merlin the next day and decided to do the first thing he could to grab his attention. Call him out. “How's your knee-walking coming along?”

Of course, when the other didn’t rise to the bait, he had to push a little further. “Aw, don't run away!”

”From you?” Merlin asked, still not facing him.

And damn it, Arthur needed to see his face. He needed to figure out why this particular peasant won’t leave his thoughts alone. “Thank God. I thought you were deaf as well as dumb,” he tried prodding once more.

“Look, I've told you you're an ass,” Merlin finally turned to face the prince, “I just didn't realise you were a royal one.” That was the bite that’s been circling his head the last day! “Oh, what are you going to do? Get your daddy's men to protect you?”

Arthur laughed at the other’s fire. “I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur honestly wanted to see him try. He grabbed a pair of maces from a knight next to him. “Here you go.” He tossed Merlin one of them, to which the peasant dodged it, just barely missing him. That wasn’t necessarily his intention, but Merlin didn’t seem too shaken by it.

“Come on, then.” Arthur started swinging his mace, attempting to mildly intimidate the other. “I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth.”

“Wow,” Merlin dragged out, clearly unimpressed. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

The prince lowered his weapon, extremely caught off guard. “You can't address me like that,” he huffed.

“I'm sorry.” A part of Arthur was happy to hear that until Merlin continued. “H-How long have you been training to be a prat, My Lord?” Merlin smiled coyly up at him from the mocking bow.

Now, Arthur has to knock that smug look off his face.

Their fight lasted longer than both parties expected it to go. Arthur came out victorious, as intended. As Merlin was being hauled away by guards, again, Arthur stopped them. “Wait. Let him go.” The prince looked the other over. “He may be an idiot, but he's a brave one. There's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it.”

He left quickly after that, adrenaline leaving him, and soon it caused his injuries to stand out in his mind. For how the fight went, everything seemed accounted for, though he couldn’t remember ever hitting his head.

…

Again, Merlin never crossed Arthur’s mind again for a long time.

That was until he saved Arthur’s life and his father made him the prince’s manservant. Now, Merlin’s everywhere. So much so that Arthur has trouble keeping track of him in the beginning. It doesn’t help that Merlin barely listened to or followed orders.

Honestly, sometimes Merlin felt like a bad luck charm. Whenever Arthur talked him into helping with training, he would always walk away more sore than any other practice.

Of course, then the idiot had to go and sacrifice himself by drinking poison for him.

As soon as he saw his servant falling, he could feel his own breath pick up as he raced to Merlin’s side.

He barely heard Gaius telling him to bring Merlin to the physician’s chambers over the roaring in his ears and the stifling heat of the banquet hall.

Arthur practically ran Merlin to the room, setting him down as carefully as he could. 

“Is he going to be alright?” the prince asked as he shrugged off his own overcoat.

“He's burning up,” Gaius commented while checking Merlin. 

Of course he is, Arthur thought, this castle is sweltering right now.

Guinevere returned with water and a towel for Merlin. “You can cure him, can't you Gaius?” she asked.

Gaius kept a close eye on the boy. “I won't know until I can identify the poison. Pass me the goblet.” Gwen did so. Arthur rolled his sleeves up on his tunic. “Ah. There's something stuck on the inside.”

“What is it?” Arthur asked, trying to keep the mild annoyance out of his voice. Now was the time to focus on Merlin, not his own petty discomfort.

“It looks like a flower petal of some kind,” Gaius said, examining the item he’d pulled from the chalice.

“His brow's on fire,” Gwen reported from where she was trying to help Merlin.

“Keep him cool; it'll help control his fever,” Gaius said as he pulled a book out and started to search.

Arthur wanted to help his servant but didn’t know how. It didn’t help that he was feeling unwell himself. Did he accidentally drink a bit of it? No, he’d be unconscious next to Merlin if that were true. 

Gaius broke him from his spiralling thoughts. “Ah. The petal comes from the Mortaeus flower.” He pointed to a picture in a book that Arthur came over his shoulder to look at. “It says here that someone poisoned by the Mortaeus can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower. It can only be found in the caves deep beneath the Forest of Balor. The flower grows on the roots of the Mortaeus tree.”

The prince made a face at a picture next to the flower. “That's not particularly friendly.”

“A Cockatrice.” Gaius explained. “It guards the forest. Its venom is potent. A single drop would mean certain death. Few who have crossed the Mountains of Isgaard in search of the Mortaeus flower have made it back alive.”

Arthur started to head to the door, his mindset. “Sounds like fun.”

“Arthur, it's too dangerous,” Gaius called, stopping him momentarily.

“If I don't get the antidote, what happens to Merlin?” the prince asked, voice ice cold.

Gaius looked like he didn’t want to explain it, though he knew he must. “The Mortaeus induces a slow and painful death. He may hold out for four, maybe five days, but not for much longer. Eventually, he will die.”

Arthur nodded and left the room, resolute in his quest.

…

“What's the point of having people to taste for you if you're going to get yourself killed anyway?”

Arthur did his best to keep his strides even with his father and not let any of his discomfort show. Asking for this was already a long shot. If he showed any signs of being ill, he would be immediately shut down. “I won't fail, no matter what you think.”

“Arthur, you are my only son and heir.” Uther seemed finished with this conversation already. “I can't risk losing you for the sake of some serving boy.”

“Oh, because his life's worthless?” Arthur retorted, currently getting angrier than he should be if he wanted any hope of going.

“No,” Uther cut him off, turning around to fully face the prince, “because it's worth less than yours.”

“I can save him.” Arthur wanted to bargain, but knew it would be wasted breath. Breath that was coming harder for him each hour. “Let me take some men.”

“No,” Uther responded with an air of finality, except Arthur was slowly realising that he would push or even break many boundaries for Merlin.

“We'll find the antidote and bring it back.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Arthur nearly yelled. He tried to keep his breathing steady and not let the exhaustion from fighting this verbal battle show any more than it is. His temper is nearly out of his control.

Uther looked his son over before replying in a low, level voice, “Because one day I will be dead and Camelot will need a king. A king who won’t get so worked up over a lowly peasant. And I'm not going to let you jeopardise the future of this kingdom over some fool's errand.”

Arthur adjusted his sword belt, willing himself to get a grip on his emotions for Merlin’s sake. “It's not a fool's errand,” he said calmly. “Gaius says that if we can get the antidote…”

“Oh, Gaius says?” the king interrupted, seeming to finally hit the edge of his own temper, “That's exactly what makes it so.”

“Please, Father.” Arthur can practically feel his friend’s life slipping through his fingers. “He saved my life. I can't stand by and watch him die.”

Uther met his child’s gaze once more. “Then don't look.” 

…

In the end, after his own conscious eating at him, the stifling feelings of being in the castle, and a rousing pep talk from Morgana, Arthur was able to set off in the middle of the night on a solo quest to save Merlin. 

As he reached the forest just outside of the citadel, Arthur was already regretting not bringing at least one other person. His breathing was far too ragged and fast, especially for the slightly relaxed pace he was going. He wanted to push himself further, afraid that any time dawdling could mean Merlin’s death. But if Arthur ended up passed out in the forest for several days from exhaustion from overexerting his ailing body, he wouldn’t be of much use to anyone.

After a needed break, he started his long journey again at dawn. As he shook the remnants of sleep off of him, he noticed a stinging, burning itch inside his left arm. Confused, the prince moved his clothing around before getting a good look at the strange, discoloured patch of skin with a raw red ring around it. 

His first thought was that something must have gotten under his gambeson when he was asleep. Thankfully, he had chosen to rest near a riverbed. He remembered a little of what Gaius had told him to do in this situation, so he tried to rinse off anything that might still be on top of the skin. The cool water should help soothe it a bit, yet when he ran the arm under water, nothing happened. The prince obviously could feel the water running as smooth as silk over his skin, but it somehow never touched the rash, for better or worse. 

When nothing seemed to happen, Arthur removed his arm and dried it off as best he could, surprisingly, the cloth didn’t bother it much either. He knew that he should figure out what exactly was going wrong with him, but Arthur knew he wouldn’t find answers in the forest. Since it wasn’t causing any current trouble, he decided it was best to push it aside for now and focus on the task at hand. With that thought, the prince finished gathering what little belongings he had on him, got on his horse, and continued onward.

However, as he made his way through the land, his mind kept drifting to his arm. What exactly could have caused it? It was likely magic from the unordinary behaviour. It didn’t appear to be killing him, at the very least not quickly. As he began walking, trying to remember the way he was shown, a stray thought crossed his mind: What if it’s your soulmate? Arthur stopped momentarily, caught completely off guard. He hasn’t given any real, deep thought to soulmates in likely a decade. He shook his head, clearing it. He had long since accepted that he didn’t have a soulmate, not even a platonic one. The thought that one would show itself now, so late in Arthur’s life was almost laughably ridiculous.

Quiet sobbing broke the prince from his musings.

…

The task of picking a flower from a cave turned into a challenge harder than just finding the damn place. The random vengeful witch and quickly worsening health was not helping. 

But, after heaving and pulling himself through the spider-filled cave, Arthur completed his task. Barely staying awake atop his horse, he rode as quickly for Camelot as he could, only to get immediately hauled off to the dungeons by reluctant knights.

“You disobeyed me,” his father bellowed.

“Of course I did,” Arthur responded, leaning against the wall of his cell. He couldn’t hide the fatigue anymore. “A man's life was at stake. Do not let Merlin die because of something I did.” Despite barely staying on his feet, he kept his voice fairly level.

Uther eyed his son up and down, carefully examining him, what for, Arthur couldn’t figure out. “Why do you care so much? The boy is just a servant, and you’re clearly much worse off for it.” He motioned towards a patch of Athur’s exposed chest where the rash had climbed to. Suddenly self-conscious, he adjusted his shirt slightly and pushed more of the sweat out of his eyes.

The prince pushed himself from the wall, staggering slightly, though doing his best to put himself at his father’s eye level. “He knew the danger he was putting himself in, and he knew what would happen if he drank from that goblet, but he did it anyway. He saved my life.” Arthur drew a shaky breath. His breathing seemed to have been progressively getting slower since around the time he’d been placed in his cell. “There's more. There was a woman at the mountain. She knew I was there for the flower. I don't think it was Bayard who tried to poison me.”

A strange look crossed Uther’s face, but Arthur was too far gone to try and decipher it. “Of course it was.”

A chill ran down Arthur’s spine and his knees tried to shake. He knew this conversation needed to end soon for his own sake. Slowly pulling out the Morteus, he said, “Gaius knows what to do with it.” Uther moved across the room and grabbed the flower. Arthur could have wept with relief. Merlin would be safe. Another chill tried to chase away his fever causing him to shudder as he continued, “Put me in the stocks for a week, a month even, I don't care. Just make sure it gets to him. I'm begging you.” He stared his father down, hoping the sincerity and attempt at platitude would work.

Uther began to walk away and Arthur truly thought it had worked before his father crushed the flower in his hand.

“No!” Arthur yelled, reaching for the flower, only managing to tangle his weakened legs together and crumple to the ground.

The king looked down at his son as he said, “You have to learn there's a right and a wrong way of doing things. I'll see you're let out in a week. Then you can find yourself another servant.”

Arthur tried to pull himself up and towards his retreating hope as Uther left the cell and dropped the flower remains just outside of it. The guards shut and lock the door behind the king. Arthur crawled his way over to the bars, reaching for the flower with the little energy he had left. With the tips of his fingers, he grabbed it and brought the treasure inside with him. Unsure how to proceed, he cradled Merlin’s hope close to his chest as he passed out against the bars of his cell.

…

Arthur woke to the metal he was leaning on getting pulled out from under him. He didn’t even have the strength to catch himself. He just let himself fall to the cold, hard ground. Someone hovered over him expectantly, so Arthur reluctantly opened his eyes to find Guinevere staring nervously down at him. He tried to think of something, but his brain was not firing very fast.

Quickly enough though, he motioned near him with a languid wave of his hand saying, “Set it down over there.”

Gwen rushed to comply as Arthur slowly crawled to follow. As the plate was set down, Gwen looked over at Arthur expectantly.

“Thank you,” the prince said, pointedly before looking down at the plate. His stomach rolled at the mere thought of food. He carefully picked at a few of the pieces, sliding the Morteus within.

“Wait a minute,” he called to a retreating Guinevere. He shifted to the side giving her easy access to the plate and antidote while still trying to appear nonplussed.

“I couldn't possibly eat this, it's disgusting,” he attempted to scoff, but it ended up turning into a coughing fit at the end. Guinevere moved to help him, yet he waved her own. After a minute, he continued, “The state it's in, I'm not sure it's fit for anyone.”

A sparkle lit up in Gwen’s eyes right before she bowed her head, grabbing the plate once more. She quickly made her way out of the cell. Arthur ran one hand over his face, pushing the sweat-soaked hair out of the way while keeping his other hand close to his chest, keeping up appearances and all, then let his head fall back against the wall. Merlin would be safe. With one last shuddering breath, he happily slipped unconscious.

…

Arthur awoke the next day, still in his cold, dank cell, though, somehow, miraculously better. All of his ailments just vanished from the fever to rash to fatigue. The only thing left was hunger from refusing his food yesterday. Of course, his father still sent Gaius to check him over, not knowing about Arthur’s improved condition and likely wouldn’t believe it. Arthur was remorseful to take the physician away from Merlin so soon; however, he was grateful for anyone able to give him any insight into how his manservant might be doing. 

Gaius began his examination, seemingly unsure of what he was looking for.

“How’s he doing?” Arthur started

A small smile tugged at Gaius’s lips as he continued working on the prince. “He’s much better thanks to you, sire. Take a deep breath for me, now.”

Arthur complied, happy that he actually could now. “And everything seems alright? Nothing lingering?”

The physician stepped away from him. “I believe I should be asking you that, sire. You appear to be in perfect health while the king talked as though you were on death’s door.”

Arthur shrugged. “I can’t explain it, Gaius. I was feverish, had chills, rashes everywhere, and horrible fatigue. Then I woke this morning, and it was gone. First the light and now this,” he muttered the last bit to himself.

“What was that, your highness?” 

Arthur looked over at Gaius. “Just, when I was struggling in the cave, someone knew I was in trouble and sent a light to guide the way. Now, I’m in perfect health after nearly dying. It seems like someone is watching over me, keeping me from harm.”

Gaius turned away from the prince, a troubled expression crossing over his face.

Arthur hastily jumped to add, “Not that I would condone any magic in Camelot, especially against the prince.”

“Of course not, sire. I would never suggest such a thing.” Gaius responded while rummaging in his medicine bag. After a moment, he pulled out a blue vial that looked just like one of Morgana’s sleeping draughts. “Now, take this right before bed just to make sure everything is out of your system.”

Arthur took the bottle and nodded in thanks as the physician left.

He took the drink as instructed and swiftly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As Uther praised Gaius for his miracle cure while backhandedly telling Arthur off for doing something so stupid and reckless, the prince felt a phantom pain hit his shin and run down his leg.

…

Arthur was pointedly not thinking about soulmates. The problem was, they just kept coming up –like some other smart-mouthed nuisance in his life. This one, however, he couldn’t just send to muck out his stables when he’s annoyed with it, no matter how much he wished to.

About a week or so after he was released for saving Merlin, Guinevere found her soulmate. Arthur would admit that he felt a bit bad for the trouble he must have put the poor girl through when Lancelot first came to Camelot. He wished there was a way that he could have kept the pair together. He accidentally overheard Morgana telling Gwen that she could leave and be with the almost-knight if that’s what she wanted, but Guinevere put her foot down, saying that Camelot was her home and she wouldn’t leave it. That didn’t stop her from crying as she watched Lancelot leave, staring out over the horizon long after he was gone.

Arthur found himself rubbing his wrist as he watched her before shaking his head and walking away.

The prince has noticed some… things of his own.

Randomly he’ll wake up with bruises forming rings around his wrists and a light red circle around his neck. Usually, a backache accompanies it as well. He can never figure out the source. He just wears higher collars and longer sleeves, while working through the pain.

That quiet voice in the back of his mind always has an answer though Arthur refused to entertain it.

There are also the burn marks. They weren’t on his fingertips or even his hands, but lightly across his forearms and scattered around his lower legs. He would know if he himself had gotten them, and they started to tell a worrying story.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on that because soon after he met Sophia.

Sophia drowned out that quiet voice.

She drowned out a lot of voices.

She drowned Ar… 

…

“Arthur?”

The prince groaned from where he was lying in bed. He was in extraordinary pain. He had a headache cleaving his head in half, making the room feel like it was swirling, as well as horrid, shooting pains down his spine. “What happened?” he moaned. He half opened his eyes before closing them with another groan as he was greeted by blinding light. “Where am I?”

“Can you remember anything?” A voice that sounds like Merlin murmurs next to him.

Arthur slowly tried to sit up, grumbling and grabbing his face, “Oh! Oh, my head! There was a girl. Sophia, she...I asked my father something about her, I asked him…” He bolted up in bed, immediately rejecting the action, sighing and dropping his aching head in his palms. “What was I thinking?” He would yell if it wouldn’t send his head ringing.

“Well, we did wonder,” Merlin continued. “Especially when you eloped with her last night.”

Arthur peered at the offending manservant between his fingers. “I did what?” he growled.

“Merlin had to bring you back to Camelot,” Gaius stated.

“I don't recall any of this.” Arthur massaged his head, afraid this was going to somehow make the migraine worse.

“Must've been some blow,” Gaius continued.

“What blow?” Other than to my ego, he chose to leave unsaid. Arthur finally lifted his head fully from his hands, looking at the pair.

“Well…er…when I caught up with you, I couldn't persuade you to return, you were beyond reason. So I had to make you.” Merlin stated, completely serious.

The prince groaned once again, flopping back on his bed. A mistake since it sent his head swimming again. He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes, hoping it would help. It did not. “What did you use, my chainmail?”

“What?” Merlin questioned, sounding innocent, except Arthur didn’t believe it.

“My head is tearing itself in two, I can barely think with how the room is swaying, and my back is shooting fire through my spine. I have no idea someone like Merlin could hit me hard enough to do this much damage.”

“Uh… I only used a lump of wood, I swear.”

Arthur moved his hands away from his eyes to see Gaius staring Merlin down. Maybe Arthur wasn’t too far from the truth after all. He pointed to Merlin. “No one…can know about this–” the prince switched to Gaius “–any of it. Is that understood?” He tried to appear intimidating, but from the smirk trying to worm its way onto Merlin’s face, he wasn’t succeeding. He sighed into his bedding.

…

Soulmates actually left Arthur’s mind for a while between helping druid boys escape execution and unkillable coming to try and challenge him. 

Strangely enough, they came back while he was far away from the throne, in Ealdor. 

He noticed as he trained the men that afterward, they each had someone to go to, someone who knew exactly what to do, where exactly it hurt before it was ever spoken aloud.

Arthur rubbed his sore shoulder from showing sword-swinging techniques all day and wondered if he would ever find anything like that.

The next day, he guided the men in sword basics once more when he felt a scrap against his cheek. Arthur immediately looked up and around, for what, he wasn’t sure. No one was around to have hit him. Was he looking for the threat?

He brushed it off for the rest of the day until that night.

The group from Camelot was gathered around Hunith’s table, eating what she could provide for dinner, when something caught Arthur’s eye. Merlin turned his head to talk to one of the ladies and the candlelight shined against a new cut.

“Merlin, when’d you get that on your jaw?” the prince asked.

Merlin covered it with his hand and chuckled. “Oh, that? I got nicked by one of the men during training today. Nothing I won’t live through.” He smiled brightly at Arthur before getting back into his food. Something tightened in Arthur’s chest that he couldn’t explain.

That quiet voice in the back of Arthur’s head had a lot to say about that.

Unconsciously, Arthur started to pay more attention to Merlin in the days leading up to the battle. He tried to tell himself that it was because they were forced into temporary close quarters, but there is only so far you can fool yourself.

Merlin was very good at changing out of sight. By the time Arthur was awake, Merlin was dressed and the servant was always the first into sleep clothes.

Arthur caught flashes of skin here and there. He catalogued them as quickly as he could, memorising them and only trying to see if they were replicated on his own body late into the night.

When the actual battle came around, the prince was acutely aware of every pain he was feeling, his own and his other half’s.

Arthur figured by the time they had successfully driven out Kanen and his men, he would have a better understanding of everything and maybe even try to talk to Merlin.

Then, Will got hurt.

…

Arthur knew that Merlin would need some space and time. Arthur figured he could use that as well to gather more data.

He tried to take Merlin hunting to clear their heads.

That didn’t end well.

Except, the more time it took surprisingly the more Arthur got excited. 

As he got more and more information of little things connecting him and Merlin, the giddier he was. There really was someone out there for Arthur. And it was his best friend–even if he would never tell the other that to his face.

Arthur started thinking of ways to tell Merlin. Maybe just slip it into a random conversation one day. Maybe bring the other into his room for a private meal and talk about the great work Merlin’s done for him the past year. Maybe just drop his own hints until Merlin figured it out, though that may take a while.

He had accepted it enough now, that it wouldn’t distract him too much from his daily work. Well, ordinary things wouldn’t, at least. Currently, Arthur was training with the knights while his father and Morgana were off on a visit to the lady’s father’s grave.

He was in the middle of a sparring match with Leon when it hit him. What hit him, he wasn’t sure, just one moment, he was holding his own just fine against his friend. The next, he was flat on his back, groaning, his ears were ringing, his muscles were pulled taut, and a buzzing sensation was running through his body. 

When he could finally loosen his muscles enough to open his eyes and look around, he realised he was in the physician’s quarters. He must have been out for at least a little while to get here.

Arthur heard the door bang open. He attempted to get a glimpse of the person but still couldn’t move very well.

Thankfully, Gaius saw the attempt and called, “Sire? Are you awake?”

Garbled sounds and moans came from the patient cot. The prince’s mouth hadn’t fully regained feeling or function.

The physician came over and helped him sit up slightly. Arthur attempted to lightly move the muscles he could feel. When he could finally speak mostly clearly again, Arthur asked, “Where’s Merlin?”

Gaius looked up, confused and concerned from where he was examining the other. “He had to run an errand for me, sire. He should be back shortly. Can I pass along a message?”

“No,” Arthur groaned out as he continued to stretch out around Gaius’s probing. 

Now, the prince knew that he wasn’t always the sharpest sword in the rack; however, he could see the picture these pieces were making. And for once, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Of course, Arthur still held that excitement of possibly having Merlin as his other half very near and dear to his heart. The issue was then, why the hell is this happening to Merlin?

As Gaius worked on Arthur’s body, he let his mind drift. He thought about the burn marks marring his body, about how badly he hurt after–what he was told–was a simple blow to the head after Sophia, and now about this lightning strike in the middle of a clear day. Who would be doing this to Merlin? Why Merlin of all people? Why has it only gotten this bad after Merlin came to Camelot?

Arthur doesn’t know how to even get close to any of these answers. Merlin wouldn’t give him a straight answer if the prince asked. Clearly, Gaius won’t say anything since he’s hiding whatever Merlin’s doing right now.

Eventually, Gaius deemed Arthur well enough to go about his day, but it was useless. He was completely unfocused for the rest of the day, barely acknowledging anyone who tried to interact with him. He didn’t even see Merlin that night. As he went to sleep, he wondered if that might be a good thing. 

At this point, Arthur almost wished he was wrong just so he could stop hearing Merlin’s screams every time he traced over one of his scars.

…

Arthur still hadn’t found it within himself to tell Merlin anything before they were sent to kill the Questing Beast.

As the beast swept its claw against Arthur, he heard Merlin scream in pain right before he hit the wall and lost consciousness. 

I would do anything to keep Merlin from feeling this pain, was his last thought before darkness took him.

The prince woke to a dull ache covering his body–focused around his left pectoral, utter exhaustion, and his father hovering over him.

He made a promise to himself right then that he’d have a real conversation with Merlin about everything the moment he had the chance.

Merlin never stopped by to see him for two days.

That night, Arthur was pouring himself a drink when his servant finally arrived. “Ah, Merlin,” the prince greeted the other. He was trying for calm and collected while his head was firing about twelve different alarms.

“How are you?” Merlin asked, fidgeting a bit.

Arthur looked him over. Something was up, he would just have to slowly figure it out. It wouldn’t do to have this conversation while Merlin was so tightly wound up. “Good.”

“I'm pleased.”

Arthur took his cup and sat down. “Yes. I owe it all to Gaius.” And you, he wanted to add. He knew there was no way Merlin just sat by while Gaius did everything.

A pause hung in the air and Arthur wondered if now was the chance to get anything out of Merlin when the servant beat him to it. “I need to talk to you.”

Hesitant about where this conversation was going to go, Arthur deflected with his usual tendencies. “You still haven't got it yet, have you? I decide when we need to talk.”

“Not today,” Merlin replied with a dark air of finality.

The prince looked the other over once more. Just a little more goading and something good would snap. “I sometimes wonder if you know who I am,” he teased.

“Oh, I know who you are,” Merlin chimed back, just as quickly.

“Good.”

Merlin finally left the door he’d been sulking in front of while taking the bait. “You're a prat. And a royal one.” A smile tugged at his lips, and oh how Arthur had missed that.

He chuckled lightly, trying to hide his own growing grin. “Are you ever going to change, Merlin?”

“No, you'd get bored.” Arthur winced, his shoulder flaring up and noticed his servant twitch at his side. He rubbed it, trying to soothe it for both of them. “But promise me this, if you get another servant, don't get a bootlicker.”

Arthur looked up, surprised at Merlin. “If this is you trying to leave your job…”

“No,” Merlin cut him off. “I'm happy to be your servant. Till the day I die.”

Then why does this feel like a goodbye, he wanted to say, instead, “Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times…” Arthur shook his head, fondly.

“Well, I know you,” Merlin jumped to say. Arthur turned his head up, eagerly awaiting the manservant’s next words. “And you're a great warrior. One day, you'll be a great king.”

Arthur felt something sharp burrow between his ribs, like a small dagger. “That's very kind of you,” he replied, hoping now would be his opening to change the subject. His gut was telling him it was now or never.

“But you must learn to listen as well as you fight,” Merlin continued.

The dagger twisted inside. “Any other pointers?” he asked.

“No. That's it.” Both men seemed to take a breath. Arthur was about to start the conversation back up again when Merlin finished, “Just...don't be a prat.” With that, Merlin turned on his heels and left. Arthur tried to call after him, but it was no use. Arthur felt the dagger get pulled out, leaving him feeling empty.

It was getting late, the next day. Arthur had asked just about everyone he’d seen to send Merlin his way, yet no one had appeared to have seen him. The prince was still not allowed to move around much, so he was stuck in his room with nothing except his thoughts and horrible paperwork.

He was sitting at his desk, trying to read the words for the eighth time when he felt the first set of flames. It was hard to tell what exactly it was. There was just a light burn, like standing too close to an open fire with bare skin. It set Arthur’s teeth on edge and made his whole body tense. What the hell is he doing now? he thought.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, a whole minute at most, before the fireball hit. This pain was unimaginable heat and sent all of his nerves into overdrive for a second before it was too much and they all switched off. That was about when he passed out.

A servant found him sometime later, passed out at his desk. Arthur woke with a start, looking around, the only thing on his mind was find Merlin. “Where’s Merlin?” he immediately asked the other. 

The servant jumped slightly and Arthur realised that in his haste, he growled at the poor person. “Uh… I don’t know, sire. As far as I’m aware, no one has seen him at all today.”

Arthur nodded, bringing awareness to his chest. There was a numb sort of pain settling there, which he knew from Gaius’s lectures couldn’t mean anything good. “Just, make sure everyone knows that he is to come straight here once you find him.”

The servant bowed. “Yes, your highness.” And scurried out of the room.

Arthur watched them go and noticed a tray on his table that wasn’t there before. Ah. The servant must have been bringing him dinner and thought he had fallen asleep at his desk. Well, he thought, better that than the truth. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He and Merlin were going to have words and the slippery servant wasn’t getting out of it this time.

…

Arthur was nodding off in his chair when he heard his chamber door open.

Merlin’s head poked in, looking wide-eyed and worried like something was going to attack him. Arthur cleared his throat causing the other to jump.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Nice of you to finally show up.”

Merlin had the decency to look a bit sheepish. “Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. What did you need me for, Sire?” 

Arthur stood and walked around the servant, examining him up and down. The prince had seen a limp when Merlin walked in and could easily see the exhaustion in his servant’s posture. Though the second Arthur started staring, Merlin shrunk away and adjusted himself to try and hide the injuries better. When Arthur was done was his observations, he stared Merlin in the eye and ordered, “Take off your shirt.”

Merlin reeled back, clearly surprised and tried to hide by responding with a smirk, “Wow, so forward my lord.”

The insinuation sent a flush to Arthur’s cheeks, yet he wouldn’t be deterred. “Take it off, or I’ll take it off for you.”

That really confused the manservant. He took a few steps away from the prince. “Alright, I was joking before, but I’m not taking it off.”

Now, was Arthur’s next move childish, absolutely, but he was tired of dancing around the issue, tired of constantly fearing for Merlin while unable to know what was causing harm. 

So, Arthur tackled Merlin. Yet, Merlin wouldn’t go down without a fight. The pair ended up rolling on the floor, fighting each other like children, until Arthur finally got a good enough fist full of the bottom of Merlin’s shirt and pulled it up as far as he could, and pinned the servant down by straddling his hips. “Arthur!” Merlin yelled, muffled by the fabric shoved over his face.

Except, Arthur wasn’t listening. He was staring down at the worst burn mark he’s ever seen. Merlin’s chest was completely charred in the centre with red, blistered skin surrounding it. Arthur’s hand hovered over the blackened skin, unable to look away as tears filled his eyes. His worst fears and greatest fantasies were right in front of him, covered in dirt, scars, and burns, trying to hide his face in his shirt. 

“Merlin, I–” Arthur had a list of things he wanted to say–had planned to say–in this moment, yet he couldn’t say a word.

Merlin was the one to speak first. He moved the shirt down enough to whisper, unable to look the royal in the eye, “Arthur, how did you know about this?”

Arthur huffed a small laugh. “I would think after all this time in Camelot, you would’ve figured out the prince is your soulmate.”

Merlin jumped slightly underneath him, the floor apparently becoming very interesting. “So, you know?”

“Merlin,” Arthur stared at the other, trying to will their eyes to meet. Slowly, Merlin did. “I’ve known for a while now. I just want to know why?”

Merlin looked away once more and Arthur wanted to just force the servant to face him. “There are problems,” Merlins started slowly, “sometimes, that aren’t able to be solved with a sword and shield.”

Arthur didn’t know where Merlin was going with this, patiently waiting for him to continue. 

“Sometimes,”–it almost felt like pulling teeth at this point– “special forces need to be involved.”

The prince gazed down, expectantly, as Merlin squirmed under the scrutiny. “So, you’re saying that you are these… special forces?”

Merlin sighed and muttered something under his breath before all the candles in the room momentarily jumped higher. Arthur jumped as well, whipping around to find the danger when Merlin gently grabbed his face and forced their eyes to meet. 

Oh. Arthur saw the gold trickle out of those big, blue, tearful eyes. “I–I have magic, Arthur.” Merlin fought to keep his voice steady as more tears rushed to those beautiful eyes. “I only use it for you, I swear. I–I never hurt people, unless they try to hurt you first, a–and I’m really careful about it, I promise. Just, please, don’t kill me, not for my sake, but yours. Just–Just say the word and I’ll leave. Well, I won’t leave, but you won’t see me again, I truly sw–” Merlin’s ramblings were cut off as Arthur threw himself down onto the smaller man. 

Merlin broke off into hiccupping sobs as he clung to Arthur’s back for dear life. 

Arthur held the other close, tight, and protectively. He only heard about half of what Merlin said and it would take a while for him to fully process everything, but he knew what he felt like doing and what Merlin needed. He carefully threaded his fingers through the other’s dark hair, massaging softly as Merlin seemed to be relaxing slightly. 

“It’s okay Merlin,” Arthur murmured into the sorcerer’s shoulder. “We both know I wouldn’t last a day without you, soulmate or not.” That startled a laugh out of Merlin and Arthur smiled softly.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Merlin whispered.

“Of course,” Arthur responded, knowing he would do anything to protect the shaking man in his arms.

[currentlyfckingurmom]

Her Song part 20

FIVE YEARS AGO

I walk through the halls of my childhood home with my head held down. I know that both of my parents are in the living room. I'm dreading this conversation, but I know I don't have a choice. This isn't just about me anymore.

I walk into the living room and they barely pay me any attention as I stand anxiously in front of the couch upon which they sit.

"Mom? Dad? We need to talk," I finally say, swallowing thickly as they gaze at me with anxious curiosity.

"About what?" my mom asks.

"A few weeks ago, s-something happened and I didn't know how to tell you, but Mark Lucas...he, um, he did...things to me. I've been feeling sick lately so I took a test and...I'm pregnant."

It's silent for a minute. I can see the anger swelling on my parents' faces. For just a flicker of a moment, I stupidly believe they're angry at Mark for what he's done to me.

"You had sex with Mark Lucas? God, Y/N, I thought we raised you better than this," my moms spits with disgust. "You're too young for this. And now you're knocked up. I'm calling the doctor in the morning and we're going to get rid of this mistake of yours as soon as possible."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion as tears well in my eyes. "What? Mom, I didn't have sex with him-"

"Oh really? Because I'm pretty sure that's how a girl gets pregnant. By whoring herself out to the star football player," my mom yells. The vein is popping out of her neck. My dad remains silent.

"No, you aren't listening to me," I sob. "I didn't have sex with him. He- he made me do it, Mom. Dad," I pleaded. "You have to believe me, please."

They stare at me in silence. My mother's face has been taken over by a foreign expression of disgust. My father clenches his jaw. I can't tell what he's thinking.

"Quit lying, Y/N. If you're old enough to have sex, then you're old enough to own up to your mistakes instead of blaming them on someone else. I mean, rape? Did you honestly think that you could get away with accusing the town's golden boy of rape? First I find out you're a slut and now I find out that you're just a fucking idiot," my mother mutters.

"Mom," my voice cracks, shaking my head in shock at her words. "I promise I didn't have sex with him. He made me. I don't even- I don't even like guys that way. I like girls. Mom, Dad, please, you have to believe me," I beg, my chest shaking with sobs.

My father scoffs. It's the first time he's really reacted, and my eyes are instantly glued to him to see what happens. "So first you're sleeping with jocks like a whore, then you're pregnant, and now you're a dyke? What the fuck are you trying to do, Y/N? You're going to tear this family apart," my father snaps.

"Pack your bags and get out," my mother instructs coldly.

"What?" I breathe.

"Pack your bags and get out. You're no longer welcome under my roof. I won't have you ruining my reputation in this town. If you figure out how to stop lying and repent for your sins, maybe we'll consider letting you come back," she finishes

I stand there, frozen in place. This can't be happening right now. I look to my dad for help, but his eyes look just as hateful. I spin on my heels and run up to my room to pack my bags.

I'm out of the house within twenty minutes. I get in my cheap 1982 Chevy and drive to the edge of town. Sitting on the tailgate, I watch as the sun slowly disappears behind the trees.

"I guess it's just you and me now, huh?" I whisper to the little life growing inside my belly. "But that's okay. We don't need those assholes. I'll take care of you, you little Satanist. I promise. I'll keep you safe."

PRESENT DAY

"Get the fuck out. I don't want you around my kid."

"What? Y/N, don't be ridiculous. I'm your father," he tries to convince me.

"Not anymore. I'm done. I already have all the family I need."

"My flight doesn't leave until Saturday," he scoffs.

"So stay at a hotel. It's gotta be easier than trying to find an apartment at 16," I snap. "Pack up and get out. You have fifteen minutes."

I head to Syd's room and close the door behind me, leaning against it and taking a deep breath.

"You didn't want me to know about my dad, did you?" Syd asks quietly. I sigh and sit on the floor next to her.

"I...It's complicated, honey. But no, I didn't plan on telling you about him. He wasn't a good person."

"Did you love him?"

"No. I didn't."

"Well, that's okay. We don't need him," she states. "As long as we have each other, we'll be okay."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," I sniffle quietly. "I'll always take care of you, you little Satanist. I'll keep you safe."

"I'll keep you safe too, Momma. Is Grandpa going to leave?"

"Yeah, baby, he is. Are you upset?"

She hesitates, thinking it over. "No. He's fun, but he makes you sad, and I don't like when you're sad."

I let out a watery laugh, silent tears now flowing freely down my face. Syd notices and frowns, crawling into my lap. She wipes the tears off my cheeks and kisses my forehead, the same way I've always done it for her.

"Don't cry, Momma. We'll be okay."

"I love you, Sydney. You know that, right?"

"I know. I love you too, Momma."

[bishiglomper]

I'm stressed out. niece wants everyone to go look at a house tomorrow.

There is so many steps in the way of even CONSIDERING getting a house and they wanna go view one? Jesus christ these people are gonna give me a stroke. It seriously TEARS ME UP inside thinking were gonna be suddenly out with nothing more than what we can physically grab in like, 1 day. We have MAYBE half a storage unit. The other half is haphazardly thrown shit.

I wouldn't call us hoarders, but we'd definitely be leaving a SHIIIIIIIT TON of shit I wouldn't be able to do anything about.

I have boxes of video games and shit I've been missing for like 12 years. Missing as in I know it's there but buried beneath/beyond too much other shit. I need these other people to move ther shit before I can get to OUR old stuff.

If we do not get at least

AT. LEAST. 2 MONTHS. OF RIGOUROUS CLEANING AND PACKING. I will have a nervous fucking breakdown.

I'm mostly worried about the basement stuff. We have a huge basement. It's like a small apartment. A small bedroom, restroom with shower and living room. And laundry room.

The whole floor is PACKED with bullshit. I'm talking TO THE CEILING. barely a walking path.

I meticulously packed our stuff (special things like my teapot collection, video games, a few bins of time capsule shit, our [fun] camping shit...) so many decorations and collections.

All that got packed and set aside before my sisters family moved in. It was supposed to be for 4 months. It's been uhhhh, 8 years? It's been buried so deep. I would not be able to get to it without first clearing out the basement at least halfway, just to have maneuvering room.

Also no one has any freaking money. We're paycheck to paycheck. Mom was hiding from the IRS. She's speaking to the IRS now but she's on a payment plan.

No one is going to give any of us a loan. 🙄 She's the only one with money and her credit is shit because she hid for God knows how many years

No one takes pets.

We have too much shit.

I wouldn't mind paring down but that would still TAKE TIME.

A LOT OF TIME.

A LOT OF CONSTANT MANUAL LABOR

WHICH NONE OF US CAN DO

Fuuuuuuck

You know, if these people would just start packing I wouldn't worry half as much. If things were just IN MOTION.

I told my counselor this and she told me to just pack up my shit

First of all, some of that shit down there IS my fucking shit. That I can't touch without help.

But yeah I'm just supposed to pack up my room and just start living out of a suitcase (packing and going without the REST of my stuff) and twiddle my thumbs until we get officially evicted.

I'm autistic. can you even imagine how much I'm struggling with this. I am too OCFUCKINGD for that shit. Seriously, it gives me chest pain thinking about it.

Thats seriously asking me to suffer more to... what?

I'm sure it's meant to relieve some pressure on my mind but honestly

What is the purpose

How does that help anyone

It does not relieve any pressure. It just changes the shape.

Also the thought that if we DO need to leave it, it's being straight up thrown in the dump. Regardless of what it is or what it's worth. Seriously, it pains me.

But yeah, no, let's make an appointment t see a house just for funsies.

Stupid idiots wtf do they think is gonna happen

[isca-rambles]

4x12 Lucy rubbing her tattoo when talking about Tim and Ashley my poor baby doesn't even know why she feels so uncomfortable when it comes to those two. God, you know what I want now? A nice fic of Tim asking Lucy to get him more comfortable with being in the ocean, maybe a future fic when they're married or she's early months pregnant, because he wants to be able to take his kid swimming. Or just because he wants to step out of his comfort zone for Lucy because she loves the ocean. My dad is not a strong swimmer and had a lot of fear about being in water, ocean or not, but he always pushed himself to be in the water with me and my sister when we were kids. I can see Tim doing that. Plus it'd make for some great sweet and soft Chenford with her helping him keep calm in the shallow water, dipping their feet in the tide, Lucy meditating next to him and him just watching her and realising the ocean isn't quite so awful. Nyla's pregnancy making her pathologically happy is fucking adorable. From what little I've seen of the BTS stuff, it's basically just Mekia being Mekia. Especially when you have perpetual sunshine Lucy next to her amplifying it. Air conditioned body armour, yes! Give that man whatever he wants. As someone who overheats at the drop of a button (seriously, I want to wear all the cute jumpers but I can barely cope in one layer in Winter, it's awful and I hate it), I fully support this man's need for 24/7 AC.

Ugh, Chris. Look, you're not a bad guy (but still I 100% think he acts sus enough to have been an acolyte or fanatic. I'm glad he wasn't, for Lucy's sake, but he does way too many weird things for it to not have been a possible storyline). You're just not right for Lucy. I know Chris and Ashley are important in this step so Lucy and Tim can realise what and who they want in a relationship, since Emmett and Rachel were their first steps into healthy relationships after their own individual traumas, but I just really preferred Emmett and Rachel as characters. Also Tim agreeing to go on a date with his girlfriend just to prove Lucy wrong. Oh boy.

And also Tim wanting to bring Lucy along to save him from a double date with a random couple. Bless these two oblivious idiots. Also c'mon Tim, you just set Lucy up with your competition down the line. God though, can you imagine if Chris had turned out to be an acolyte or fanatic? And Tim's now got that extra guilt on his shoulders?

Lucy trying so hard to actually talk to their dates and Tim just can't help himself. Though I don't blame him about the food/pop-up, I am not an adventurous eater whatsoever. Look at how he smiles when he looks at Lucy and talks about her. Jesus, maybe Chris and Ashley are right for Lucy and Tim because they're just as fucking oblivious as them. Poor Lucy really seems predisposed towards nightmares. It's played for laughs or just off-hand remarks, but that's numerous mentions of nightmares throughout the show. Overactive minds, I guess. Agh but I love when Lucy and Tim work together. Romantic stuff aside, they just work so well together. Their shorthands and silent conversations. They're sometimes so in sync and it's really lovely. Also Tim maneuvering Lucy by her duty belt so she can focus on keeping sight yes thank you. Sir, ma'am, you do not need to be standing that close to each other and good lord. Tim letting Lucy work through their options without taking over, not testing her but just guiding her through what to do and probably guiding himself as well. Oh Chris and Ashley. C'mon. Chris is too much for Lucy and what she wants, but Ashley just seems to constantly want to change Tim. These relationships really weren't built to last. And yes I know about S6 but that doesn't count because they will get back together eventually and be stronger for it.

Nolan's the most positive person you've ever met, Nyla? Really? Though fair, Lucy doesn't count because she's not a person she's goodness incarnate. As you were.

4x13 I've said it once I've said it a million times, this station is far too easy to get into. Nolan being Nolan aside, they just have civillians waltzing around every corner and peeking into briefings. C'mon y'all.

Again, more Nolan and Lucy frienship in S7 please. Actual friendship. Like Nolan actually caring about Lucy and the shit she's going through and them working together. She can help him become a better TO because honestly he needs a lot of help with that. Aww, poor Tim waiting for his wifey.

Okay I also need teen rebel Lucy fics please.

Lucy my girl \o/ Nolan you listen to her.

The guy opening the door then bolting. My man, you have a peephole right there. Should've used it.

Can we keep Ken? Can we not just hire him at the station? He could probably solve all the crimes and sort out all the misunderstandings and personal problems in half an episode. Tim's really coming into his own as a sergeant. I'm excited to see more of this again in S7 now he's back from metro. I loved TO Tim and metro Tim was hot af, but patrol supervisor Tim is just really where he shines.

Sorry, tight white t-shirt Tim looks like the least delivery guy ever.

No Ken, don't leave us. I really really love Aaron as a character. Please come back in S7. Please. Tim inviting everyone out for drinks but looking specifically at Lucy the entire time. I see you and your secret wife, good sir.

[elpida]

"Attempting to make sure I've nothing on my mind so I can sleep after my job tonight." she corrected and said it bluntly how it was. "I'd hate to think you got an infection and lost an arm." she mumbled, the sarcasm brewing in her. "Right, assignments... that you get paid what, salary for? Funny how they say what you do is legal, but not what I do." she shrugged her shoulders. She'd always found the fine line between what the justice system deemed as right and wrong, interesting to say the least.

"I think a proper clean, making sure no stitches are needed and a proper bandage, done by someone else, would probably do the world of good." she ignored the biting edge, that didn't seem to phase her.. she felt the tension, it was like she'd experienced that much of it that her own melancholy battled it. "I'd call you an idiot if you trusted me that quickly."

"I don't usually have time to feel remorseful about the cuts I leave, there is no point feeling it for the dead." she mumbled, a slow smirk spreading on her own. "Yes yes, you can still end me and all that, now sit and try not to be too macho man whilst I do this." she teased but she couldn't help when he undid the buttons of his shirt, to steal a quick glance down the front of his chest, his toned abdomen or even the hair on his chest. "Well, it was a bloody good cut wasn't it." Eris may as well have given herself a pat on the back for that one but either way, she unzipped the first aid kit and took out some antiseptic wipes.

"This might sting a bit, and I'm going to have to put at least three stitches in this, probably more if I'm honest. Reckon you can bite down on a rag and bare it?" there was a sad thought as she crouched, her eyes studying the wound so intently. This was the first time that she was making herself vulnerable to someone, really letting them see her with her weapons and not using them, but nobody had been there to show Eris how to do this she'd just.. learned how to do it herself because she had to. Her wounds couldn't have a trail, there was no hospital or doctor readily available to her disclosure of career. "There, not too bad?" she asked, her fingers were so oddly gentle... they could be deadly precise and gentle. She tried not to think about the fact she could feel the heat of skin, or that she could clam up at the idea. Maybe it was better, nobody touched her skin and she did it herself.. god people touching her, if she couldn't control it, she didn't trust it. The girl and the woman, neither had known hands that weren't cruel, so why let anyone's skin touch hers at all? Why would she not fear hands that'd always wronged her? She kept dabbing and swiping, her other hand seemed to hover, touching in small doses, like she had to ease into the contact more. "That already looks better. What do you reckon, give up being an assassin and become a nurse?" she joked. "I'd have an awful bedside manner."

August's gaze fell on the sight of the first aid kit she was holding, a scoff escaping his lips. "Attempting to make amends?" he quizzed, curiosity mingled with skepticism in his voice. He cocked his head to one side, remaining on guard around her until she gave him reasons not to be. "I don't owe you any sort of explanation about how I deal with the procedures of my assignments, Eris." He was hesitant to let her in, even if he'd known her for long years.

His eyes narrowed further, the skepticism deepening. "You think a bandage will fix things?" he asked, a biting edge to his words. The air between them was thick with unresolved tension, the kind that made every breath feel heavy. August knew Eris well enough to respect her skills and expertise. If she had intended to kill him, he wouldn't be standing here. He could feel the truth in her words, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. "Alright," he finally said, his voice still laced with mistrust. "But this doesn't mean I trust you." August took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and calculated, as if approaching a wild animal. His arms crossed over his chest, a defensive posture that conveyed his lingering wariness. He listened intently to her explanation about the weapons, her willingness to heal him if necessary.

The agent let out a low hum, his eyes never leaving hers. He noted the sincerity in her voice but wasn't ready to lower his guard. When she mentioned he was on her mind, his brow arched, curiosity piqued. "I take it it's remorse on yourself for that cut," he said, a hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. He thought of a decision afterwards. "Fine, but consider best for you to remember my warning," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt about his seriousness. With a final assessing glance at Eris, August moved to one of the chairs by the rounded table, taking a seat with a fluid motion. He began undoing the buttons of his shirt in a quick, practised manner, revealing his athletic build, his toned abdomen, and his hairy chest. The cut was there, fresh and raw, with small, fresh blood stains seeping into the fabric of his shirt. The wound had clearly suppurated, a testament to the tension and intensity of their previous encounter.