#I’ve been too productive lately to not crash at some point and go into a fun hermit depression spiral

[seilon]

hhdgsgddhh

[injaws]

d'pharaoh woon-a-tai, twenty-three, he/they   ⟡   —   is that BRIAR SUTTON i just saw walking around kilmer’s cove? i heard they’re a RESIDENT who’s been here for TWENTY-ONE YEARS. it slipped my mind, since they just tend to hang out at THE BOARDWALK. at face value, they’re said to be CHARMING and PLAYFUL, but i don’t know… some people have said they can be quite IMMATURE and AIMLESS. just don’t get on their bad side, i guess! don’t tell them i told you this, but i’ve heard they DO believe in all the ghost stories around town. who knows what the future holds for them! 

BASICS:

full name: briar sutton nickname(s): bri, b  age: twenty-three  gender: non-binary pronouns: he/they  sexuality: slut date & place of birth: december 04 in toronto, canada  occupation: piercing apprentice at eternal ink & part-time student at makah community college  faceclaim: d'pharaoh woon-a-tai notable characteristics: shaggy hair down to his shoulders, baggy shirts and even baggier jeans, a plethora of piercings (his ears, their tongue, his eyebrow, their bottom lip), a helluva puppy dog face, skin that's way too clear for the amount of junk he eats, constant need for movement (drumming on desks, tapping his foot -- shoutout adhd) traits: charming, juvenile, mischievous, playful, so unserious holy shit, aimless similar to: rodrick heffley (diary of a wimpy kid), percy jackson (percy jackson & the olympians), yu nishinoya (haikyuu), kurt wagner (x-men), naruto uzumaki (naruto) aesthetics: skateboarding down the beach boardwalk, a bag full of spray paint, grinning after you've gotten a bloody nose, torn up vans, high-top converse

BULLET POINTS — TW POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION, DRUG USE, DEALING, & GENERALLY ROUGH FAMILY DYNAMICS

– born to a single mother in toronto, canada, briar never knew his father. he was the product of a frat-party-fueled one night stand months before, and their mother wanted nothing to do with the man after that. a woman who believed she could take on the world, she thought she could handle a baby, too – even at the ripe age of 20. – what she couldn't have expected was the postpartum depression that would wrack her body when briar was born. she managed to push through, but it wasn't easy. he was colicky, then he was needy, then so hyperactive she couldn't catch up with them. this was around the first time she'd realized she'd bitten off more than she could chew (and around the time briar would tell you she began to resent them, if you asked) – constantly exhausted and barely out of the throes of mental illness, briar's mother knew she couldn't do this alone anymore. finally, she took up her family's offer to help raise briar, and moved them both to kilmer at age two – and god, did it take a village to raise them. briar never did particularly well in school; not for lack of smarts, because he had plenty. but he didn't learn the way other kids did, and no one was willing to stop and figure out why. they fell behind quickly, and in order to keep him from falling through the cracks, constant tutoring sessions began to replace the sports he'd liked to do, all for what he deemed useless because he just didn't get it.  – briar became kind of a "lost cause" to schools quickly, but never to his mother. she moved him from school to school, whenever he'd get in trouble at one – he'll tell you this only made the resentment worse. – briar falls into the wrong crowd fast. feeling outcast by the authority figures at his school, he finds his own community. late nights skating, tagging, and doing some type of drug are frequent. so are the pained looks from their mother when they come home as the sun rises once again. – they move out of their mother's house at age 17 after a blowout fight. they were going nowhere fast, she worked so hard for him and he's throwing it away. his grandparents, his aunts & uncles all tried to get him to stay, but he couldn't do it. – briar couch surfs for a while before crashing with his older cousin & their boyfriend, two of his best friends. he had no clue what he was going to do, but the couple struck a deal; he stays in school and actually tries to do the work, and he can stay with them. so, he finished up high school (c's get degrees – or diplomas – friends!). now, he's got a job at the skate shop on the boardwalk and is part-time in school...doing something. 

HEADCANONS:

– part time weed dealer, too but it’s to raise money ‼️‼️ at the end of the day, briar tells himself he can't keep disappointing everyone in their life. even if they dig their hole deeper. – kind of Known throughout the town as a “mina's burnout kid”, a “lost cause”, or “misunderstood”, depending on who you ask – also known as a sweet kid, because they were still helping little old ladies cross the street and carry in their groceries even though he was probably high while doing it – he's a ridiculous flirt. owns several pieces of merchandise with "i <3 milfs" on it. really annoying. – WHACKED with a case of severe adhd that does in fact affect every area of their life. diagnosed like as of four years ago. don't talk to them. they're medicated. (muns interpretation of this is based off of my own but pls let me know if anything i'm saying sounds wrong or fucked up etc etc)  – loves spray-painting & tagging. adrenaline junkie. his tag is "makwa", which means bear (specifically the black bear) in the ojibwe language. it was the nickname his mother and relatives called them growing up. tags rich houses and big company buildings often -- "eat the rich" in a person – always doing something with their limbs; tapping their fingers, bouncing their leg, fiddling with their hair. like the energizer bunny on crack – practices "california sobriety". is high often, says it calms him (someone take that shit away from him thanks) – doesn't really like alcohol, though, because he "doesn't like how it makes him feel" – will drink ten virgin pina coladas in one sitting, though – doesn't drive, prefers to just skate everywhere or take the bus. economic king – will never cut his hair beyond a trim. either wears it down or up in some kind of ponytail/bun combo. braids are rare; he enjoys wearing them, but doesn't love the work of doing them – very close with his grandparents (especially his grandmother) still. calls her at least three or four times a week. many of his fondest memories are connected to her. – talks to his mom maybe once a month. neither of them want to unpack what happened. – almost always able to talk his way out of anything. boyishly charming to an annoying degree. – enjoys an occasional crop top.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

– guh. check back l8r  

[yoongiversal]

😏😏😏😏😏😏 60 please with yoongi 😏😏😏😏😏😏

<3 <3 <3 harrow

Harrow! Thank you so much for this request. It was super fun!

This is a shorter one because had I continued I would have been drifting into uncharted territory (smut) and your girl is not ready for that yet so enjoy the edging. Oh this is also unedited because LoA calls me. I hope you like it anyway <3 Pairing: Roommate!Yoongi x Reader

Prompt: 60. "You need to learn how to clean up after yourself"

Word Count: 742 words

Warnings: Borderline Smut. Swearing, Minors DNI

If you would like to request your own drabble here are the prompts

The sound of crashing and thumping footsteps floods your ears, distracting you from your studies. God damn, your roommate could be one loud bastard. This little tidbit was conveniently not mentioned during his interview when he applied to be your house-mate. This was the last straw, you deal with the constant stream of music, both pre and post production. You really should have asked what his major was before you handed him the keys. Oh well, hindsight is 20/20 and you were just excited at the prospect of sharing a house with an attractive man. If you were truly honest with yourself, he may have mentioned it but you were too busy staring at his hands as he constantly wiped them on his jeans. Your mind wandering to the idea of roommates becoming lovers, and those hands wrapped firmly around your throat as you whimpered his name. Another crash shocks you out of your reminiscing.

“Fuck this” You get up and angrily move to the kitchen where you find your roommate throwing a pan directly into the sink, you wince at the close proximity of the loud noise. “Yoongi, are you insane? Some people are trying to study. You really need to learn to be quieter.” He scoffed at you as he grabs the pan out of the sink paint points it at you

“I need to learn to be quieter? You need to learn how to clean up after yourself!” You’ve never heard him raise his voice before. It is kind of scary, but also immensely hot. You look at him like a deer in the headlights as he throws the dirty pan back into the sink. “All of this mess is yours, _______. Do you realise that? I am cleaning up after you! So forgive me if I’m a little fucking peeved about it after doing it every day for 3 months.” You recoil back into yourself, staring directly at the ground. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. I didn’t realise.” His face softens as he notices how vulnerable you look.

“It’s okay, I’ve just been a bit frustrated in general lately. I guess.” He shrugs as he places one hand on the bench behind him as he leans against it. The other raising to gesture at you. “And honestly all of this doesn’t help” You look at yourself to try to figure out what in gods name he is talking about. Your mind wanders to your attire, underwear and a t-shirt, but you decide that is just wishful thinking. You aren’t exactly a guys ideal type. Squishy in all the wrong places, with cellulite and stretch marks adorning your thighs, stomach and buttocks. Does he mean your existence? You are distracted from your thoughts by the shadow cast upon you and you look up to see him standing directly in front of you. Too close.

Your heart quickens as reaches low, slipping his finger into the side of your underwear, “I mean these,” he pulls the fabric taut before releasing it. You gasp as you feel the sting of the fabric hitting your hip. “You live with a guy and you strut around in your bedclothes as though that isn’t going to have an effect on them?”

Now it is your turn to scoff, “It’s not like I’m a guys walking wet dream, Yoongi. Plus, apparently I'm a slob. How am I supposed to expect anyone to be attracted to me?” You begin to roll your eyes, the motion abruptly stopped by the feeling of large strong hands clasping your rear and lifting you to the nearest counter. Yoongi’s body settles between your legs, you try to pull your body away from him. Suddenly becoming hyper aware of your pounding heart, the heat emanating from your body, and the wetness pooling between your thighs. You hope to god that he isn’t aware of the effect he has on you, but you can tell by the smirk plastered across his face that he is.

“I find you attractive, and based on your reaction and those sweet rosy cheeks I can only assume you feel the same about me,” his hand trails up your arm before settling firmly on the back of your neck. His fingers tangle themselves into your hair as he pushes you forward. The digits in your hair tighten, tilting your head backward and exposing your neck to him. You feel his hot breath on the side of your jaw as his lips make their way to your ear. “Tell me you want this.” He whispers.

[amxranthiine]

kalon

(n.) the kind of beauty that is more than skin deep.

request:  Can I ask for platonic Thranduil with sister in law reader, reader is Legola's aunt and she saved Legolas' mother from dying but ended up paralyzed from waist down, needing to be on a wheelchair (let's pretend they have wheelchairs), and Thranduil is very grateful and helps reader a lot with things?

pronouns: she/her

a/n: like six months late but ITS FINE

warnings: ANGST n fluff. mentions of death and orc attacks. nightmares.

---

“Nana? Nana! Wake up, nana, please! You have to wake up!” A little Legolas screams as he watches his mother and aunt’s bodies be carried in by his father’s guard. His mother was pale and lifeless - cold hands and dark eyes, staring back into his own blue orbs as he shook her body. Though, he felt no love from her stare. Nothing about her was the same, her soul had already been lifted from her fragile body.

Next to her lay his aunt, Y/n, his mother’s sister. She was alive but unresponsive, blood was leaving her body faster and faster each second, pooling beneath her like a crimson ball gown. From behind Legolas, his father, Thranduil, was quickly approaching the scene. Loud orders from him to his guards could likely be heard throughout the palace. One would be a fool to miss the fear, desperation and anger laced in his voice.

Y/n stirred from the commotion, her eyes burning and her body flaring in pain as she tried to become responsive once again. She could feel every centimeter of her wound, the sword that stabbed her was likely poisoned - and it embedded it’s way into her spinal cord. She could feel her life force being drained, the light becoming far too close for her liking. Even if she lived, she knew nothing would be the same - with her body and with her family. She had been too late to save her dearest sister, and that thought alone was almost enough to make her give up. However, her little sister left her a nephew and a brother, both of which would need guidance recovering from her sister’s death.

“My King Thranduil -” Started the Captain, though he was soon hushed by the horrified Elf. Thranduil was terribly shaken up, his hair was messy and his robes wrinkled, likely from the speed at which he was running.

Thranduil looked at his beloved Wife and sister in law, and he felt his blood run cold. There was - there was so much blood. His wife was nearly blue and unconscious, was she... No, he wasn’t think like that. He looked over to Y/n, where she was struggling to open her eyes, and groaning from the giant hole in her back. He could feel the tears in his eyes, and he knew deep down that his son no longer had a mother.

Y/n heard her brother in law approaching, and even though she was on the verge of death, she felt as though she had to be the one to break the news. “Thranduil?” She croaked, her throat dry and her lips cracked.

The King rushed to her, grabbing a waterskin in the process and lifting it to her lips. She coughed as she drank down as much as she could. “Y/n...”

She ignored the burning in her eyes and looked up at him, and suddenly, she wanted to cry. She didn’t have that much time left, and she had so much to say. Y/n attempted to take a deep breath, then said her last words.

“I’m so sorry, Thranduil. I - I couldn’t save her - I tried so, so - hard. Please, tell Lego - Legolas we loved him.” She used the last of her energy to say those words, and soon, her eyes slipped shut.

“No! Y/n! You can’t leave me! You can’t leave us! Legolas will need guidance. I will need guidance! Legolas just lost his mother, he can’t lose you too!”

The weight of losing both the love of his life and his sister crashed down on him, and he fell to the ground with a heartbroken scream. A tiny body forced itself into his lap as his son wept along with him, not knowing if he’d ever see his mother or aunt again. Thranduil’s arms wrapped themselves around Legolas as he rocked back and forth on the floor, weeping and crying out to the Valar, cursing them and asking to spare them.

Thranduil gasped for breath as he jumped awake, beads of sweat rolled down his face as he regained consciousness, the nightmare - no - memory he had tried so hard to forget was now engraved into his head once again. He felt the urge to go check on his, now paralyzed, sister in law. Her wounds from that awful day were fatal, but somehow she pushed through the worst of it.

Though, not without consequence. Apparently the blade had all but destroyed her spinal cord, and because of it she was paralyzed from the waist down. The healers told him that it was a miracle she was still alive.

He got out of bed and put on a velvet robe, ignoring the chill in his bones from the cold air. He quietly tiptoed to her room, trying to ignore the feeling of dread, likely the product of his nightmarish memory.

Soon enough, as it was right down the hall, he arrived at his sister's chambers and, as quietly as he could, opened the door. His heart dropped when he saw that she wasn't there, and her wheelchair was nowhere to be found.

Thranduil panicked, his mind buzzing for any clue as to where she could be. The kitchens? No, she has trouble reaching the cabinets, and the accident made it even harder for her to see. Legolas' chambers? Hard no. She could be quite clumsy and can't be quiet to save her life. Literally.

He was starting to panic. What if she was kidnapped? His dearest sister in law, kidnapped by the very creatures who paralyzed her in the first place? It seemed realistic. At least, it did to Thranduil - who was losing his mind from worry. Though the only way they could get into the palace was through the-

Of course! The Royal Gardens!

In his state of worry, Thranduil had conpletely forgotten that Y/n liked to go to the gardens when she was having a hard time, because it was one of the only places that reminded her of her sister, the place where they had the most memories.

He took off towards the Gardens, not really caring about it being in the middle of the night as Elves were light on their feet anyway. In moments he was standing before her, nodding at the guards who took place at the Garden entrance.

Y/n was laying on the grass, her wheelchair was forgotten next to her, and she was playing with an orchid she had plucked, twirling it between her fingers carefully. Thranduil's heart throbbed as he realized that orchids were his wife's favorite flower, and that Y/n was missing her as much as he did. If not more, the sisterly bond between them was something he had never seen before.

He cleared his throat, alerting the woman if his presence. Her head turned slightly to the left as a way to acknowledge him.

"You scared me, Y/n. I couldn't find you, so I assumed the worst." He muttered quietly and sat down next to her.

She chuckled, "You've known me for how long and you still don't know that I tend to... gravitate here?"

The King sighed, he had always known that she used jokes as a coping mechanism, a way to escape her reality. "Yes, yes, I know. I just... I was worried," He frowned, taking the delicate flower from between her fingers. She paused, and he could practically see the gears grinding in her head out of his peripheral vision.

"You're having nightmares again, aren't you?" She asked, and he could feel her eyes burn into his head.

"They aren't just nightmares, Y/n," He twirled the flower absentmindedly, "they're memories."

This time, it was her who sighed, "Of that day?" She questioned, already knowing the answer, but his nod only confirmed it.

"I miss her," Y/n said, looking up at the night sky. Thranduil went to say something, but she held one finger up. "Let me finish. Sometimes I wish it were me who died, instead of her. She had you and Legolas to come home to, and I didn't really have anyone. Yes, I had family here, you and my nephew for example, but my sister was your wife and his mother, and the queen for crying out loud. Why am I saying this? I honestly have no clue. I suppose my point is... After the accident, I was overwhelmed in guilt and sadness. I didn't really focus on the fact that I was alive because of you. You and Legolas have taken care of me since day one and I can't remember if I've thanked you for that. So... Thank you. For helping heal my mind, and my body, even if their isn't much left of it. I am eternally grateful for you, brother."

Thranduil stared at her, and Y/n sniffled. At some point along the way she had started crying, and he felt like he was going to as well. He pulled his sister into his arms and held her tight as she cried, holding onto one of the last pieces of family he had left with an iron grip.

"You do not have to thank me, sister. You are family and you will be treated as such, even during hardships such as that one. If anything, I should thank you for being there for both Legolas and I while we were grieving, even if you weren't in the best state yourself."

Y/n giggled, much to Thranduil's delight. The sound had pulled a small smile onto his face and they both relished in the quiet for a moment.

Finally, Y/n pulled away, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Alright, my King, help me up."

Thranduil laughed, a very merry sound, and helped her into her wheelchair. "As you wish, my Lady."

[wroetospotterwp]

death eater x harry???? oR SOMEONE ELSE IDK AH

Dark Red

Pairing ✨: Harry Potter x Death Eater!Reader (Fem!) (also implies that reader isn’t in gryffindor n also set during OOTP)

Summary 💓: Y/N has been forced by her parents to follow in their footsteps and join the death eaters, it doesn’t help that her boyfriend is Harry Potter.

Word Count 🖊: 2,613

A/N 🗣: FIRST REQUEST FROM THE LEGEND HERSELF 🤌🤌 she first sent me an edit on tiktok and she was like idea, so we’ve went for it, also first song imagine! all the lyrics i’ll be using will be in italics but i’ve had to change pronouns to fit harry :)

Warnings ⚠️: swearing and made my heart ache a little, manipulation

Requested? 📮: yes! :)

Masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The rain was pelting hard against the window in Y/N’s dorm, the loudness of the rain drops smashing against the glass had awoken the girl from her slumber. She sat up from bed and leaned against her headboard.

Rubbing her eyes, Y/N adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. Everything in her life was just perfect, her grades were good, she had lots of friends, and last but most definitely not least there was Harry.

They had been dating for over a year now and Y/N could see it lasting, what she felt with Harry was something so indescribable, but it made her so happy. The two of them distracted each other from their lives. Y/N helped him take his mind off He Who Must Not Be Named, and he distracted her from her parents.

Her parents did not approve of their relationship, and Y/N knew it probably had something to do with the fact they secretly supported Voldemort. But she hadn’t ever told him that, for the matter she hadn’t told many peoples.

Y/N was staring at the top of her bed, her stomach beginning to turn. This usually happened when she got a bad feeling. Y/N focused on trying to figure out what might happen, fail a test? Have an argument with someone?

Y/N thoughts were going fifty miles an hour that she didn’t hear her friend wake up next to her. “You look deep in thought.” She joked, Y/N turning to face her. “What’s the matter?” Her friend questioned.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She mumbled, knowing how ridiculous it might have sounded.

“You’ve been listening to Trelawney too much.” Her friend brushed off with a smile, but it slowly dropped when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Come on Y/N, what could possible happen?”

“I don’t know what, but I feel it coming.” Y/N voiced her thoughts to her friend.

“Let’s do something to take your mind off this.” Her friend suggested. Y/N thought that be the best. Normally when she didn’t feel great, if she did something else to busy herself, the thought usually disappeared.

“Where are you planning to take me?” Y/N questioned, she got out of bed and collected her clothes that she would put on.

“I need to go down to Owlery, I promised to send my sister something from Zonko’s.” Her friend informed her, going into the toilet to get dressed.

Y/N decided to just get dressed in the dorm, the other three girls were fast asleep so she felt comfortable changing. The two girls them left the dormitory once they were ready and headed out their common room.

There wasn’t many students around the castle yet, but this was around the time many of them would be waking up. Many would wake up so thankful it was finally the weekend and they could have some sort of freedom.

Umbridge’s rule over the school was making many reach breaking point, there were new rules almost every day and it was completely turning Hogwarts into a prison. They weren’t allowed to do anything, couldn’t act like normal teenagers, she was determined to make everyone prim, proper and to not challenge the Ministry.

There only hope was Dumbledore’s Army, the only freedom they had. But Marietta Edgecombe had ratted them out, and they were all severely punished. Y/N felt sorry for Harry, it was all going so well and once they were caught, he blamed himself. Y/N tried to reassure her boyfriend that it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t get through to him.

In fact, the two of them hadn’t really spoken since Umbridge began giving them punishments, Harry was isolating himself and kept his distance. Y/N was missing him but sometimes he did this, so she decided to let him have a moment to himself and then he would be back to normal.

The girls eventually reached the Owlery, Y/N’s friend immediately heading to find her owl so she could send the products from Zonko to her sister. Y/N looked around at the different owls, but one caught her eye.

It was her parent’s owl. And it had a letter tied around their talon. Y/N untied the letter, about to read it until her friend appeared behind her.

“Has Y/N got a love note from Potter?” Her friend teased her.

“Parents owl.” Y/N informed her friend, who raised both brows. Y/N’s parents hadn’t really kept in contact with her much when she was at Hogwarts, so receiving a letter was unusual.

“What did they say?” Her friend questioned.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t read it yet.” Y/N replied, laughing slightly as she thought of something. “Might be so sad, might leave my nose running.”

“If it’s just to bring you down, ignore them.” Her friend reminded her, her arm wrapping around Y/N’s shoulder. “Let’s head back up, I’m starving.”

Y/N agreed, the two girls heading up the castle for breakfast. They entered the Great Hall and were about to sit at their own house table before Hermione waved them over.

“What’s that?” Hermione questioned immediately as they sat down in front of her, the girl’s two best friends were nowhere to be seen, but not unusual for them to be late for breakfast.

“Nosy are we, Hermione?” Y/N’s friend joked, Hermione playfully shrugged it off.

“It’s a letter from my parents.” Y/N told her, placing the unread letter onto the table.

“Oh.” Hermione mumbled, most people knew what Y/N’s parents were like, she had either told them or heard Harry’s complaints about they didn’t approve of him and the relationship. “Is everything alright?”

“I haven’t read it yet. I will after I have something to eat.” Y/N replied, scanning the table to try and find something to eat. “Where’s the toast?” Her friend reaching and grabbing a piece of toast for Y/N.

The three girls just quietly ate breakfast for a while and enjoyed each other’s company, Ron tiredly stumbled towards them. “Nice of you to finally join us Ronald.” Hermione greeted as he sat down beside her.

“Hermione, I was exhausted.” Ron huffed, grabbing as much food as he could onto his plate, he always acted like he barely eats.

“You always are.” Hermione mumbled under her breath, going back to eating some porridge.

“Where’s Harry?” Y/N blurted out, poor Ron had been harassed by her since Harry started to isolate himself. Ron most definitely knew more than she did.

“Still getting ready, mate.” Ron spoke with his mouth full, Hermione pulling a face and scoffing. “I think he’s alright today, you know, I’d have a chat with him today.” He suggested.

“Thanks Ron.” Y/N smiled, finishing what she was having. Her eyes caught the letter again, she really didn’t want to open it but she was also desperate to find out what they want. With a quiet sigh, she picked up the letter and began to read it.

Dear Y/N,

We hope you are well at Hogwarts, Umbridge seems to finally be turning that school around for the better, I’m sure you’d agree.

Well you would have when you were younger.

We miss our old Y/N, always following the rules and in our footsteps. But every since you started to attend Hogwarts with that daft old man as your head teacher, you changed.

And of course that boyfriend of yours didn’t help either, just like his father, always in trouble. Poor Lily should’ve saved herself.

As you know, the Dark Lord is back. You know how we always felt towards him, but we fear he will target us because of your choices. Many have heard he won’t accept us, because of your closeness to Potter.

He may come after us Y/N, we need you back on our side. Otherwise we’re all dead, you don’t want Potter finding out you’ve been killed by him? He can’t lose another loved one to the Dark Lord.

Write back to us as soon as you can, we can guide you along the way.

All the best,

Mum and Dad.

Y/N eyes began to well up, she knew that feeling from this morning meant something, but for it to be this bad? How on earth she was meant to tell Harry this? “Everything alright?” Her friend put a hand Y/N’s shoulder, the latter had completely forgot where she was at the moment.

“I need to go.” Y/N informed them, quickly jumping up from the bench.

“What did they say to you?” Hermione questioned, but Y/N didn’t answer her. The girl made her way from the hall, eyes trained on the floor to avoid any eye contact from her friends. But that made it difficult to watch where she was going.

Y/N crashed right into someone. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologised as she refused to look up, she just wanted to go back into her dorm room.

“Y/N?” A voice she could instantly recognise.

“I can’t talk right now, Harry.” Y/N rushed past him, she needed to think what she was going to tell him, if she was going to tell him.

“I just hope he don’t want to leave me.” She mumbled to herself.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It had been a few weeks and Y/N hadn’t said a word to anybody, her and Harry had completely switched places. She was the one isolating herself, trying to decide what to do. Ignore what her parents said, stay with her boyfriend and friends and hope to God nothing happens to them. Or risk listening to her parents, and possibly lose her relationships at Hogwarts?

She had been exchanging letters between her parents in the meantime to see what she needed to do, and it seemed to be to just join them at the Ministry, which didn’t seem so bad. Her parents worked high up for the Ministry anyway, so as long as they gave her permission to leave, Umbridge would let her.

Y/N had pretended to stay asleep until the rest of her dorm mates left, including her friend, before eventually getting up. The feeling in her chest was back from before, the one she got before her parents letter. “Something bad is about to happen to me.” She sadly mumbled, even the weather had mirrored her emotions, it was a dreary day, grey skies and gloom surrounded the castle.

Y/N fidgeted with her hands as she thought what would happen, anxiety fuelling her veins. “Why I feel this way? I don’t know…” She took a deep breath. “Maybe-“

The dorm door opened and revealed Y/N’s friend. “What the fuck is going with you?” She demanded. “What did they say to you to make you like this?”

“It’s complicated.” Y/N brushed off, should she tell her? She did tell her friend everything and maybe it would be good to have some advice.

After some deep breaths and forcing tears to stop falling, Y/N confessed to her friend everything. By the end of it, her friend was in complete shock, face contorting from confusing, to anger, to annoyance.

“And I just don’t know what to do about Harry.” Y/N sadly mumbled. “I think of him so much it drives me crazy.”

“Y/N, this is bad.” Her friend managed to stammer out.

“I just don’t want him to leave me.” Y/N cried, finally allowing the tears to fall.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Her friend snapped. “Of course he will. Joining the people who support the being who killed his parents?” She raised a brow. “I’d definitely forgive you.” Sarcastically she finished.

“But he knows what my parents are like.” Y/N countered.

“I don’t think he’ll care.” Her friend pointed out, deep down Y/N knew the same, Harry would be extremely hurt by this. “How the fuck are you gonna get out this?”

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugged. “You Know Who will kill them if I don’t help them.”

“Are you forgetting who your boyfriend is?” Her friend raised a brow.

Oh yeah, it would be completely fair on Harry to force him to protect her family. “Like he’s gonna show mercy.” Y/N huffed. “Harry was with Cedric and look what happened, he wants Harry and to just kill who gets in his way.”

It was silent for a moment, neither of them knew what to say. “What are you gonna tell him?” Her friend quietly spoke up, Y/N didn’t say anything. Her friend’s mouth fell open and eyes widened at Y/N’s lack of an answer. “You need to tell him.”

“And say what?! Sorry, I need to go help my Death Eater parents and probably do something for You Know Who.” Y/N snapped.

“I don’t know how to help you.” Her friend awkwardly mumbled.

Y/N knew she couldn’t. She was now trapped with no escape.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Y/N was at the Ministry with her parents, she still had no idea what they were doing or why they needed her, but it wasn’t as bad as she thought. The family got into an elevator and started to head down a few floors.

“Now, whatever you do, don’t talk.” Her mum warned her before the elevator stopped, the girl nodded and they walked out as the doors opened. Y/N could see Draco Malfoy’s father and another woman with curly black hair.

“Did it work?” Y/N’s father asked Lucius.

“I believe so.” Lucius replied, nobody really taking notice to Y/N.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” The black haired woman cackled.

“Now, now, Bellatrix. We have to leave him for the Dark Lord.” Lucius reminded her, the woman huffing dramatically. Y/N’s eyes widened, oh how she was praying they weren’t taking about Harry.

Please don’t be talking about Harry.

“What if he’s fine?” Y/N thought to herself. “It’s my mind that’s wrong. And I just let bad thoughts linger for far too long.”

“We’re going in. Have your wand ready.” Her dad whispered to her. They walked through a door with a handle in the middle into a huge room filled with crystal balls. She couldn’t study them for long before being dragged into the darkness.

The door had opened again a few minutes later, but Y/N couldn’t see who had walked in, only dragged by her parents deeper into the room.

“They should be here!” Harry’s voice was heard, Y/N’s heart dropping to her stomach. Why did he have to come here?

“Harry? It’s got your name on it.” Neville informed him.

“Follow Lucius.” Her mum whispered in her ear, Y/N reluctantly following him, who was now wearing a Death Eater mask.

“Harry!” Here it goes, Y/N kept back from Lucius as the group’s wands lit up the path, she desperately wanted to stay hidden and they would never know she was here.

“Where’s Sirius and Y/N?” Harry demanded as Lucius approached him.

“How fortunate we are to have Y/N right with us.” You could hear the smirk in Lucius’ voice, Y/N wanted to run and escape, but how could one girl manage to escape four Death Eaters?

“What are you talking about?” Harry angrily asked.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be shy.” Lucius gestures for her to come forward. Slowly and painfully, the girl got closer to Harry and the words kept repeating in her head.

“Don’t you give me up. Please don’t give up.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

thank you so much to @drearyxo for being my first request!! i hope this was class enough for you, no hate comments from you 🙄🙄

I HAVE TO SAY I LOVED WRITING THIS SO MUCHHHHH DEFO A FAVE i think you all know by now i’m definitely better at the dialogue part then anything else, but i’m quite proud of it all today :)

there could be a part two to this??? maybe, depends if people want it

hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @malfoysstilinski @drearyxo @just-a-bittersweet-tragedy @fizzleberries

[julek]

my kingdom for a kiss (upon your shoulder)

read on ao3 | rated T | 6.2K | no warnings | for @asweetprologue <3

The sun shines soft in Toussaint.

Geralt can’t remember whether it’s always been like that — if the golden tint that falls over the city as gently as wind-blown petals is genuine or just a product of his imagination. Spring isn’t in full bloom yet, timid flowers peeking at him from the side of the road, proud birds carrying twigs and feathers to their newly-made nests, the tree branches still cold after the last snow.

They’re not far from the main square, their pace steady and unhurried since they set out to Beauclair in the morning. The midday commotion fills Geralt’s senses, spices and bread and frantic conversations making him shake his head in discomfort — busy cities always take a while to grow used to; thankfully, he never stays long.

Next to him, Jaskier sneezes.

“This weather, I tell you—” he starts, but gets immediately cut off by another dainty, kitten-like sneeze. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, then makes a face at it. “Be the death of me.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’ll take more than pollen to take you, I fear.”

“It doesn’t stand a chance against me,” he says, and strikes a pose, like one of the heroes in the silly novels he insists on buying, but the puffy eyes and red nose dampens it a bit. He doesn’t seem deterred, though. “Besides, I wouldn’t let pollen, of all things, keep me from performing at tonight’s ball.”

Geralt hums, flicking a fly off Roach’s mane. They were in Spalla when Jaskier was approached by a passing servant and asked to partake in some baron Geralt couldn’t care enough to retain the name of’s early spring ball — naturally, Jaskier had jumped at the invitation, eager to be among the distinguished crowds that frequent such events, even more so after a long winter tucked away at Oxenfurt.

“By the way,” Jaskier says, picking an inexistent piece of lint off his doublet, aiming for casual even though he knows Geralt can hear the curious lilt to his voice, “will you be attending tonight?”

“I might not make it in time,” he says truthfully. He rubs his thumb over the contract he’s holding in his free hand, the sharp edges digging into his skin. “I will hunt this afternoon.”

Jaskier nods. “Well,” he says, his voice soft as he bumps his shoulder against Geralt’s. “You’re welcome there. I’ll vouch for you, you know.”

Geralt smiles at him solemnly — then bumps him back, laughing when the bard accidentally crashes into an old woman perusing the wares of a silver-tongued merchant.

“Geralt!” Jaskier says indignantly, smoothing out his doublet and shooting the woman a sideways glance that’s more annoyed than apologetic. “You can’t just push people.”

“Apologies,” Geralt says, not sounding sorry at all. “My balance seems to be off, lately. You know how it is.”

“With your old age, yes,” Jaskier says and pats his arm sympathetically. “I fear you’re showing signs of decay already.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, yes.” Jaskier takes his arm and loops it through his, a steadying hand at his back. “Your gait is off— look, even Roach looks concerned for your wellbeing.”

Roach looks unfazed.

“And all the lines on your face!” Jaskier gasps in mock-horror. “My, Geralt, we should take you to a healer. Perhaps you’ve been cursed— There! Those dreadful frown lines you sport, old friend… Have you considered retirement? I hear there are great Witcher-friendly settlements in this area, and— hey!”

Geralt smirks as Jaskier rubs the side of his head where Geralt’s innocent and weary hand slapped it. He can see the worn-down sign of the inn he favors when they’re in the city a few steps ahead, can already taste the fresh ale on his mouth.

“Whoops,” he says, trying to school his features into something that isn’t a smug smile. “Seems I’m losing control of my limbs, too.”

+

The Rose and Thorn is as it has ever been. Clean wooden floorboards that creak as they walk in, the blossoming vine hanging over the kitchen door, the innkeeper’s old dog napping in a spot of sunlight pouring in through the window.

It’s good.

Geralt likes routine. He thrives on it. He likes familiar faces and comforting smells and the sound of pans and pots banging together as the cook murmurs a string of expletives that would be considered indecorous on a lady’s mouth. He likes knowing where he stands, likes the well-loved booths and the tankards that are cracked around the edges, the face of an unruly lion faded on the ceramic. He’s pleased with the way the innkeeper’s eyes crinkle with recognition as she nods at him and Jaskier, as she wordlessly takes his coin and points her head in direction of the room he always takes.

They move upstairs, Jaskier’s lutecase hitting the narrow walls as Geralt pushes the door open. The room is simple — two beds and a small table under the tall window, light pouring in through the thin linen curtains. He sets his bag on one of the beds — the closest to the door — and puts his sheathed swords next to it before allowing himself a moment to sit and wind down.

“I’d say lunch is in order, don’t you think?” Jaskier says after a while, even though his words are muffled by the pillow he’d thrown himself face-down onto and he doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon. “I’m aching for something other than apples and jerky, if I’m honest.”

Geralt’s stomach rumbles in agreement. “Too coarse for your fine palate, bard?” He teases.

“Never,” Jaskier says, lifting an accusatory finger at where he supposes Geralt is sitting. Then, because it isn’t as dramatic as it should’ve been, he rolls over, facing Geralt, his hair sticking up at odd places and his face flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’m well used to all kinds of provisions, but the soul wishes for something a little bit more substantial every once in a while.”

“Hmm,” Geralt concedes. He laces up his left boot tighter than the right one and stands. “Let’s go, then, man of substance.”

Jaskier grins up at him, bright and easy, and leaps out of the bed so fast the wind gets knocked out of him.

Downstairs at the bar, there are steaming bowls of pottage being sent to the patrons that are starting to overflow the room, bread and cheese abundant at every table. It must have been a fruitful winter, Geralt reasons as he nods to the barmaid and gestures to the plates.

“Ale as well, Sir Witcher?” She says as she wipes her forehead, no trace of fear in her voice. She’s probably too busy for it.

“Two, please.”

He makes his way to the table where Jaskier’s already tearing a loaf of bread in two, tapping a rhythm with his fingers on the hard wood as he looks out the window at the passersby. There’s a neatly-made arrangement of wildflowers on the wall by his side, larkspur and thistle with a touch of baby’s breath, Geralt thinks.

“Here,” he says, passing the half-full tankard over to Jaskier and taking a sip of his own.

Jaskier hands him a piece of bread. “So, what are we slaying today?”

“The only thing you’ll be slaying today is your audience’s eardrums,” Geralt says, smirking at Jaskier’s huff of indignation. He takes a bite out of the bread. “There seems to be an archespore around the vineyards.”

“An— the—” Jaskier’s face does a complicated thing and Geralt wants to point out that he looks like a gaping trout before he says, “An archespore?! This mythical— magical— never before seen creature—”

“It’s been seen plenty of times,” Geralt points out.

“Not by me!” Jaskier thumps his fist on the table, defeated, and his ale sloshes dangerously. He wipes a hand down his face. “Ugh. And I can’t even fight you on it, because I’ve got, uh, what do they call it— Geralt, help me out here, what’s the word—”

“A compromise.”

Jaskier gags. “Yes. That. I shall honor my, uh, compromise to the arts and leave you alone and defenseless before such a legendary creature. Naught but two swords and the strength of” —he looks Geralt up and down appreciatively— “roughly twelve men built like bulls to keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

Geralt lifts his eyebrows, unimpressed, and leans back on his seat as a barmaid approaches them with a bowl in each hand. “Thank you,” he tells her, and digs in.

The stew is pleasantly hot and thick with spices and vegetables, the potatoes sweet and the meat tender, and he lets a pleased rumble escape his chest.

He doesn’t get to indulge in good meals very often — when he gets the opportunity to sit down at a proper table and have a proper plate placed in front of him, the food is usually sizable and filling, but never particularly appetizing. It’s mostly overcooked, tough meat — if he can afford it — and out-of-season vegetables that remind him of dried-out fields rather than a lavish banquet.

Jaskier is used to them, though. Or was — right before he was hit on the head with a chunk of stale bread and had the brilliant idea to trail after a Witcher, to trade comfortable beds and roasted pheasants for a hard bedroll spread on the forest floor and charred squirrel, at best. It still intrigues Geralt, watching Jaskier roll up his sleeves and dig into the pottage like it’s the finest meal he’s ever tasted, like it doesn’t pale in comparison to what he’ll be served tonight. Like he doesn’t see it — the immensity of the gap between Geralt’s world and his own.

There are moments of hesitation — moments when Geralt thinks Jaskier will wake up. When he thinks the bard will look around and shake his head in astonished confusion, and his blue eyes will widen comically like they do when he’s caught slipping treats to Roach, and he’ll see through the desperately-sewn seams of Geralt’s life. He’ll see that behind the so-called heroics and martyrdom there’s nothing more than a Witcher and a horse and a lonely road ahead.

But then, just when Geralt’s doubts start to creep into his hairline and show on his face, Jaskier will prove him wrong. Like now, as Jaskier lets his spoon fall into his empty bowl and leans back on his seat, sighing happily, nothing but contentment and warmth on his scent. As he watches through the window again, with a smile that dimples his cheek and sunlight crinkling his eyes.

Geralt feels something touch his leg. When he looks down, the innkeeper’s dog is resting his chin on Geralt’s thigh, his eyes big and pleading.

He picks up a hard bit of bread Jaskier had set aside earlier and carefully brings it up to the dog’s nose for inspection. After a few curious sniffs, the dog gently takes it out of Geralt’s hand, tail wagging excitedly. His fur is soft where Geralt smoothes it out with the flat of his palm, softer than Roach’s mane.

When he looks up, Jaskier’s eyes have abandoned the window, and he’s watching the two of them with a smile that’s half fond, half soft. Too tender.

Geralt’s never been looked at like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

It feels inadequate, and he pats the dog’s head to hide the almost imperceptible tremble of his hand. Jaskier’s smile reaches his eyes, and doesn’t waver.

It’s good.

+

The soft breeze wafting through the window as Geralt straps his swords to his back is tempting.

Jaskier yawns.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a nap in before you,” he yawns again, “go?”

He’s sprawled on his bed in a position that just can’t be comfortable, limbs long and bent at weird angles, pants unbuttoned and doublet resting on the back of a chair. His hair is ruffled and his cheeks are pink from the meal and the impending sleep that will follow.

“I’ve read, somewhere,” he continues, forcefully wrestling with the blankets that are firmly tucked into the bed, “ah, that napping increases, um— aha!” He wiggles under the covers. “It increases your strength, sharpens your” — a yawn — “mind, and whatnot.”

“Hmm.” Geralt adjusts his potion belt. “And how’s that worked out for you?”

Jaskier squints at him, managing to stay awake just to be annoyed. “See? You just continue proving my point! That,” he says, gesturing vaguely at Geralt with a half-covered hand, “would easily be fixed with one tiny nap!”

“Your naps are never tiny.”

“Well, no, because as a bard, I require more energy than a Witcher. Besides,” he says, closing his eyes, “I never seem to get enough sleep, you see, since I keep getting assaulted by this beast of a man who thinks dawn is already late.”

Geralt snorts and walks over to his bed. “Should put a contract out, then. A Witcher may come across it.”

Jaskier turns around, facing Geralt. “Oh, no, thank you. One Witcher is enough for me.” Geralt can hear the smile in his voice, though.

Checking he’s got everything he needs, and closing the open windows for good measure, Geralt turns to Jaskier. “I’m going. Stay here.”

This time, it’s Jaskier who has to snort. “Napping, remember?”

Geralt hums. “Don’t sleep through your performance,” he says, closing the door behind him, and the sounds of Jaskier tossing and turning while making indignant sounds makes him smirk.

The walk to the vineyard doesn’t take long. He passes the district alderman’s house on his way over, discusses the payment and whatever information he has to offer about the vineyard itself and the archespore sightings. The man’s face goes white when Geralt asks about any late violent crime.

The sun is still high in the sky when he gets to the heart of the vineyard, the earth uneven and freshly dug up. The victims’ bodies aren’t there anymore, he knows, but the archespore can’t be too far away from him. He draws out his sword and walks deeper into the field, watching the ripe grapevine sway with the wind.

There’s a vine in particular that calls his attention, thinner and bare, no grapes clinging to it. Just as he gets closer to it, it disappears under the ground. Geralt crouches and backs away, waiting to see it come back up — except when it does, it’s not just a lonely vine anymore.

The archespore stands tall and imposing, growling at Geralt as he signs Igni at it and aims for its trunk — he only gets one good blow before it buries itself under the earth. He waits again, looking for the green-brown color, and it shoots back up with renewed force, surrounding Geralt with acid-filled pods.

He casts a quick Quen and gets closer to it, choosing Aard this time as Igni causes it to relocate, and seizes the way it trembles minutely to get behind it and run his sword through its flesh. The creature growls, its jaw-shaped leaves curling around Geralt’s limbs. He struggles and manages to cast Igni at it, freeing himself as the plant relocates itself. When it sprouts back up, one of its pods blows up next to him, making him fall to the ground as the creature towers over him, its screeches deafening.

The archespore opens its forked mouth and screeches louder this time, acid shooting through its pores before Geralt can shield himself. The acid burns his skin where it reaches it, but the creature seems satisfied enough that it misses the opportunity to pin him to the ground. He reaches for his sword and lunges, casting Aard and tearing its leaves and damaging its thick stem.

This time, when it goes underground, Geralt has a feral smile on his face as he takes his Golden Oriole and upends it in his mouth. The venom stops burning for a second, and, when the archespore comes back up, its tendrils reaching for Geralt, he ducks and rolls, positioning himself behind it. The archespore screeches one final time as Geralt runs his sword from its head down to its core before it collapses to the ground, lifeless body still twitching. Geralt throws the severed head far enough that it won’t be able to reattach itself and slices up the remaining pods, their venom oozing sluggishly onto the torn-up ground.

He makes his way back to the city, the head of the archespore dripping slightly from its bag. The sun is setting, painting the walls golden against the pink sky, the shadows cast over the buildings helping the buzzing in his brain. He takes the less-traveled roads to avoid the commotion of the streets, but it seems the city is already mellowed out.

He thinks of Jaskier.

The first star of the night is twinkling against the pink-blue sky, the moon translucent. The baron’s residence is distant, surrounded by a stretch of the city’s walls, but Geralt imagines it’s close, close enough that Jaskier’s voice can carry through the night — that his soft melodies can reach them all.

He thinks of Jaskier, dressed up in his finest clothes that he had especially tailored — because I’ve filled out in the winter, Geralt! — drinking sweet wine from the vineyard he’s just left behind, mingling with the nobles and regaling them with honeyed tales of the Witcher’s heroism. The Witcher who is currently covered in muck and sticky with dried acid, carrying a severed head across the streets of Beauclair.

But Jaskier would disagree. He’d see a knight in shining armor, coming home triumphant after saving a family’s livelihood, the scars of the ferocious battle showing on his face. A defeated beast and a courageous warrior. A tale worth telling.

After dispatching the head and collecting his coin — what they’d agreed on, thankfully — Geralt heads back to the inn. The humming in his veins has simmered down, leaving behind a hint of exhaustion that clings to his bones and makes itself known. He calls for a bath, ignoring the innkeeper’s knowing look — she’s seen him trudge inside wearing worse.

Once he’s in his room, he takes his time unbuckling and sets his armor aside, a filthy pile that he’ll have to tend to eventually. After, he thinks, and sinks into the steaming tub. The room’s windows are open despite him closing them before leaving, tacit proof of Jaskier’s aversion for closed spaces and feeling oppressed, Witcher, and his distinct lack of self-preservation. Geralt’s chastised him enough about being easy prey, but there’s something in the way the bard moves that makes him want to protect, rather than prevent — he’d rather be the one to free Jaskier from his cage than be the one to lock him there in the first place. Not that Jaskier would ever let himself be locked away — he’s feisty enough on his own — but something about him screams freedom.

Geralt can’t take it away — wouldn’t ever want to. So he lets the cool air enter the room.

His bed is neatly made, pillows fluffed and sheets crisp. Next to it is Jaskier’s — somehow, pillows are on the floor and the sheets are turned inside out, twisted like a serpent around the blanket. His side of the room looks like it’s been a victim of a cruel whirlwind — clothes and accessories are strung about the room, picked up only to be frowned at and then put back down.

It’s tempting enough; to crawl under the covers and blow out the candles and get a half-decent night of sleep. Maybe get something to eat from the bar downstairs. Maybe drink some ale. But—

I’ll vouch for you, you know.

He knows.

+

It’s a beautiful night, in truth.

The ball is being hosted in the halfmoon-shaped garden, the cool spring breeze dancing around the guests as they dance themselves, carried away. Moonlight and candlelight alike wash over the cobblestone, a few delicate and intricate paper lanterns placed over a wooden railing casting gentle shadows on the whole scene. There are flowers all around — on tall vases in every corner and on the small centerpieces at every table, on the open hand of every statue and weaved into delicate crowns for everyone to wear.

It isn’t like anything Geralt’s seen before. He’s been to many balls — begrudgingly — but never one in which everyone carries themselves so freely, where raucous laughter is allowed if not mandatory, where not one person sits alone at their table, instead gathered around savoring the food, where there are chairs but no one sitting on them because they’re so busy prancing around the yard, marveling at the flowers and the outfits and the beauty of the night. Where everyone seems to be there because they want to be — because they belong.

He’s standing by a pillar, not hidden but not in plain sight, either. He tightens his jacket around himself, half to fend off the chill of the night air and half to hide the stain on the chemise underneath — a dangerous encounter with a drunk Jaskier and a goblet of wine. His leather band is on his wrist tonight, his silver hair tickling the spot behind his ear and catching on the high collar of his shirt. People are still coming in through the garden gates, the path to the grounds lit by small candles by each side of it, couples strolling hand-in-hand across the grounds and children running around, their flower crowns hanging off their heads.

There’s no music yet, just conversation carrying the night away. He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat somewhere in the gardens, but hasn’t seen him yet — perhaps he’s encountered one of his old dalliances and is catching up, as he’s often done before.

Geralt moves to the balcony with the stone railing, the one looking out to the lake. The waves are calm tonight, gently rippling back and forth, shimmering under the stars. He leans his elbows on the railing, feeling very small as he looks down.

Heights used to scare him when he was a child. It’s one of the only things he can remember. His house sat on a small hill, and every night, after his mother went to sleep, he would tiptoe across the kitchen and open the window, and he would look down and feel terror beat inside his chest, gripping his heart like a vine.

Now, as he looks down, he can see the scrape of the stones jutting out of the earth, the clear beach beneath him. He can see the boats resting on the shore and the stars reflecting on the water. Looking down, he just feels at ease.

The sound of children protesting catches his attention. When he looks back to the courtyard, he can see two small children — siblings, he presumes — looking at their mother with very exaggerated frowns on their tiny faces.

“You mustn’t use your sister’s dress as a cleaning rag, Petyr,” she says to the boy as she tries to wipe down the girl’s gown.

“But the floors here needed cleaning!” Petyr responds, petulant. “You told us things should be squeaky-clean.”

His mother is about to reply when suddenly a voice cuts in. “And your mother is right, of course,” says Jaskier, winking at her and meeting her smile of relief with one of his own. “But this is a party! You’re meant to have fun, you and your sister! Don’t you like to dance?”

Petyr and his sister shake their heads. “We don’t know how to,” she admits.

Jaskier’s grin is wide. “Well, then you must be born singers!” At that, the girl smiles.

“Mama says our singing sounds more like a dying wyvern’s last breath,” she says simply, and it makes Jaskier laugh, “but we like to sing anyway.”

“And you should! Singing is the way our soul gets to have a laugh,” he says knowingly, and slowly takes his lute out of his case. “I don’t suppose you know what this is?”

The children’s eyes light up. “A lute!”

Jaskier laughs. “That’s right!” He holds it out to them. “Here, try a strum.”

The children look at each other, then at the lute like it’s something precious. Geralt knows it is. “You go first, Fiona,” the boy whispers to his sister.

Fiona approaches the lute carefully, and holds out her little hand. Jaskier takes it on his own, then gently, very gently, he runs her hand through the strings. It’s a simple chord, and Jaskier’s holding the note, but Fiona looks blown away. “Wow,” she whispers. “It’s so… pretty.”

Geralt can see the way Jaskier’s mouth quirks up and his eyes go soft at the corners. It tugs at his heartstrings.

“Now,” Jaskier says, “Do you want to try, Petyr?”

The boy nods, coming forward. He knows what to do, having watched his sister, so he simply lifts his hand and strums. Jaskier’s changed the chord, a lower one now.

“Wonderful!” Jaskier exclaims, and applauds the both of them, making their cheeks flush. “Naturals, the both of you.”

Petyr’s hand is still on the lute, feeling the strings and reaching the pegs. “And what do these do?” He says just as he turns one of them, the string deflating slightly.

Geralt wants to laugh at Jaskier’s pained grimace as he tightens the string back as he explains to Petyr that he should leave those to the adults, but suddenly he feels a pool of warmth in his stomach, an ache in his chest he hasn’t felt before — as if all the spring’s air has been stolen from him.

He watches Jaskier play a silly little ditty for the children to dance with their very amused mother, and he can’t look away. Can’t stop staring at the way Jaskier’s eyes crinkle with joy and his face is full of laugh lines and his own flower crown threatens to fall down, small yellow petals gathering at his feet.

And the thing is — he knows Jaskier. He knows he’s kind, and thoughtful, and painfully honest. He knows he feels everyone’s pain as his own, everyone’s joy as his own.

Everyone’s love as his own.

He knows that he’ll play silly made-up songs for bored children just as he knows he’ll gather herbs for Geralt’s potions without being asked to, just as he’ll buy treats for Roach, just as he’ll carefully avoid the fork on the road to Blaviken.

He sees it, now — the way his face is lit up but not from candlelight but from within, because he’s so in love with the world that he can barely stand it.

And he’s seen him before — has watched his furrowed brow illuminated by wavering candles as he writes well past dusk, has seen the curl of his mouth and the freckles on his nose and the scar that goes through his left eyebrow and yet—

Yet it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time.

There’s a smudge of ink on Jaskier’s cheek. There always is. There always has been.

Geralt’s never wanted to wipe it off.

He wants to wipe it off, wants to tuck his hair back behind his ear and kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck. He wants to hold him close to his chest tight enough that maybe he’ll crawl into his heart and never leave.

It should scare him. It should feel like standing at the top of a hill and looking down.

It doesn’t.

Jaskier walks into the stage, a space of elevated marble he supposes a statue had been resident of. It suits him, the small pedestal — the way the golden thread of his dark green doublet glitters when moonlight catches it makes something ethereal of him, the few fallen flowers of his crown tangled on his hair — now tousled and matted with sweat — making something beautiful of him.

“Yes, yes, I’ve returned with more!” He exclaims at the whistles and cheers from the crowd, who’ve undoubtedly fallen in love with his first set. “We’re changing things up a bit now— How would you feel about something softer for a change?”

People cheer again, and Jaskier’s face breaks into a blinding grin. “Perfect! Now,” he looks around, “I want you to find the people you love. Your spouse, your lover, your friend, your sister, your child— everyone and anyone your heart beats for.”

The crowd starts gathering around in different groups, and Geralt smiles at how mismatched they are — tiny children and their grandparents, groups of single maidens hugging each other tightly, couples tenderly embracing each other.

Jaskier’s smile is softer, this time. “There,” he whispers. “Because love is something to share— This song I’m sharing with you.”

And then he’s gone — all his stage-borne facade falls away as he starts to play. His fingers are plucking a gentle, easy melody, and he’s humming along. People start slowly swaying to the sound of his voice, their eyes bright and shiny with mirth and love. Then, very softly, his voice barely above a whisper, he sings,

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you…”

It’s incredibly gentle, and Geralt feels drawn to it immediately. He watches as Jaskier sways with the music, eyes closed and brow furrowed, completely lost on it. There are buttercups on his hair and love in his mouth and Geralt suddenly wants to reach for him, put out his hand only for Jaskier to hold.

Jaskier opens his eyes as the last verse comes in. “Take my hand,” he sings, and he does a brave thing and looks into Geralt’s eyes. “Take my whole life, too.”

He would.

“For I can’t help,” he says with a smile, and looks out to the public. “Falling in love with you.”

The song ends, but Jaskier keeps playing the chord progression softly. The crowd isn’t there anymore — they’re all somewhere else, holding their beloved in tender arms and swaying to the tune of their love. As Jaskier’s playing slowly fades out, there is no applause, no enthusiastic cheering nor plea for an encore.

They all know.

Geralt’s looking out to the waves when Jaskier joins him by the railing.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Geralt turns to face him. “Hey,” he whispers back.

Jaskier’s smile is soft as he takes him in. “You came.”

“I did,” Geralt says, voice low. “Was told someone would be waiting for me.”

“And here I am.”

The waves crash against the rocks.

“That was a new one,” Geralt murmurs, looking at the scar on his knuckle. “The song.”

“It was,” Jaskier replies simply.

Geralt looks at him. “I liked it.” It’s no big compliment, but Jaskier seems to understand him all the same.

He always does.

“I’m glad,” he says. “I like it too.”

He leans his elbows on the railing, their shoulders almost touching. Jaskier’s cheek is still smudged with ink.

“You have…” Geralt says, gesturing to his own face, and Jaskier frowns at him. Geralt shakes his head. He licks his thumb and reaches, Jaskier’s skin soft as he swipes the ink away, his mouth slightly parted.

“There,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t leave Jaskier’s cheek. “Do they really say it?”

Jaskier frowns, confused. Their shoulders are touching. “Who?”

Geralt reaches for Jaskier’s flower crown and looks at him, a silent request. Jaskier nods. Geralt takes it in his hands and gently tucks the loose stems back together, the way he’d seen girls do it in the town square. He doesn’t lose a single petal.

“The wise men,” he says, placing the crown on top of Jaskier’s head, where it belongs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Jaskier takes them in his. “It is foolish to rush in unprepared. You taught me that.”

“Am I wise, then?”

Jaskier laughs, shakes his head. “I never said that.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, watching Jaskier’s rings as they glint in the moonlight, watching Jaskier’s fingers as they play with his.

“I love you, you know,” Jaskier murmurs, looking at their joined hands.

“I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Geralt looks at him. “I know.”

He needs the weight of his swords strapped at his back. He wants to be brave.

He looks down.

“I love you,” he says. “I can’t help it.”

Jaskier smiles. “Well, now you’re just being mean— plagiarizing my song right in front of me.”

“Jask.” It sounds like a prayer. Geralt squeezes his hands, amber meeting cornflower blue. “You know what I mean, when I say—”

“I know what you mean,” Jaskier says. “I know.”

They drink each other in, and Geralt knows this is the first time they’re seeing each other. Gently, he places one hand on the small of Jaskier’s back, the other on his nape, and brings their foreheads together.

Jaskier’s hands find their way to Geralt’s waist. Nobody’s ever held him like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

His nose grazes Jaskier’s cheek and he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

And Jaskier’s smiling when he says, “I wish you would.”

So he does. Soft lips against chapped ones, lute-calloused hands against scarred ones. Jaskier kisses him back tenderly, unhurried, and it’s honey-sweet like the wine he can taste on Jaskier’s mouth, like the love he can feel on his scent.

When they pull apart — only because they have to — Geralt circles Jaskier in his arms, pressing small kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, his forehead. It makes him laugh.

“Tickles,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice. “Your beard.”

Geralt presses a final, lingering kiss to his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers against his lips.

The party has carried on without them, as it is wont to do. There’s a harp player on the stage now, plucking a soft melody from its strings.

Jaskier’s eyes are bright when he looks up at him. It feels right, to be holding him like this, to drown in his warmth and press love into his hands like it’s all he can do — and it is. All he can do is watch into Jaskier’s eyes and try not to get lost in them and stop a smitten smile from curling on his lips.

He’s helpless, he knows. It doesn’t scare him anymore.

“Home?” Jaskier murmurs against his cheek.

The inn, he means. “Aren’t you playing?”

Jaskier’s mouth curls into a mischievous smile, one of Geralt’s favorites. “They’ll survive without me, I reckon.”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “Jaskier—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he protests, rolling his eyes. “We need the coin. Ugh— one would think the guy confessing his undying love—”

“Now, undying is—”

“His undying love for me would change things, would buy me some indulgence— not at all!” He buries his face in Geralt’s neck, letting out a long-suffering groan. “Why must you be so responsible all the time?”

There are many reasons. Looking at Jaskier’s flushed face and capricious frown, Geralt can’t remember any of them. “Go,” he says softly, nodding at the stage. “For me.”

Jaskier groans louder. “That,” he says, poking Geralt’s chest, “is a very unfair card to play.”

“And why’s that?”

Jaskier tangles their fingers together. “Because you know I would do anything for you.”

Geralt’s face softens. He knows. “Go. I’ll wait for you.”

Defeated, Jaskier looks at the stage, then at Geralt, pouting. “Won’t you at least kiss me farewell? I’ve a long journey ahead.”

It’s Geralt’s turn to roll his eyes — still, he reels Jaskier in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Great start!” Jaskier says cheerfully. “Now, like you mean it.”

“Insufferable,” Geralt murmurs, but he gives in. The kiss is deep and slow, and somehow full of promise. He can feel Jaskier sigh happily against his lips, his scent gone sweet and warm as Geralt’s hands find Jaskier’s sides.

They part, begrudgingly. Jaskier’s cheeks are deep pink and his flower crown sits askew on his head once again, so Geralt fixes it for him.

“We should get one for you,” the bard says, watching him.

“Hmm.” Geralt presses a final kiss to his lips. “Go.”

“I’m getting you one,” Jaskier says stubbornly, ignoring Geralt’s wish, and Geralt loves him too much. “Just wait here.”

He lets Jaskier go, and watches as he runs over to the stand where a young woman is weaving tulips and baby’s breath together into a crown. He watches as he excitedly gestures at it and cradles it in his tender hands, a look of genuine joy on his face. He watches as he turns around, his lips stretched into a too-wide grin as he waves at Geralt, pointing at the crown.

He watches as he walks toward him.

He waits for him to fit into his open arms. He waits for him to place the crown on top of his head and adjust it once, twice, before it’s deemed perfect. He waits for him to kiss his cheek and groan about having to return to his duty as entertainment for the evening.

He waits for him as he plays.

“I love you,” he tells him later, when they’re both tucked in bed and their fancy clothes have been folded and their legs are tangled together.

Jaskier grins. “Say it again.”

Geralt can’t hide the smile that curves his lips — he doesn’t want to. “I love you,” he says, and kisses his cheek. “I love you,” his forehead, “I love you,” his eyelids. “I love you,” his mouth.

He says it so much the words sound foreign in his mouth. He says it until they belong in his mouth again.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says after a while, candlelight framing the tenderness in his eyes. “It’s been good.”

Geralt smiles.

It has.

[hualianff]

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.  

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

[secretobsessionstuff]

the one recent anon about gentle caretaking is so so right, can you actually write something with that as a prompt for micah and alexi? both holding by the waist while the sickee is sick in the sink AND then by the forehead when it gets too intense in front of the toilet again. no scat please

I love this prompt so much and I had so much writing it! I hope you love it!! Thank you to the other anon who got this prompt started ❤

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

When Alexi went to bed at midnight, he was surprised to find the light on in the bedroom.

He had been looking forward to pulling Micah’s sleeping body closer to him as he himself fell asleep. Most nights he came to bed much later than Micah. It was their ritual. Alexi would wrap his arms around his boyfriend and fit himself perfectly into place. Half-awoken by the motion, Micah would make the cutest sound upon realizing that he was once again safe in the arms of someone who loved him.

Alexi was unusually eager for tonight’s ritual because he hardly saw his boyfriend all day. Micah was working on his manuscript non-stop to meet the upcoming deadline. The tight schedule meant that he needed to be alone. The boy was writing like he was running out of time…because he was. It was a particular exhausting stage in the process because his editor covered the document in red writing. As far as Micah was concerned, the red markups were nothing but blood—blood that marked the death of his favourite irrelevant scenes, the cleverest yet confusing lines, and the fun yet unnecessary side characters. Yes, killing your darlings is a taxing process that took all of Micah’s time and energy, and as Alexi would discover, his health.

There might as well have been an invisible Do Not Disturb sign on the bedroom door. The unyielding typing from inside the room also served as a reminder for Alexi that he couldn’t demand attention whenever he wanted it. He couldn’t just walk in and smother Micah in kisses until he did something with him. Now bedtime was Alexi’s only chance to be with Micah when he wasn’t distracted.

But the opening sentence still remains: the light was on in the bedroom.

Alexi stood confused on the other side of the door. This didn’t look like bedtime. Not hearing any typing from inside the room, he walked in to find that it looked a little bit more like bedtime. Micah was asleep, but at his desk. He wasn’t nicely tucked into bed. His head was resting on the desk next to his laptop. The screen was black.

“Micah? Alexi said quietly as he came over to his boyfriend. He clicked the space bar on the keyboard, making the screen come to life. So much red.

Micah never fully turned off the computer before falling asleep. His own sleep looked just as shallow as the computer’s. His back rose and fell sharply, and his breathing matched. He didn’t look restful at all.

“Micah, wake up, mon amour.” Alexi shook his boyfriend awake who shot up from the desk. Alexi was quick to grab hold of his shoulders. “Easy, you’re okay. You fell asleep while working.”

Micah squinted and put a hand up to the side of his head. His neck hurt from the awkward way in which he passed out. “What time is it?”

“Midnight…you never went to bed. Are you alright?” Alexi didn’t like the dazed look on his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, like they reflected what was on the computer screen.

“I wanted to finish the chapter,” Micah said while sinking back into the chair. His gaze sluggishly travelled to the screen. The late hour and the unfinished work made him groan and put his head in his hands. Like a slow-moving landslide, Micah dragged his hands down his face, rubbing his eyes deeply. It only irritated his already blotchy skin.

Alexi watched his over-worked boyfriend curiously. There was something romantic about a dishevelled writer. But this romanticized version did not belong on Micah. Alexi didn’t want a melancholic, candle-lit boyfriend who captured the essence of dark academia. He just wanted a boyfriend who slept well and who took care of himself.

The boy before him was not well. Alexi knew this even before touching Micah’s forehead. He knew it while he lightly traced his fingers over Micah’s cheek. He knew it for certain when he lifted Micah’s face with a hand under his chin. Micah’s laptop wasn’t the only thing overheating.

The boy’s eyelids drooped, forcing Alexi to crane his neck to make eye-contact. “Love, you need to go to bed. You’re burning up.”

“But I told Shannon I would have these chapters done by tonight.”

“Well Shannon is going to have to wait, isn’t she?” Alexi said as he grabbed Micah’s hands to help him up from the chair. Alexi quickly found himself supporting much of his weight as Micah’s head came crashing down onto Alexi’s chest. The boy let out a low moan. “I’ve got you. Are you still okay?”

“…’M dizzy.” Either Micah was having a stroke or was too tired to speak because the words came out in cursive. “…don’t feelgood.”

Micah proved his point (not that it needed more proof) by vomiting on the floor between their feet. The only reason he didn’t fall forward was that Alexi held onto his shoulders as he heaved.

“Oh gosh,” Alexi muttered under his breath. “Oh, you’re really sick, but that’s okay.” He said it so quietly that Micah wouldn’t even have heard it. He was telling himself that everything was okay.

Thankfully, Micah didn’t immediately heave up everything in his belly. The countless cups of coffee and handfuls of crackers were still nauseatingly churning in his gut. This gave him the chance to breathe and moan in pain.

He lifted his head slowly, making his tearful eyes look like pleading puppy-dog eyes. After wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he spoke with a voice so thickened by illness. “…my stomach hurts.”

Alexi allowed himself a second to feel broken-hearted by his boyfriend’s pain. Then that second was over, and he had to ease that pain just a little. “I would never have guessed it. Now, come on.”

The small intermission gave Alexi the chance to practically drag Micah to the bathroom. He could tell it wasn’t over by the way Micah kept a hand over his mouth. At least the toilet would be a better place to throw up than on the floor.

But Micah’s belly had other ideas. His sick and stubborn stomach couldn’t wait the two seconds that it would take to reach the toilet. As soon as Alexi got him to the bathroom, Micah made a sharp turn for the sink.

This round was much more productive than the last. A torrent of bitter black coffee and whatever other snacks Micah had for dinner filled the sink rather quick. Even the sight of it made Micah heave again.

As he continued to vomit, his vision blurred and blackened around the edges. Seeing the contents of his stomach was no longer the problem. The new problem was being unable to stand.

Alexi noticed the way his boyfriend leaned heavily on the counter and the way his legs wanted to give out. He switched from rubbing Micah’s back to holding him at the waist to keep him steady. It was oddly close to how he pulled Micah into his arms for their nightly ritual. This was not how he envision the night going.

“Don’t worry about holding yourself up, Micah,” Alexi said while spotting the white-knuckle grip that his boyfriend had on the edge of the sink. “I won’t let you go. I’m not leaving.”

Micah loosened his grip ever so slightly. He leaned back further against the body that kept him up.

After a few minutes of this, Alexi was startled by a change in sound. The heaving seemed to shift into choked sobs, each retch ending with a guttural moan. Eventually, Micah was left panting over the sink with saliva dripping from his lips. Actual sobs made his whole body shake. He tried not to look at himself in the mirror because he knew a dark-eyed stranger would stare back at him.

“Micah, are you…okay? Are you done?”

Micah shook his head to say no, shaking loose strings of bile that hung from his mouth. “I don’t want to do this anymore…I’m so tired, Lexi.”

Micah was tired. Tired of the stress he put upon himself. Tired of thinking that his worth came solely from his writing. He was tired of holding himself up when all he wanted was to let someone else carry the burden for a while. Alexi was so good to him. He carried the physical burden, that was Micah himself, so well. It was well past midnight now. Decades seemingly have gone by while Micah’s body broke down from the fatigue. Alexi knew that he was tired from heaving his guts up, but he was more than just physically tired. Unfortunately, Micah didn’t have the strength to tell him about the other kind. Fortunately he didn't have to.

“I know. I know, it’s exhausting.” Starting with his hands on Micah’s waist, Alexi gently trailed his fingers up the boy’s back. He felt as if there were a barrier between him and Micah. He couldn’t get as close as he wanted. All the gentle touches in the world couldn’t take away the pain. Still, Alexi didn’t take his hands away from his boyfriend, hoping that he was providing some comfort.

He also knew that touch was not the only way to offer comfort. “I know it’s exhausting to feel like you need to finish this project so that your life will have meaning. I see you everyday, working so hard to make your dreams come true. It’s tiring to do what you do. But you should know that taking a break does not mean that you’re giving up. You’re tired, I know, so sit down for a moment and lean on me.”

Micah listened. He exhaled slowly, letting the tension go from his shoulders. He let Alexi lower him to the ground, where they both sat in front of the toilet. Micah wanted to say so much, but…

He was breathing hard again. Alexi eased the pain in his mind, but the pain in his belly persisted. There was one last round before relief.

Micah’s head was heavy. Heavy with worries and pain. It was a struggle to hold his head up while another weak wave of watery vomit fell from his mouth.

Every muscle in his body wanted to betray him. His neck almost let go, but then something stopped his head from falling towards his chest. It was Alexi’s hand on his brow.

“Ugh…thank you,” Micah said breathlessly in between gags.

“I told you, I’m not leaving.” Alexi kept one hand on the boy’s forehead and the other on his back. “I’ve got you.”

And so, Micah’s stomach finally calmed down after his over-worked and under-fed body decided that was enough punishment for the mistreatment. An event like this certainly wouldn’t happen again because Alexi was going to make sure that Micah got enough sleep, and proper food, and down-time.

“Are you done?”

“Yes,” Micah said with a hint of a smile. He was already falling backwards into Alexi’s embrace.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 6- We’ll Stumble And Fall

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Realizing Zemo was behind the bombing in Vienna all along, your growing team of four heads to the airport. But will you make it to Siberia in time?

Warning: fighting, oh boy some angst, some fluff for the soul, long chapter

Masterlist

“I can’t believe you guys actually brought everyone a suit. How thoughtful.” You chuckle sarcastically while following the rest of the team over to the airport.

“Yeah. Well, wearing jeans and a t-shirt probably wouldn’t cut it.” Replies Clint as you continue onward, an amused smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Soon Steve has the six of you positioned in various areas in the airport as you await the inevitable meeting with the one and only Tony Stark and whoever the fuck has decided to join him. At this point you’re only here for Bucky and to get your asses to Siberia to stop the sleeping Winter Soldiers from ever waking up again.

Although it appears that something else is afoot between Steve’s friends, knowing only that this disagreement has something to do with the Sokovian Accords and freedom to fight or something like that you’re honestly not one hundred percent sure. All that matters to you is the safety and freedom of Bucky, that’s all that you care to fight about.

Leaning against an airport window, you squint your eyes in search of the others outside to no avail, nothing very dramatic is going on, well at least what you can tell by.

“Anything?” Wonders Bucky as you turn away from the glass and walk over to him.

Giving him a casual once over, you simply shrug, “Not yet. Guess the shows not ready to start.”

“Hey guys over here!” Calls Sam from further down the airport terminal, “Hurry! I see them!” 

“As you were saying.” Smirks Bucky.

“Shut up.” You mutter before hastily jogging over to Sam as he looks out the window, “Jeesh alright man, we’re here.”

“Alright good. Look I found the Quinjet.” Replies Sam as your eyes trail across the large parking lot where the aircraft sits comfortably in one of the hangers.

Soon he touches his earpiece to alert Steve, “Their Quinjet’s in hanger five, north runway.” He says before turning to glance at the two of you on either side of him, “Alright let’s roll, come on!”

Rising to your feet, the three of you begin booking it down the giant airport interior when suddenly some strange red and blue blur swings past the large glass windows on your left. Then it begins hastily crawling across the see through exterior. Not having a real moment to press the matter, you keep hustling across the tiled flooring, just a few steps behind Bucky.

“What the hell is that?” Wonders Bucky aloud as you keep pace with him, you could honestly ask the same thing.

Sam turns to look, arms pumping fast as he tries his best to keep up with the two of you, “Everyone’s got a gimmick now.”

Letting out a breathy chuckle at his timely complaining, your legs pull you closer to the exit as you take notice of how the strange blur can swing from roof to roof.

Without warning, glass shatters from up above and a second later you hear the surprised grunt of Sam as this mystery person slams him into a wall. Immediately Bucky comes to an abrupt halt that causes you to almost smack right into him, instead do you swiftly shift to the side as he launches himself at the....whatever it is?

You stand back in curious uncertainty as Bucky throws his metal fist directly at the guy in spandex, though to yours and definitely Bucky’s great astonishment, this spider kid holds his fist like it’s nothing.

“Whoa!” Exclaims the excited childlike voice as he glances from the arm to Bucky’s wide eyed face, “You have a metal arm? That is awesome, dude.”

A hot second later your boot comes into contact with his stomach, the kid goes flying across the tiled flooring, tumbling across the floor before quickly finding his footing once more.

You stand defiantly in front of Bucky and a slowly recovering Sam as the spider kid holds his stomach, pointing a shaky finger in your direction as he yells out a weak, “You have the right to remain silent!” Just as you smirk, before the shling sound of your claws emits into the tense atmosphere.

You can’t see it, but his eyes are as big as saucers, heart pounding a mile a minute from within his young chest as you suddenly step to the side for Sam to fly forward and swiftly pick him up. You snicker as they push and shove one another in midair while Bucky approach’s your side when you retract your claws once more.

“You’re good with kids I see.” He teases with a playful smirk as you gently shove him.

“What can I say Barnes, I just got that natural motherly instinct.” You sass back before jogging once again, Bucky hot on your heels as the two of you race after Sam.

You watch as he throws the kid off of him before turning mid air and blasting at one of the steel metal beams, the spider kid swings, just narrowly missing getting knocked the fuck out. He swings from one beam to the next before dodging a poster sized hunk of airport wall that was thrown by Bucky, stopping for a quick breather on one of the overhead beams just up ahead.

Bucky slides into a metal pillar for quick cover as you follow close behind, soon the two of you are hidden behind the pillar as the kid shouts, “Hey, buddy, I think you lost this!” In reply, Bucky peaks around the corner just as the spider kid slingshots it heading directly for his face.

Not waiting a precious second longer, you grab the back of his collar just as the hunk of steel wall clashes violently into the pillar, and presumably where Bucky’s handsome face would have been if but a second too late.

He falls into your arms, knocking the two of you to the ground with a thud as his body just about crushes your torso, “Thanks.” Mumbles Bucky as he quickly pulls himself off of you before turning around and offering his hand.

Clasping it tightly, you let him pull you to your feet as you give him an irritated look, “I’m gonna gut that little arachnid.” You growl angrily as his eyes crinkle in amusement.

Crash!

Following the sounds of glass shattering and metal snapping in two, you and Bucky race around the pillar and across more of the airport as Sam gets his hand stuck to the side of a glass balcony banister.

The spider kid landing on the side of another pillar as you two stealthily wander closer, “Those wings carbon fiber?” He wonders as Sam gives him a dirty look.

“This stuff coming out of you?”

“That would explain the rigidity-flexibility ratio, which, gotta say, that’s awesome, man.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been in a fight before but there’s usually not this much talking.” Sasses Sam in great irritation.

“All right, sorry. My bad.” Laughs the spider kid as he jumps from the pillar before swinging down heading for Sam, a moment later Bucky rushes past you and takes the full force of the blow. You watch as the three of them shatter the glass banister as both Sam and Bucky go flying downward onto the hard floor below.

That did not look graceful.

Stepping into the open you can’t do much but watch in annoyance as the little shit lands high up on a steel beam, “Guys, look, I’d love to keep this up, but I’ve only got one job here today and I gotta impress Mr. Stark, I’m really sorry.” Mutters the kid before reaching his arm out to web them again but is quickly interrupted when Redwing catches his webbing.

A second later he lets out a surprised yelp as he goes flying across the airport rafters before smacking into a steel beam and breaking glass as he makes a swift unwilling exit away from the three of you.

Smiling in deep satisfaction, your mind immediately remembers the two who are laying sprawled out across the grey stoned floor. Walking over to the broken and heavily bent metal beam of the destroyed railing, your ears quickly pick up the sound of your man, “You couldn’t have done that earlier.” Whines Bucky as you glance down at the two of them.

“I hate you.” Mutters a defeated Sam as you break out into a humored smile at their current states of dishevelment, Sam’s hands are stuck to his chest by the kids webbing while Bucky’s metal arm is held firmly against the ground.

Letting out a snort, they’re eyes instantly fly up to meet your smiling face, “You let that little shit kick your asses!” You cackle as Bucky rolls his eyes.

Sam gives you an annoyed glare, “Y/N you mind doing something productive and getting us the hell out of here?” He grumbles as you casually rest your hands on your hips.

“I don’t know? You two seem like a pair of big boys who can handle themselves.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky huffs at your sass, “Please Y/N.....I love you so much....like a lot.”

Biting your bottom lip you cave, “Yeah alright hot stuff I’ll be down.” The two of them watch patiently as you jump from the balcony before landing gracefully onto the floor below, you give them a wink as you move to crouch down next to Bucky’s left arm.

Summoning your claws to action, his eyes trail warily as you swiftly slice the webbing from the floor, a smirk upon your beautiful face as you look down at him, “Because you asked so nicely.” You muse before rising to your feet and freeing Sam from his sticky constraints.

Soon they’re set and ready to go, “Thanks Y/N.” Begrudgingly mutters Sam as you three run out the exit doors headed for the giant airport parking area.

In no time your little team of three reaches Steve and the rest of his crew, all of you running for the coming battle across the lot before a golden beam slams its might into the cement below, effectively blocking the seven of you from running any further.

The caped man known as Vision floats relatively unthreatening from above as be heeds a hefty warning, “Captain Rogers! I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good...you must surrender.”

Though you’d like to believe that surrendering would prove an effective choice leading to an eventual freedom, that does not appear to be an option as the rest of Ironman’s team finds their places in his court. The six of them, verse the seven of you. Well now this is certainly going to be an interesting turn of events.

Watching them expectantly, you shift your gaze over to Bucky who keeps steely eyes glared at the foes ahead, “You know I think maybe in retrospect we should have just lived a nice quiet life in New Zealand. Instead of fighting off Steve’s work friends.” You mutter as he turns a humored glance your way.

He gives the tiniest of reassuring smiles, “I think you’re right.” Whispers Bucky before looking back at the other team, “Just don’t kill anyone alright.”

Now starting at a slow jog, you smirk, “Fine. But I’m going to beat that cats ass.”

Racing at a full sprint now, both sides interject with a hard clash as each person from their respective teams finds a target. Punches are thrown left and right as everyone does their best to beat one another into submission, or at least until they’re too exhausted to fight any longer.

After a couple minutes of tag teaming the panther around like a sack of angry potato’s, he successfully manages to punt your ass into one of the portable metal ladders placed randomly around the airport docks. Your mind goes fuzzy as you pick your body off of the blacktop, blinking wearily, your vision slowly rolls the fog away in your disoriented state.

You take a step to help Bucky but are rudely interrupted by your own body’s shaky gait pattern, you stumble forward, quickly catching yourself when Wanda blessedly throws the panther off of Bucky just as ten sharp claws reach for his exposed jugular.

Shaking the dancing butterflies out of your head, Bucky shuffles off the ground before racing protectively to your side, face a mask of worry as he clutches your shoulders, “Y/N are you with me?”

Giving him an almost drunken smile, you reach your hands up to squeeze his forearms reassuringly, “I am awesome thanks for asking.” You giggle before Scott says some nonsense about getting big in a lab once.

God this team is so weird.

Brows furrowing in confusion, you and Bucky jog over to Steve as he stands behind some wooden crates when out of nowhere Scott grows to the size of a small building. Giant arms and legs moving like a humongous lumbering tree come to life; your eyes large and full of great bewilderment at this abrupt change, and you thought the Vision was the weirdest thing here.

You take a cautious step back, lightly smacking Bucky on the arm to gain his attention as you continue to stare up at a giant Scott, “Bucky, please tell me you see that very large man too.”

“Uh, yeah.” He slowly replies, just as bewildered by the giant version of Scott as you are.

You nod, “Okay good. I was starting to think my brain hadn’t settled right.” You admit as he sends you a half worried frown.

“Guess that’s the signal.” Adds Steve while the three of you watch as War Machine tries to knock Scott down, immediately getting swatted in the direction of a plane before that spider kid helps to stop him.

Starting to walk backwards, you cough to gain the boys distracted attention, “Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.” You urge as Steve nods before leading the way to the Quinjet that’s across a good portion of the airport parking strip.

Your jog is swiftly cut short when Vision manages to beam a huge watch tower, it crashes towards the ground when suddenly a great mass of red energy holds it in place before the building can hit the cement. Running faster now, the three of you race for the safety of the hanger, just barley dodging the heavy debris that comes crashing to the earth behind you.

Soon you’re met by Natasha who stands guarding the way to freedom, an apprehensive expression crossing her features, “You’re not gonna stop.”

“You know we can’t.” Answers Steve.

You raise a brow as she begins lifting her arm, “I’m gonna regret this.” She mutters unenthusiastically before shooting a blue bolt of electricity right into the body of the panther, your heads snap over to the sounds of his pained grunts.

“Thanks. I would have loved to do that.” You add before leading the way towards the Quinjet, Steve and Bucky close behind while Natasha shocks the panther once more.

——

The ride to Siberia was admittedly a somber one, no one really talked much for the duration of the lengthy trip except maybe a little at the beginning, along with some heartfelt words between you and Bucky as Steve piloted. Though a heavy dark atmosphere seemed to seep into the limited space as more time passed.

Soon enough, the Quinjet had reached its snowy destination in the mountainous cliffside edge of a previously unknown Hydra base. You stand on the edge of the opened aircraft as Steve stands by your side while Bucky finds a gun, “No weapons?” He wonders with a curious brow as you simply shrug. “I kind of got six retractable daggers in my fists already....so, I’ll be fine. They probably won’t.”

Steve hums in knowing answer as Bucky finally joins the two of you, and with that does everyone begin walking towards the opened metal doors stuck tightly within the protruding rock of the hidden base.

Humming in knowing answer, Bucky finally joins the two of you and with that does everyone begin walking towards the opened metal doors stuck tightly within the protruding rock of the hidden base.

“He can’t have been here more then a few hours.” You mutter while studying the snow covered tracks leading into the opened base door.

Bucky looks to you with a worried expression, “Long enough to wake them up.” And with that said, do the three of you enter.

——

The ride down the steel elevator is a somber and silent one, thankfully only lasting for a brief thirty seconds, soon the doors open and Steve lifts up the caged veil for the three of you to duck under.

Bucky takes the lead, gun drawn and ready as you walk silently behind him, preparing yourself if these other winter soldiers are awake and ready to kill. With nothing in close proximity or any sounds to be heard except for the movements of your companions, the three of you stealthily walk across the opening with your backs to the wall until you reach the short cement staircase.

Suddenly the door you came in from creaks and whines with the power of someone forcing the old rusted metal open, the three of you whip around in an alert flash. Bucky with his gun aimed at the mystery intruder from behind you and Steve with his shield held; blocking him, yourself, and Bucky’s lower half. Your claws obviously drawn.

“You ready?” Whispers Steve.

“Yeah.”

A moment later the two old grey doors are forced apart to reveal the glowing eyes of Ironman, Steve immediately lowers his guard as Tony dissembles his helmet back into his suit. Dark eyes appearing rather unthreatening as he nods to Steve, “You seem a little defensive.”

“It’s been a long day.” Mutters Steve solemnly.

Tony then looks up at Bucky, “At ease, Soldier. I’m not currently after you.” Before glancing down at you who’s guarding him, “And I don’t have a death wish to cross blades with you, I’m not here to brawl.”

“Then why are you here?” Asks Steve, voice with the tinge of uncertainty.

Tony shrugs while walking closer, “Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe.....Ross has no idea I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way. Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.”

Steve almost smirks, “Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork.” Tony scoffs at the irony of it all before Steve finally lets down his full guard, bringing his shield back to his side, “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

Tony nods, “You too, Cap.” Head back up to find Bucky’s, “Manchurian Candidate, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop it...”

Steve gives the two of you a reassuring nod, Bucky lowers the gun as you begrudgingly retract your claws. Soon after the four of you begin wandering the base until you all start walking down a small hallway leading into the main room where the soldiers are being kept.

Where they brainwashed Bucky and help him in cryo. Where they held you in the ice.

“I got heat signatures.” Announces Tony warily.

“How many?”

“Uh, one.”

The four of you walk into the large cavernous steel laced room, it’s dark and emits an almost bluish hue with the exception of the six holding chambers that give off a dull golden glow helping to light up the area ever so slightly.

This place really brings back memories you’d rather have seen buried and gone forever. Of course you’d get one last look.

“If it’s any comfort,” Speaks a familiar voice you’d loath to hear again, “they died in their sleep.” The four of you wander cautiously closer, observing the dead winter soldiers with a single bullet wound through their heads, “Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

Bucky shares a nervous glance with you, “What the hell?”

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.” Immediately the lights are called to life and in the far center wall appears the man from Berlin, Steve throws his shield but the man sits comfortably behind bulletproof glass, he smiles knowingly, “Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

“I’m betting I could beat that.” Asserts Tony while the four of you walk around the center area where they used to electrocute Bucky, and you when the manipulation and programming began to wear off.

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’d never know why you came.”

You scoff, “You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us all here?”

The man eyes you up as you approach the see through window, “I’ve thought about nothing else for a whole year.” He explains, “I studied what they did to you two, I followed the trail of dwindling breadcrumbs that you left behind.” Nods the man with a slight smile ghosting his lips as he studies your face, “Tampere. Brussels. Amsterdam. Venice. You’ve left quit the bloody trail in your wake, all those doctors and scientists who made you into Hydra’s best...”

“I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.” You whisper sharply, eyes glaring pure daggers into his soul.

He almost smiles, face leaning in closer now, “That is a fair statement. Nonetheless, it all eventually led me to you, and I am impressed with the work of those doctors. You are indeed a marvel to witness,” He smirks, dark obsidian irises studying your face as he raises a brow, “How’s your head?”

“Fuck you.”

The dark eyed man chuckles as Steve intervenes, “You’re Sokovian. Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I’m here because I made a promise.” Admits the man, of course, why else would this psycho go to such lengths to kill the winter soldiers.

“You lost someone?”

The mans face falls, eyes darkening in remorse and anger, “I lost everyone. And so will you.” He turns and presses a button before looking back up at the four of you. A small television turns on nearby that immediately calls your attentions, “An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead......Forever.”

You stand close to Bucky as Tony and Steve get closer to the glowing screen showing CCTV footage of a rural roadside at night.

“I know that road.” Points Tony in confusion as he looks up at the dark eyed man, “What is this?!” He shouts though nothing is given answer.

The video plays on as your heartbeat begins to rise, the bottom of the footage reads DEC. 16 1991, you know exactly what this is. And you’re terrified.

Soon a blurry car crashes into a telephone poll as the flash of a motorcycle rips by out of frame, soon it approaches once again, the rider parking it behind the damaged vehicle as he moves to the drivers side. A star on his left arm that flashes strangely in the light of the lamppost above; Tony’s face shifts to fear, anxiety, and anger in a multitude of seconds as the driver is pulled from his seat.

Soon the dark haired man slams his metal fist into the face of the helpless driver, ending his life right then and there. Deceased now, face bruised and bloody, the Winter Soldier drags the body back to the drivers seat before placing him there like he died from the impact of the crash.

Your eyes flicker towards the cement floor of the abandoned Hydra base as the video plays on, you know what happens next, and keep yourself from watching as the Winter Soldier kills Tony Starks mother before walking around the vehicle and putting a bullet into the security camera.

The film goes dark.

Immediately Tony tears his eyes away from the blacked screen and takes a threatening step towards Bucky, Steve places a hand on his arm as you place yourself between Stark and Bucky. Who’s absolutely hating himself right now.

“No, Tony.”

Tony stops and purses his lips at the ground, face shifting from frustration, pain, and anger as he turns to lock eyes with Steve, “Did you know?” He whispers softly, dreading the answer.

Steve pauses for a moment, “I didn’t know it was him.”

Tony’s face darkens with rage as he tightens his grip on Steve’s arm, “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers. Did you know?”

Tony awaits the inevitable as Steve gives him the honest answer, “Yes.” Tony reals back in shock, face flashing with disappointment and growing fury as he slowly nods, gathering his spinning thoughts at this heavy bout of deeply personal information.

A second later an iron fist flies up to send Steve sprawling across the cement flooring, instantly Bucky draws his gun but is quickly disabled when Tony shoots it out of his hands. You step into action but are rudely thrusted back by the force of a heated blast of energy that sends you crashing into a sleeping chambers metal side.

Your head cracks against the steel, leaving you gasping for breath on the hard cold ground as Bucky and Tony clash fists, Steve soon joining them as they brawl. Goddamn that hurt, fuck I can’t see straight, you mutter to yourself as a wet sticky substance slithers down the side of your neck as you pull yourself to a seated position.

Hands against the floor, the world feels like it’s swaying on a rocker as your visual field darts with blurry black dots; a small dark splotch patters to the floor as you stare at it in confusion. Balance somewhat stabilizing, you reach over to touch it, blood smears across the grey floor as you realize how heavy a hit you just took.

Good thing you heal quickly, or you might have just died.

Crash! Your head snaps up to witness as one of the holding chambers top portion falls to the ground in a massive heap of dust and debris, then out of nowhere Bucky races to your side, hands instantly lifting you to your feet, face dirt smudged and filled with uncertainty, “Y/N we gotta leave....oh fuck you’re bleeding. Come on, come on....come back to me please. You’re alright....you’re okay.....can you see straight?” He rambles in worry.

Pulling his hands from your irritated face, you shake your head to rid the ringing in your ears, “I’m fine, Buck. Let’s go before he kills one of us.” You urge.

The two of you make haste as you struggle your way up to the opened giant port hole, jumping from steel caged banister to the next on your way out to freedom as Steve fights to keep Tony from attacking either of you from down below.

Once Bucky reaches the edge where he’s able to see snow, you right behind him, a small missile from Tony’s suit crashes into the giant doors hinge. Causing you and Bucky to fall backwards into separate steel landing pads. Out of breath from the force of impact, you watch helplessly as Tony flies up to greet Bucky.

In any way but friendly. They clash and punch at each other until Tony gains the upper hand by wrapping an arm around Bucky’s throat, you stumble to your feet as Bucky quickly forces himself out and soon they both go tumbling downwards.

“Bucky!” You shout desperately, terrified that his landing could have cost him his life, fortunately when you scout over the edge, he’s laying on his side. In pain but alive.

Struggling to his feet he gives you a nod of acknowledgment before slipping out of view, almost immediately you hear the sounds of a struggle from the ground floor and with that do you jump downwards from landing pad to landing pad on your way to the bottom.

Boots smacking hard against the cement floor, you follow the pained grunts of the three men as they fight each other with everything that they have. Soon you turn a corner and are welcomed to sunlight and snowy mountains in the far distance from the old bases giant missile launcher air shaft.

By now Steve and Bucky are tag teaming Tony as the Ironman does his best to fight them off at once. Soon he gets a solid blast to Steve’s shield that sends him into the far wall, leaving him out of breath. Bucky takes a crack to the head that sends him to the floor. So much for holding their ground.

When Tony raises his arm for the final blow against Bucky, you’re right behind him; shoving his weaponized arm towards the opened cement pillars, the blast misses Bucky as it breaks a small part in the ceiling. Granted, you could end this all here and now by sinking your claws through Tony’s suit and ending the Stark line, but that would be an awful way to end things. And you’re done with the killing, even if he wants to kill Bucky.

Hydra won’t be the end to the last Stark. Not if you can help it.

Gripping onto his left arm and right shoulder, the Ironman quickly elbows you in the jugular; immediately a choked type of intense pain fills your body as the hit causes you to gasp and sputter while falling to your knees. Tears whell up in your eyes from the natural reaction as your hands rub frantically around your exposed skin.

Fuck that hurt like a bitch.

Unknowingly to you, Tony would have shot you again if not for Bucky who immediately gains the Ironman’s attention once more. Shoving him against the wall as his metal hand reaches to crush Tony’s suit reactor. They struggle against the strength of one another before a blinding light of orange sparks against Bucky, hitting the far wall while Bucky falls to the ground.

Throat healed, your eyes are wide in shock at the sight of Bucky, his metal arm is gone, the metal and wires still glowing a fiery orange and red from the heat of Tony’s blaster as a second later, Tony uses a lesser blast to knock Bucky forwards and across the floor he tumbles.

Steve is on Tony in an instant, the two of them beginning an intense battle of hand to hand combat while you crawl over to a bleeding Bucky who’s laying on his back, eyes closed though his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

Reaching his face, you shuffle to sit by his right arm, a frown adorning your features at the dark crimson that’s smudged against his sweaty face. Your hands shake with adrenaline as you touch the side of his stubbled cheek, “Buck, come back to me......Please.” You rasp weakly in between the strained grunts from Steve and Tony.

Ignoring them, you move a piece of blood soaked hair from Bucky’s face, tears threatening to spill if he doesn’t move, “Come on....open your damn eyes you beautiful bastard...” You urge, rubbing a comforting thumb against his jaw, “If you leave me here with these idiots I’ll fucking cut you...got it....” Your voice a shaky whisper, “..Bucky, please wake up...”

You give him a dismal look as he says nothing for a moment until his ocean blues open as you reveal the tiniest of relieved grins, “I’m not going anywhere.” He mumbles out, “Not without you.”

You smile weakly, “Good.” Suddenly you hear a crash like a shattering sound of glass and breaking metal, eyes darting upward, you instinctively unsheathe your right claws ready to protect Bucky with your life only to pause once you realize they stopped fighting.

Tony’s laying on his side as Steve sits nearby breathing just as heavily, faces both noticeable bloody. Tony throws him a wicked glare as Steve looks down in reluctant shame, soon he pulls himself to his feet, shield in one hand as he glances from Tony to the cold climate of Siberia.

Taking this as your cue, you look back down at Bucky, “Time to get the fuck out of here.” Before moving to help him to his feet, he clings onto your shoulder as you wrap an arm around his waist. He’s awkward and off centered from the recent loss of his appendage, but does what he can to keep upright with your aid.

Steve limps towards the two of you, shield still in hand as he slowly follows until Tony speaks, “That shield doesn’t belong to you.” He bitterly mutters, “You don’t deserve it. My father made that shield!” Steve pauses for a moment, nodding in understanding before dropping the shield onto the hard ground with a loud clang.

Coming to your aid to help Bucky up the ladder.

——

Not long after the intensive personal battle between Steve and Tony, plus the revelation that Bucky was the one this whole time who actually killed Tony’s parents and Steve knew about it. T’Challa soon found the three of you bloodied and exhausted in the snow.

Steve left the jet for Tony, while the prince of Wakanda, with a new perspective on the situation, allowed the three of you to join him in his own jet, while Baron Zemo sat silently in the corner. Handcuffed and fuming.

A jet ride later after dropping Zemo in a secured facility to rot for his crimes, T’Challa had brought you all into his home willingly. Soon his expert doctors had gotten things ready to place Bucky back under until they could figure out how to free his troubled mind of all the shit Hydra had forced in there.

Your eyes are trained on Bucky’s vitals when you sense him staring at you, god you feel so nervous for some reason. Blinking slowly, you draw your wandering attention over to him, “Y/N.” He mutters softly with the most adorable of smiles to bless his handsome face.

You give him a faint grin back, “Bucky.”

He slightly frowns at your disheartened expression, “Come here.” He beckons with a small wave of his hand that’s bound with an IV, “Please.”

Breathing slow, your body feels like it’s shaking with adrenaline, he can sense how anxious you feel. Walking closer now, Bucky reaches out his hand for you to take, “I won’t be gone forever, okay. Just for a little bit.”

Squeezing his hand, you reveal a weak half smile, “I know Buck, it just feels like they’re taking you away from me all over again. And I won’t know for how long.”

He looks down at your intertwined fingers, eyes trailing over the dark faded 00X13 permanently tattooed to your left wrist, “Yeah....I’m sorry it’s just.” He purses his lips together in thought, brows furrowing as his eyes catch yours, “I can’t trust my own mind. So, until they find out how to get this stuff out of my head....I think going under is the best thing. For everybody.”

Nodding, you frown, “I know, I don’t care how long they take to heal you alright. I’ll wait forever if I have to, I promise.”

Bucky reveals a beautiful smile of hope and pure love for you, one that is greatly returned, “What did I do to deserve you?” He whispers.

Smiling, you reply, “Get thrown around by the universe a bit first.” You chuckle lightly as your face slowly falls again, “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up alright. Then I can really show you how much of this you really deserve.” Bucky laughs as you throw him a suggestive wink.

Suddenly Steve wanders into the room, drawing the both of yours distracted attention as he smiles half awkwardly, “You two gonna be alright?” He asks, eyes trailing from you to his best friend, genuinely happy that Bucky has found love in this messy world.

Bucky squeezes your hand as he gives Steve a reassuring nod, “Yeah. I think so.” He replies, blue eyes turning to you.

“I’ve been alone most of my life already, what’s another however long?” You shrug with a sad smile, eyes focused on Bucky, “I can handle it.”

He smiles back, “I know you can.”

“Mr. Barnes, are you ready?” States one of the Wakandian doctors, “The chamber is prepared.”

He nods, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Soon Bucky slips off of the metal table and walks over to the glass Cryo chamber, pausing a moment to turn around and face you. He looks conflicted at the ground before bringing his gaze back up to you, a second later he steps forward to gently touch his hand against your cheek before pressing his lips to yours.

Steve and the rest of the doctors avert their gaze while Bucky holds you close, lips taking all they can get as he mentally memorizes everything about you. From your soft lips flush against his, to the curves and feel of your skin against his palm that he’s touched a thousand times before.

He wants so badly to stay with you and live in peace by your side, but he’s too afraid of his own mind and absolutely terrified of ever being forced to hurt you again. He’s lucky you were able to get past what he did to you in Berlin when Zemo was in control, but of course you are, you love him more then you’ve ever loved anyone. It wasn’t his fault, and you know that.

Breaking from the kiss, Bucky presses his forehead against yours as his thumb rubs reassuringly along your cheek. “Ya lyublyu vas.” Whispers your lover in Russian before tasting you one last time, slowly pulling away, he nods before turning to walk into the chamber.

He’s strapped in and then the long glass door ascends to close him in, a moment later you watch as he closes his eyes before the chamber is activated. Ice dances up the walls while below freezing fog seeps into the container, sending Bucky into a deep sleep for however long it takes.

Biting your bottom lip, you hold back the annoying lump forming in the back of your throat as Steve sets a hand on your shoulder, “He’s safe here. Don’t worry Y/N, he’ll be with us soon enough.”

You nod, eyes never leaving Bucky’s as you study his sleeping face behind the frosted glass, “I know, Steve. It’s just waiting is the hard part.”

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[rollflasher]

So, after the seeing the little discourse caused by that one moment in Rise of the Wisp, I think it’s appropiate to give my two cents on something that I’ve seen going on in the fandom regarding how the characters are portrayed in the series.

This is talking from my personal perspective and how I see things so I don’t believe this is an absolute truth, but I’ve noticed that fans have been more lenient to defend the actions the characters do even if they’re OoC, this has happened particularly to Sonic ever since IDW made some...questionable writing choices.

All I have to say is...look, Sonic is my favorite character of all time, I adore him and nothing is gonna change that, however, just because he’s my favorite doesn’t mean I’m gonna turn a blind eye whenever he’s poorly written even if it’s just a moment, and the same goes for the rest of the characters.

Something that I found interesting is that in the case of the IDW comics, I noticed that while the characters eventually pull a lot of OoC moments, they act superficially in-character or to make it more simple, they don’t act quite in-character but we don’t have quotes like ‘’Baldy McNosehair’’ and therefore fans have less of an issue because they don’t associate the writing with Pontaff, the same thing could be said for the half-late 2000s games, which had quite some serious problems with flanderization but apparently they’re not as bad because they’re more ‘’serious’’, 06 is an eggregious case of this where yeah, you got good things such as Shadow’s portrayal...then you got a load of poor characterization such as Sonic acting as a generic hero with the dimension of a cardboard box.

And I know some are going to ask ‘’But what’s so bad about some OoC moments if the rest of the writing is good? Aren’t you being too nitpicky? At least it’s not Pontaff’’ but here’s the thing, if we have this mentality of letting characterization issues slide because they’re not Pontaff, then all we’re doing is creating a snowball of issues that are gonna pile up sooner or later until they crash and cause a disaster, otherwise try asking Sonic Adventure DX and all the problems it’s been carrying port after port and how the result is the game having a much more negative perception than what it deserves. Flynn’s questionable takes on the characters are proof of that and don’t be surprised if at one point we got something worse than Pontaff because of that mentality.

Just because some fans critisize how the characters are written, even if it involves some brief moments, doesn’t mean we’re saying ‘’Oh! Sonic didn’t say ‘You’re too slow’! Therefore it’s BAD!’’, but rather it means that we care enough about the series to point out it’s flaws so it can be better, just because a product has it’s flaws doesn’t mean it’s automatically shit. (For instance, the Mania Adventures shorts are great but I legitimally consider the ending underwhelming and I still criticize Classic Sonic being mute, yet I’m not going out of my way to claim they’re shit because of that am I?). Besides, when it comes to criticizing the modern games, the fandom always preaches that they don’t want to settle for mediocrity and that’s why they’re so harsh with games like Forces, and that’s fine and all, but if we get selective with what kind of mediocrity we want to criticize, then I don’t believe the fandom is being critical, it’s just choosing which mediocrity it likes and sticking to that.

[thevirgodoll]

hi! i was wondering if you have any tips to stay organized and stay on task? i’ve been doing a short online course this year and have really struggled to ACTUALLY bring myself to do the work, as assignments and lessons are not under any time constraints i just don’t do it. i also have adhd so get bored or distracted easily. do you have any tips for me?

This is really close to me because I also have ADHD. I have both inattentive and hyperactive type. *As a result, this academic tip guide will be a guide for people with ADHD and not neurotypical people, without disability. There is a difference.*

I am doing online as well this semester.

1. I create a schedule. If I do not create a schedule, I will be unproductive the entire day. So, what will help you is to do things in orderly fashion.

For example, at 12p - I will do this assignment/watch this lecture. You have to dictate what time you’re doing everything. Then, you also have to block out technology distractions while you are working. 

-> Even if you’ve gotten halfway through the day with no schedule, write down or block off times on your digital calendar for what you are going to do at each time. ADHD is easier to tackle if you break things down into smaller tasks.

*Pro tip that I almost forgot: before you do anything, wear your day clothes. Don’t wear pajamas. Actually getting dressed or even doing hair/makeup changes things.

2. Download the Forest app after you have created your schedule. I consistently recommend this because it works in increasing productivity. It allows you to set it for however long you’re doing this task, say 30 minutes.

-> Why?: It will block all apps on your phone for (insert time here) to plant a tree, and if you leave the app your “tree” will die. Eventually, the more sessions you do, the more points you will gain to plant different plants, and eventually plant real trees around the world.

3. Have a list (& a planner) as well. Not only is the schedule creating structure, but the list creates even more structure so you know what you need to get done for the day. It also helps you not fall victim to the classic symptom of forgetting. Each day, you should write down what you WANT to get done and create your own times to look at lecture and assignments. Have goals for the day.

For example: complete assignment 2.

If you do not have expectations with yourself before the day begins, your ADHD will kind of take over and do something else. I have structure to my day. I set a timer to wake up at the same time. I take my ADHD medicine 90 minutes before my final wake up time, and I do my morning routine once it kicks in. Having the same routine helps.

-> Focus on your goals. Don’t be super harsh about the times.

-> Don’t overwhelm with how many things on to do list. Again, break it up into small tasks. For example, one part being: Wash dishes or fold laundry. It makes it less overwhelming to your brain and gives you a choice of which task. Typical non ADHD people just tell you to prioritize tasks but that doesn’t work for us. Do it in a random order and it gets the job done.

4. TAKE BREAKS! The other side to this is making sure that you give yourself adequate breaks.

*For hyperfocus, wait til your hyperfocus has started to wear off. Use it to your advantage for peak productivity. It is no joke.*

-> The misconception is that some people with ADHD are lazy and as a result, some ADHDers won’t take breaks. You can take a break. Healthy, long breaks do more for you long term.

-> Have a timer set. For example, after a 45 minute session or an hour session, I will take a break to do another task that has nothing to do with studying, like laundry, eating a snack, or stretching. Then after that task is done, I will go back to studying.

5. Have a workspace. Only do work at this space. I do schoolwork at my living room table and it is perfect. I do not study in my room because that is my sanctuary for relaxation and rest, not productivity. Make an effort to make the workspace clean, with your supplies - laptop, notebooks, pens, etc - readily available.

-> Once I get to my workspace, everything for the morning is already done. I’ve done my morning routine, so all there is left to do is hydrate while I study.

6. Recognize if you have adequate energy to do the task. Sometimes, with ADHD you may neglect your needs. If you are not getting enough rest, here are some tips:

•Bed should be for rest only.

•Blackout curtains

•Lavender essential oil, I have a diffuser but you can also put it on your pillow

•Background noise: pick what you want, lo fi music, rain sounds, binaural beats, singing bowls

•If all else fails, ADHD is often comorbid with other illnesses, meaning you could have a form of depression causing insomnia for example. This should be considered if you are having long term issues and symptoms.

7. Don’t overdo it. We are not neurotypical. Executive dysfunction is real - meaning our brains actually shut down when it perceives a task to be mundane.

-> You do not have to fit everything into one schedule for the sake of being “productive”. Each day should be what you know you can do, and there are different days to tackle different goals.

-> When you feel like you cannot continue, which is literally a symptom of ADHD, sit still for a few minutes.

8. Have a “What I Did Today” List. Because of how ADHD actually makes us feel, we don’t realize how much work we have put in. ADHD actually can be explained easily, we have about 2 dopamine workers showing up to work while most people are at maximum capacity. We are working overtime to do our best, even on medicine. So, acknowledging what we did today is good and encouraging, or at least reflecting in a journal.

9. Play music. It’s recommended to play study music without words because with ADHD we will submerge ourselves into the playlist of nostalgic 90s R&B. I recommend lo fi hip hop on YouTube, video game instrumentals, classical music, or jazz instrumentals. Whatever gets you going just do it!

General ADHD tips:

•Rewrite lecture notes and type the lecture notes.

•Color code with bright colors and pretty drawings or calligraphy

•Instead of telling yourself “I need to take notes” which usually leads to procrastination say “Rewrite lecture notes and emphasize main points” ... this is useful in your to do list but in everyday goals

•Generally try to get your assignments done ahead of time if there is structure to certain courses, if not, again, stick to the schedule. If you slip one day off your schedule then don’t beat yourself up. Breathe!!!

•Side effect of most ADHD meds is that you’re not hungry so buy easy things to eat like muscle milk or yogurt and granola or smoothies so you can sustain yourself

•Get a dry erase board to show what you need to do for the day and put it on the fridge with command strips

•To avoid forgetting things, put them at a table near the door where you leave your apartment/dorm/house.

•Don’t overthink the time it takes to get ready, often that’s why ADHDers are late. Better to be super early than late though - have a routine set so you know how long each task takes - for example “I know a shower takes me 15 mins, washing my face takes 60 seconds and a few more including sunscreen/moisturizer, etc...”

•In that same grain, set timers for going to the bathroom, showering, etc just in case you one day hyperfocus and push yourself too far

•Open the blinds!!!!

•Clean your room and tidy up your space. A cluttered space impacts your mental health in a really negative way. Your space reflects your mental state at times as well, so check in with yourself. Have a specific day where you know you’re going to clean, but ADHD sometimes gives us bursts of cleaning so take advantage of that as well.

•Anytime your water bottle empties refill it. Have your water bottle or mason jar next to your workspace, and drink 5-10 gulps. Seriously. ADHD depends a lot on hydration, especially if you are on medicine which naturally dehydrates you. If you do not stay hydrated, you’ll get that massive headache mid day and crash sooner. A lot of times, lack of productivity can be due to not drinking enough water.

•If you don’t take medication, then sometimes you may notice you love coffee, and that’s because it’s a stimulant. Too much of anything is not good, but balance it with water. If you’re going to use coffee to kinda “medicate” then do it close to when you’re going to be productive.

•Setting yourself up to do a task rather than envisioning the overwhelming act of doing the entire action. “Okay, lets just get up and get the first step down, such as opening the laptop or wetting the toothbrush.” Baby steps.

•Take advantage of accommodations! Your college more than likely has an Office of Disability Services. Also, email your professors...they’re actually just as stressed as you about classes being online.

•Remember that you’re already trying as hard as you can, so don’t listen to the narrative of “try harder”, “you’re *r word*”, “you’re cheating by using medication”, “just do it,” “it’s easy,” “what’s so hard about it?” or “you’re lazy”. Anyone telling you that, even yourself, is wrong. And DO NOT allow anyone to be ableist, even yourself.

•Validate yourself. Don’t let anyone to do the “I experience that too”/“I know what you mean”/“we ALL have trouble with this!” and they don’t have ADHD. No. It’s our experience, it’s valid, and unlike anything on the planet. If you’re reading this and you don’t have ADHD - no, you do not experience any of the things in my next bullet point.

•Don’t be hard on yourself if you stumble along the way getting this right. ADHD completely changes your executive functioning.

We see the task, but our brain blocks it.

We have something marked down as “important” but our brain tosses it out in the “trash”.

We watch an entire episode of a show, but our brain ignored the entire thing. Our brain picks and chooses what is stimulating, our brain changes our interests.

We have sensory overload, we have no dopamine, we have bursts of curiosity that cannot be contained (often inconvenient) and if interrupted, our brains cannot take it.

People often discount how many things ADHD actually changes because it’s widely misunderstood. I want to take the time to acknowledge that ADHD, formerly known as simply ADD, has different types: primarily inattentive, primarily hyperactive-impulsive, or combined which is what I have. So it’s not “hyper” and “relatable”. It is also not a buzzword to use to describe things. I must put stereotypes and misrepresentations of ADHD to rest.

It impacts us emotionally as well, which most people don’t know... such as rejection dysphoria — extreme sensitivity to being criticized to where our brains self destruct. Our brains don’t regulate emotions well.

ADHDers - do not fall victim to how everyone else operates and call yourself a failure. We have to work twice as hard and the results actually come out brilliant especially with our determination and imaginative ideas that are also seen in autistic individuals, honorable mention!

There’s good days and bad days. There’s literal changes in thinking that other people do not experience. We all collectively know wouldn’t be who we are without ADHD, but we all recognize the challenges. However, it makes me happy to see messages like this so that I can make a difference and hopefully help one person with ADHD, especially of color, at a time stop being so hard on themselves. 💗

[blueikeproductions]

Still observing BotBots since there’s been a bit of time to better gage people’s reactions to the show.

General consensus I’m getting is mostly “S’ok, BUT…!” with the buts typically being art style quibbles and observations on the humor. One comment that stuck out described the humor as “early-mid SpongeBob” but with too much shouting and overexplaining the jokes after setting them up.

I’ve noticed some shows do that a lot lately, and I don’t get why. Is that a new hip thing to do? Am I that old? (I’m in my early 30’s as of typing but still). Either way, if you have to explain the joke constantly, that’s not a great indicator of your show’s humor to me. Screaming your lines isn’t much better, bad TUFF Puppy memories, and I was mostly ok with TUFF otherwise.

Art style quibbles are what I see most of in my orbit, and even I’m kind of questioning what was going on here. Going by Instagram posts promoting the show, it seems changing the art style was the first thing they focused on, with different experiments on the Lost Bots. Burgertron at one point was very muscular, having Launchpad McQuack and Optimus like proportions (I guess someone was having fun with Grade A Beef Cake jokes at that stage). That design seems to have been repurposed for a french fry BotBot though, and for some reason he makes me think of TFA Sentinel… Must be the chin.

The female Lost Bots‘ final designs, similar to their toys, use an androgynous look, but concept art had both with really defined hips and comically tiny waists that I can’t help but laugh at after some factions complained about most female TF body types being too sexy. (Even then that always felt like a double standard to me going by some of the same people being totally fine with Prime Arcee’s bikini get up...). Even then Kickme still has really long legs still (perfect for kicking naturally) and has this X-J9 as a Crash Test Dummy vibe so far removed from the Mamemon looking toy I‘m surprised it’s just not a separate characte called Goalie or Kickstart.

Dimlit had a phase where he looked like a robot from Dexter’s Lab, and Clogstopper at one point was closer to his toy but had a scuba gear motif I kinda wish was kept. I’m actually not even sure what they were going for with Clogstopper’s new design. He looks like a Family Guy character in crappy Iron Man armor and if you weren’t already aware of his toy, he looks like he Transforms into a tube of Krazy Glue instead of a plunger. Dave the security guard kinda weirds me out because he looks like a disheveled middle aged Flint Lockwood (not helped is he specifically reminds me of the animated series version visually. -shudders-), and my first thought with him is he’s the Mr. Crocker/Gargamel of the show out to get the BotBots. And while he still… more or less is this, surprisingly he’s actually a nice guy and when put into a position to prove the Bots exist, he doesn‘t and assures them they’ll be ok. This backfires of course because an earlier panic call to the authorities leads to, surprisingly, a Sector Seven agent to drop by to investigate the tiny robots.

Sector Seven is a surprise since that organization had never really made the leap from the movies to other major non movie media (it was honestly right there in Prime and other Aligned media had it tweaked its direction. Even Cybervers’s first season easily could’ve been Bee on the run from Seymour Simmons and other nosy Sector Seven agents for awhile instead of just Slipstream’s jets). It’s also a surprise the show could potentially have a plot beyond “lil’ TFs partying it up in a shopping mall”, dare I say a revelation as to how the Energon gas came to be and created the BotBots? That’s always been a weird detail to me since A it’s a surprising lack of the Allspark, and B Energon as life giving stuff hasn’t really been played up since, well, TF Energon, and C the toys’ storyline seems to imply the regular Transformers don’t even exist beyond an in-universe product. I had a Cyberverse crossover bit where the BotBots were the result of Cheetor and BlackArachnia dropping the Allspark in a mall they were passing through and the impact sent a wave of Energon that birthed the BotBots, but the possibility the show could go with its own elaboration to the origin of the Energon gas is interesting. Easy answer is Sector Seven obtained a sample from the regular Transformers fighting over a chunk, and upon studying it, accidentally detonated it, the resulting mist bathing the mall. But even then that’s wishful thinking, and there’s really no reason for them to do so. Sector Seven being a go to alien investigation government antagonist once again works just fine. Still Sector Seven being in a new cartoon makes me wonder if they have a role in EarthSpark and will have a more solidified role in future cartoons.

Still the show itself largely just seems to be ok, and that’s all good. It WAS trending on Netflix yesterday a little later in the early afternoon so more people were checking it out than I was expecting. The only TF stuff that’s been constantly popular and trending were RotF and DotM, meaning people were far more interested in the movies than BotBots for a moment. What does that tell you, lol, but either way, seems BotBots is being watched now. And as much as it seems I’m ragging on it, I DO genuinely hope it (and EarthSpark) do well to encourage Hasbro to experiment more with the brand again and to stop reheating stale ideas (Prime Wars, War For Cybertron and Cyberverse were all heavily tethered to G1 nostalgia and slightly unpopular modern ideas and IDW tendencies and offered very little new ideas. Not to mention both pretty much expected you to be already be intimately familiar with TFs going in to fill in gaps, that it’s no wonder the current kid audiences tuned it out but main stay adult fans latched on to both). BotBots is entry point friendly for new kids, and I especially hope that’s the case for EarthSpark as well.

One last observation. As noted before, the voice talent is the Nelvana cast popular for shows like Medabots, Bakugan and Total Drama, so fears of having the somewhat unpopular voice talent and direction from WFC and Cyberverse return so far isn‘t an issue, with a much welcome return to better voice acting. I’m wondering if EarthSpark might also be made up of Nelvana voice talent, and if so makes me curious who in the talent pool would be a good Prime, Bee and Megsy. The guy who voiced Metabee is currently the French fry BotBot, so I wonder what Transformer in EarthSpark could be given the Metabee treatment~! Prime, RiD15 and Rescue Bots shared the same talent pool, and similarly Cyberverse, WFC and RBA shared their own distinct voice talent, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility! However if not them, considering EarthSpark is a Nick show and those shows mostly keep to the same talent pool for their own stuff, what are the odds we could get Tom Kenny to reprise Starscream~?

[icedthoma]

12c with Kuroo if neither are taken already lol happy 2k!

listless

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

12c.  Accidentally falling asleep + bookstore/library au

You weren’t an expert on reading people or anything, but you were pretty sure the guy sitting in the seat diagonal to yours was about to fall asleep right on top of his rather alarming stack of textbooks. 

It was finals week, and like one would expect, the library was packed. You recognized several Nekoma uniforms among the assortment of students gathered to do some last minute studying. This resulted in you not having a table to yourself like you would prefer. But then again...

This situation you had landed yourself in wasn’t too bad. 

A familiar Nekoma jacket draped around his shoulders, your table partner let out another yawn, resting his cheek on one hand while the other brushed away the long fringe of dark hair over his eye. You suppressed the urge to yawn yourself, grabbing the edges of your book just a little tighter as you shot another quick side glance his way. Of course, you weren’t shamelessly staring for no reason. It was just that he looked so familiar, you could barely come to a conclusion as to where exactly you had seen him before. 

It was bothering you, and it was frustrating how your brain decided it couldn’t focus on a single thing in your own textbook until you matched a name to the face in front of you. 

(Granted, it was a rather nice face, but that was besides the point.)

Pull it together, you angrily thought to yourself, snatching up your empty water bottle and sliding out of your chair. Do you want to fail your exams?

Looking out the window, you noticed that the sun was beginning to go down. The library would close soon, and some students passed by you on the way to the water fountain, already on their way home. 

You wished that was you. 

Quickly filling your water bottle, you made your way back to your small rectangular table and was met with a surprising sight. 

It seemed your mystery fellow Nekoma student had lost the battle against sleep in the time you were gone, his head peacefully rested against his forearm on the table. All you could make out was his black hair that seemed to defy gravity. 

Several minutes later (which had been more productive than the past hour you had spent at the library) you looked around for a specific worksheet you remembered setting to the side earlier before you left to refill your water. 

You spotted it, but unfortunately, it was stuck under a book that belonged to your tablemate, who’s arm was also pinning said book to the table as he slept. You sighed. You really needed that paper, but didn’t really want to wake him up...

Leaning over the table, you took the exposed part of your paper in your hands and gently pulled. It didn’t budge. Brow furrowed, you applied slightly more force in your pull, just enough that it wouldn’t rip the worksheet, and it finally came free. 

Of course, it was at that exact moment a nearby librarian came by and informed you that the library was about to close in a few minutes. 

The boy in the blue jacket sat up. 

Hurrying to straighten up yourself, you nodded to the librarian and said you would be leaving shortly, trying to avoid eye contact with the recently awakened, who was currently blinking rapidly and checking the time on his phone. 

He sighed and murmured something about unproductiveness, then turned a shocked look at you. 

“Y/n, was I accidentally asleep on something of yours?”

Your eyes widened. “Yes, but wait--how do you know my name?”

“Well, Lev wouldn’t shut up about his nice upperclassman who helped him with some of his work,” he laughed, rubbing a sheepish hand around the back of his neck. “He’s pointed you out to us a couple of times.”

Us? The only large group you could remember Lev being a part of from your brief interactions was the...

Volleyball team.

But of course, how could you be so--

“Ah--I just realized I never introduced myself to you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said, thankfully not afraid to talk at a louder volume now that the almost empty library was nearing its closing time. You noted how warm his hand felt around yours as he shook it firmly. “And...I’m sorry again about crashing on your stuff. My sleep schedule’s been all out of whack recently, haha.”

“Yeah, I feel you,” you sighed, overcoming your initial shock that he had known who you were this whole time, while you were over here losing braincells trying to remember where you had seen him in the first place. You swept all of your stuff into one pile. “And in addition to that, I’ve been so unproductive as of lately. It really adds up."

Kuroo made a humming sound of acknowledgement as he too began to pack up his things, and eventually the two of you exited the library and stood at the sidewalk outside. 

“Oh, and by the way, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t mention this little incident in the library to Lev the next time you see him.”

“Oh?” you asked, unable to resist the teasing grin that spread across your face. “And why is that?”

“I would never live it down,” Kuroo said with a groan. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Fine, I promise,” you laughed. “Kuroo Tetsurou, your secret is safe with me.”

He smiled and sent a short wave your way as he headed off in a different direction. “Thanks. See you around!”

“Yep.” 

Though your only connection to the volleyball captain was by this chance encounter and a mutual acquaintance, you couldn’t stop yourself from slightly hoping you would start to run into him more often at school as the two of you parted ways under the gradually darkening sky. 

Was that bad? 

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 5

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,300ish

Summary: Scott has issues with tampons. You get pulled onto one of Steve’s cases. (I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.)

Everyone was piling out of your car in the medical center parking garage. It was the early hours of the morning and it was time for your shifts. This morning though, Val walked in the bathroom while Scott was just taking a shower. She walked in in just a tank top and underwear, grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing her teeth.

“You don’t understand,” Scott continued as you all walked into the building. “Me gonads, you ovaries.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Val said. “We are out of tampons.”

“You’re parading through the bathroom in your underwear when I’m naked in the shower.”

“Can you add it to your list, please?”

“What?!”

“Tampons,” you clarified. “To the list, it’s your turn.”

“I am a man!” Scott yelled. “I don’t buy girl products.”

“Ooo,” Clint grimaced. “I wouldn’t say that if you don’t want to get kicked out. Besides, I bought them last time they needed some. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Still! I don’t want them walking in while I’m in the shower. And I don’t want to see them in their underwear!”

“It doesn’t bother me, okay?” Val said. “Look at me in my underwear, Scott. Take your time. It’s no big deal.”

As you walked into the hospital and headed to the locker room, you spotted Steve down the hall. You bit your check because how could a man still look that attractive this early in the morning? All dirty scrubs and patriotic scrub cap. You got changed into your scrubs before meeting Gamora at a nurses station. Your group of interns was in charge of pre-rounds today.

“You are the first person they see in the morning,” Gamora stated, explaining how you all should act. “You say please. You say thank you. You apologize for waking them up. You make them feel good about you. Why is that important? Cause then they'll talk to you and tell you what's wrong. Why is that important? Because then you can tell you're attending what they need to know during rounds. And why is that important? Because if you make your resident look bad, she'll torture you until you beg for your mother. Now get out there. I want pre-rounds done be 5:30 am.”

You all nodded at turned away, heading to your patients.

“I better get good patients today,” you told Natasha. “Yesterday, I had two guys with colostomies who needed dressing changes every 15 minutes.”

“I’m gonna be in surgery,” Natasha responded. “Today’s my day.”

“On what?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

You squinted your eyes at her. “What do you know?”

“I know that I was here at 4:00 and you didn't get here till 4:30.”

“Tell me.”

“No. I'm not the intern who's screwing an attending.”

“I am not screw—“ 

As you turned the corner, you suddenly rammed into someone. Their hands found your arms, steadying you. When you looked up, you saw Steve smirking down on you.

“I was just looking for you,” he said.

“Oh, really?” You sqeaked, quickly clearing your throat. Natasha simply rolled her eyes before walking away. “Um, why are you here so early?”

“I have a cordotomy at 5:00. I'll be out at 6:00. I thought I might buy your breakfast before your rounds.”

“I’ve already eaten.” You moved out of his grip to head down the hall.

“What’d you have?” He asked, following you.

“None of your business.”

“You a cereal person? Straight out of the box? Or all fruit and fiber-y?” He laughed. “Waffles? Do you like waffles?”

“Fine, leftover grilled cheese. Curiosity satisfied?”

“That’s sad. Pathetic, actually. A good day starts with a good breakfast.”

“Look, I don’t want to be seen with you in this hospital. Okay? It's unprofessional.”

“I’m just an attending getting to know one of his interns.”

“The intern he slept with.”

“I barely knew you.”

“And it should stay that way.”

“You want me to be professional? Fine. I’ll be professional.”

You stopped to face him. “That’s what I want.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.” He stared at you, glancing at your lips, as he leaned forward towards you.

“You’re gonna to be late for your cordotomy.” Then you hurried away.

“Nice talking to you, Dr. Grey!” His eyes followed you until you disappeared down another hall.

“You’re whipped,” Dr. Stark commented as he passed by. “A complete and utter, lovesick teenager who happens to be—“

“Seriously?!”

~~~

After taking care of a few patients, Scott found you walking up the stairs in the stairwell.

“There needs to be some rules,” he said.

“So, what, you and Clint can walk around in your underwear and we can’t?”

“It’s not the same—“

“Or that you can see bras just not panties? Or are we talking Amish rules here? Because if you think you’re gonna get Val to—“

“The amount of flesh exposed is not the point. You have to do something. It’s your house.”

“Clint seems fine with it.”

“Y/N—“

“Do you like Val? Is that what this is about? Do you have a crush on her?”

“Val? No. I don’t like Val. No. She’s not the one I’m attracted to.”

“Not the one.” You smirked as you opened the door and went to the nurses station you saw Gamora at. “So there’s a one?”

“That—That’s not the point! Look, there just has to be rules. I need to be able to—”

“Lang, L/N!” Gamora called. “Get Barton or Quill and head down to trauma. Rogers needs you.”

“Rogers is in surgery,” you replied, confused.

“He got pulled before he could start.”

“Great,” you breathed out quietly.

On your way to trauma, you found Peter and unfortunately had to tell him to come with you too. Walking into the trauma room, you immediately noticed what was wrong with the man on the stretcher.

“This look like—“ You began.

“Nails,” Steve interrupted. He held up on x-ray that should 7 nails in the man’s head.

“I can’t see my hands,” the patient complained.

“He’s conscious!” Scott exclaimed, completely surprised.

“Breathe, Scottie,” Peter said. “Don’t pass out.”

“Use 4 mg’s of morphine,” Steve ordered. “Titrate up to 10. You know what? I don’t want him to move.”

“I can’t see,” the man repeated.

“It’s okay,” you comforted. “We need you to be very still, Mr…?”

“Castro,” a nurse answered. “George Castro. He tripped and fell down a flight of stairs holding a nail gun.”

“Sick,” Peter commented with a nod.

“Somehow he managed to miss a blood vessel. That’s a minor miracle,” Steve said. “Optic nerve’s been affected. Can you feel this?” Steve poked George’s right side.

“No,” George answered.

“Numbness on his right side. What’s our immediate concern?”

“Infection,” you responded.

“Right. I wanna be pulling these nails out in the next half-hour. I need a CT.”

“CT’s are down,” a nurse stated.

“What?”

“They exchanged them out last night. Computer's crashed; have them back up by 1:00.”

“So typical. So what are the options?”

“An MRI?” Scott suggested.

“No!”

“Brilliant, Scottie,” Peter said. “The man's got nails in his head. Let's put him in a giant magnet. You want films from three axis points and a C-arm in surgery.”

“Excellent! You guys dig up research and find out if this has ever happened before. Go!” 

The nurses and Steve began pushing the stretcher away.

“My wife, my wife, my wife,” George cried.

“She’s on the way, Mr. Castro,” you said.

“Stay with him,” Steve told you. “Keep him calm and look for changes.”

“Ooh,” George gasped. “I can’t see.”

You and Steve shared a concerned look. 

“Watch him,” Steve instructed. “Carefully.”

With a nod, you and the nurses took George to a more private room. You’ve been asking him questions to fill out his chart.

“Would you say that your health has been good recently?” You asked.

“Maybe some headaches,” George answered. “Nothing compared to now. Sally, that’s my wife. Sally, she’ll say, ‘why you think they call it a gun, moron?’ She hates the damn thing.”

“With good reason.”

“Baby?” A woman called, entering the room with Steve.

“Sally,” George responded.

Sally rushed to his bedside. “You are in so much trouble.”

Steve leaned in to whisper to you. “Get a history from her before you scrub in.”

You had to hold in the shiver that itched to be released. “…okay…”

“Thank you.” 

You met his gaze. He definitely knew what he was doing to you, and enjoying it way too much. After asking George more questions, you allowed the nurses to prep him for surgery while you talked to Sally outside of the room.

“Will he be able to see again?” Sally wondered.

“We won’t know until the nails come out,” you replied.

“Did he tell you he takes photos? Beautiful photos. It's his hobby. I just got him a new digital camera now he can't stop, you know? He always has it out, always taking pictures of me.”

“George told me that he’s been having headaches. Can you tell me anything about them? Have they been recent?”

“Um, I’m not sure. Maybe the last couple of months.”

“Have you seen him experience any disorientation or dizziness?”

“Yes, yes, I have.”

“Okay.” You noted that in his chart, thinking that there might be an underlying cause to all this.

~~~

“Vertiginous or light-headedness?” Steve asked. You were telling him what you had discovered as he scrubbed in.

“Light-headed,” you answered. “Sometimes he’d have to brace himself to get out of bed.”

“Could be a million things. Simple orthostasis.” He noticed your face, still thinking about it. “What?”

“What made him fall down the stairs with a nail gun?”

“He said he tripped. Just because you hear hoof beats, don't assume zebras.”

“Something caused him to lose consciousness and fall down the stairs. It’s possible that he could have a tumor.”

“Look, I have no idea why this guy's still alive, let alone moving and talking. Not a clue. Let's just get him through this before we start digging around for something else.”

Steve entered the OR and you scrubbed in. The OR gallery was already jam packed with other doctors wanting to watch the incredible surgery. You held the tray as Steve pulled the nails out and set them in. The surgery took a few hours, which you were way too happy about.

“Do you see any bleeding, Dr. Wilson?” Steve asked.

“It’s clean,” Dr. Wilson responded. “Way to go, Cap.”

Steve laughed. “No, way to go team. Good job everybody. Thank you. I don’t think we made it worse. The big question is the optic nerve. But we’ll know in the morning.”

“Should I order the MRI?” You asked.

“He needs to stabilize.” Steve walked towards the OR door, tearing off his gown. “We’ll do it tomorrow.”

~~~

The next morning, you, Val, Clint, and Scott were all getting ready for your shifts. Scott and Val were in the bathroom. Val was brushing her teeth in her underwear while Scott was showering, again.

“I reminded you before you went!” Val shouted.

“I forgot when I got there,” Scott replied.

“No, no.” She threw open the shower curtain. “You were so passive-aggressive.”

“Naked!” Scoot covered himself. “I am naked in the shower!”

“They’re just tampons, Scott. I really needed tampons.” You and Clint entered the bathroom. “I’m not riding in the same car with him.”

You began looking through the cupboards. “If you're going like that, you're not riding with me… where are the tampons?”

“He didn’t buy them.”

“You didn’t buy them?!” You and Clint repeated.

“Oh, man.” Clint continued, running a hand down his face. “Way to make both our lives hell now.”

“Men don’t buy tampons!” Scott shouted.

“You know what?” Val got into Scott’s face. “You are gonna have to get over this whole man thing, Scott. We are women! We have vaginas! Get used to it!”

“I’ve got you, girls,” Clint said. “I’ll run to the store during lunch or, if that doesn’t work out, after our shift.”

“Thank you, Clint,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re a life saver.”

“See, Scott!” Val exclaimed. “Real men buy tampons!”

~~~

After getting into scrubs, you made your way to George’s room. He was awake and talking. As you read through his chart, Steve joined you.

“Grilled cheese again?” He asked.

“Cold pizza,” you replied.

“You live a sad life,” Steve chuckled. “Is he awake?”

“Even better.”

“Really? Let’s see what his nurse says.” The two of you entered the room. “Hi, Sally, George. How are you this morning?”

“Tell them what color my dress is, George,” Sally encouraged with a smile.

“I’d know the answer to that even if I couldn’t see,” he responded. “It’s blue.”

“Can you tell me what you had for breakfast on Monday?” Steve asked.

“Cheese omelet. And on Sunday. And on Saturday. And on Friday. Sally gets up every morning and makes me a cheese omelet.”

“It’s the only thing he likes,” Sally said.

“It’s the only thing you know how to cook.”

Steve smiled as he wrote some things down in the chart. “Okay, well, things look good. But I am ordering an MRI for this morning to check for residual bleeding. Dr. L/N will take you down there right now.”

With a nod, you wheeled his bed down to the MRI. You got him set up before going behind the glass to wait with Steve.

“How do you think I’m doing?” Steve asked. You quirked a brow up at him. “With this whole professional thing? Is it working?”

“Not anymore,” you responded, looking at the screen. The scan began pulling up. “Look.” You pointed.

Steve turned to study it. “Damn. Yeah, right there.” Steve pointed to the scans. “That’s a tumor. It’s midline near the hypothalamus.”

“Shit.”

With a sigh, Steve explained the options to you before you two headed back to George’s room, to explain to him and Sally.

“Best practice, probably to remove the tumor,” Steve told the couple. “Probably because I can't get it all. 99%, but not all of it. Radiation and chemo, you're looking at maybe five to ten good years.”

“Let’s do it,” George quickly said.

“You haven't heard the downside. See, the tumor is located in a part of your brain where your memory and your personality resides. And because of the fuzzy edges of this type of tumor, I have to cut out a lot. George, you stand a good chance of losing your memories. Of losing who you are.”

“Is there any other way?” Sally asked.

“The alternative is gamma or cyberknife treatment with focus radiation. It's less evasive. There's little chance of memory loss or him losing himself but it would only give Jorge maybe three to five years.”

“Three to five years?”

“This is an incredibly difficult decision. If you have any more questions or you need to talk to me, I'm here, okay?”

They nodded and you and Steve took it as your queue to leave. It was hard decision that they needed to make. You don’t know if you’d let them cut into you at risk of your personality.

~~~

After taking care of some other patients, you found your way back to George’s room. Steve was just walking out of it.

“They want the surgery,” he told you.

“They want you to cut it out?” You clarified.

“Mm-hmm. It’s their decision.”

Steve left and you waiting outside George’s room until he was asleep.

“Sally?” You called, motioning her to meet you in the hall.

“Yes?” She replied, meeting you.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Yes.”

“You need to consider what you'll lose. What good is five years if he doesn't joke about your omelets and he can't remember seeing you in that blue dress?”

“It’s still five more years.”

“You don’t understand. He’ll be there, but we won’t be George. He won’t even recognize you.”

“This is none of your business.”

“You have no idea what this will do to you. Isn't five good years better than ten bad ones?”

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Steve questioned, coming back up to you.

“She needs to understand.”

“But I do understand,” Sally said. “You think that I'm being selfish, that I don't want to give him up.”

“I don’t.”

“This is George’s decision. And it that means ten bad years for me, fine. I'll give him those years because I will give him whatever he wants.”

“Look, I am so sorry, Sally,” Steve apologized. “Just please forgive her. She's an intern.”

“And if he doesn't remember me, if he doesn't remember what we are, he's still my George. And I'll remember for us both.”

“Okay, alright.” 

Steve guided Sally back into George’s room, shooting you a disappointed look. You watched as Steve spoke the couple through everything again, making sure to keep your distance from the room. When he was done, Steve came back out, shaking his head at you in disappointment.

“You crossed a line today,” he warned. “It’s not your place to talk to patients like that.”

“Understood,” you stated, stoically. “I’m sorry, Dr. Rogers. It won’t happen again.” 

As you walked away, Steve sighed, looking back at you. You went to the locker room, it was time for your shift to end any way. After you had changed and packed up your things, you turned to head out and saw Steve leaning in the doorway. He looked nervous, in his street clothes with his hands in his pockets.

“Look,” he started, “I’m sorry about—“

“Don’t apologize,” you interrupted. “I was out of line. Understood.”

Steve gave a nod. “Right. Well… uh… I came… well, I occasionally eat breakfast at this small place on Broadway. I was wondering if you’d join me in the morning?”

“Really, Steve? Don’t you understand that this is wrong?”

“It’s just a breakfast. Two friends meeting up for a meal.”

You sighed. “Where and what time?”

He grinned, straightening up. “The Broadway Cafe, let’s say 7?”

You headed through the door way. “I’ll think about it,” you said as you passed him. “Good night, Dr. Rogers.”

“Think about it?” He rushed after you. 

“Yes, I’ll think about it.” You stepped into the elevator, turning around to face him. Steve didn’t enter. “We’ll see in the morning.” 

Steve gave a small smile as he shook his head and the elevator doors closed.

“Shit,” he realized quietly. “Maybe Stark is right. I’m whipped.”

“Did I just hear you say that Tony’s right?” A strawberry blonde woman came up beside Steve. “Please don’t tell him that, he doesn’t need a bigger ego.”

“I definitely won’t, Pepper. He’ll never let me live it down.”

“No, he won’t.”

“But you should listen to him. Go out with him.”

“Are you serious?”

“Sadly, I am.”

Pepper clenched her jaw, studying Steve for a second. “Alright, I’ll give him a chance. How bad could it be, right?”

“How bad could what be?” Tony asked, coming up to the other two doctors. “Good evening, Rogers, Pepper. What are we talking about?”

“Oh none of your never mind,” Pepper responded. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

As Pepper left, Steve watched Tony watch Pepper walk away.

“I think we both might be screwed."

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

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[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: While dealing with a surprising new development in their relationship, Loki and (Y/N) are stuck in the middle of an explosive feud between Steve and Tony.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’d call this a filler chapter but I absolutely love writing about the Avengers as a whole! I also thought we needed a little break from the plot for some team bonding before things get too crazy lol I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen November 22nd, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“You read this book when you were how old?”

(Y/N) smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to reorganizing her closet. “I was seven. I checked it out from the library without telling my Aunt Evelyn and read it late at night; I couldn’t sleep without my nightlight on for months afterwards but I’m glad I read it, since it’s a literary classic and everything.”

Loki let out a half-laugh and turned the page of his book. “Well, if we’re ever blessed with children, I think we should wait until they’re at least twelve to introduce them to Dracula. Perhaps even fourteen.”

“Children?”

In an instant, Loki froze and it dawned on him what he’d accidentally said. (Y/N) was also frozen, her arm still extended to grab a hangar from inside the closet. “I-I…I just meant…I’d like to…” Loki cleared his unusually tight throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind having…you know, children. Someday. With…with you.” Dammit, I’ve made a mess of things again, Loki inwardly groaned.

They’d only been together for a little over four months and it was much, much too early in their relationship to bring about the subject of children. But after he acknowledged his love for (Y/N), it was challenging for Loki to envision a future without her in it and lately, the idea of a more permanent future with the woman he loved was all he could think about. He knew that his girlfriend liked children; back when she still worked at the New York Public Library, he’d fondly watch her helping them with their homework or reading to them and since officially becoming the Cosmic Sorceress, she’d visited the children’s ward at the nearby hospital once a week to cheer up the young patients. And despite what others might believe, Loki also liked children and the thought of being a father one day – while admittedly a little nerve-wracking – was not an unwelcome one.

Just as (Y/N), with her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in shock, opened her mouth to reply, there came the sounds of voices shouting angrily from the common room down the hall. In an instant, Loki and (Y/N) summoned their magic into the palms of their hands before sprinting out of her suite and down the hallway.

Steve and Tony stood on either sides of the common room and were fully engaged in a blazing argument by the time Loki and (Y/N) arrived. Skidding to a stop beside (Y/N), Loki’s first thought was that he’d never seen either man as angry as they were now, even during the Battle of New York.

“Because you flat-out refused to listen when I said to wait, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at the hospital in critical condition!” Tony yelled.

Steve stepped closer and shouted back, “And if I hadn’t acted when I did, an entire apartment complex would’ve been demolished anyway and dozens of people would be dead! Those agents would be fine right now if you hadn’t hesitated to use your scanners!”

“You mean, if I hadn’t stopped to think the situation through?!”

“You’re acting like a civilian, Stark, not a soldier! Our job is to make the tough decisions as quickly as we can for the benefit of the whole, we don’t have the luxury of holding committees for every choice we make!”

“Bullshit, it’s better to weigh options instead of barreling in without a plan; that’s what you’re best at, though, isn’t it? If you hadn’t made the dumb-ass decision to crash that plane in ‘45, you and Carter-”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Steve landed a punch on his jaw that sent him staggering backwards. Tony quickly surged forward to retaliate, but Loki used his magic to halt his movement while (Y/N) used hers to stop Steve. “Enough!” They dissolved their magic and with matching looks of contempt, both Steve and Tony turned and stormed away, leaving Loki and (Y/N) to gape at each other in shock.

“Yeah, that was a continuation of what happened on the Quinjet.” They turned and watched Bruce step out of the elevator with a weary expression on his face. “I’ll explain everything to you both, but can we do it in private? The rest of the team’s at each other’s throats and I don’t want all the fighting to accidentally trigger the Big Guy…”

After leading the scientist into (Y/N)’s suite and subtly lighting one of her calming lavender-scented candles, Loki sat beside his girlfriend on the sofa and listened as Bruce talked. “This arms dealer was holding an entire apartment building in Luxembourg hostage, said he’d blow the place up if his demands for more guns weren’t met. Fury sent Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint this morning; the plan was to surround the building and find a way in before going after the guy, but he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and turned an automatic timer on for the explosives. Cap sent the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in to clear the building and Tony said to wait for the agents to give word before ordering Bucky to take the shot, but Steve didn’t listen. Bucky took the shot, got the guy, but the explosives still went off.” Loki and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Bruce continued. “There was a pressure timer hidden in his hand, they call it a dead man’s switch; Tony scanned and saw it at the last second, but Steve was already giving the order to Bucky.” Bruce started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like a civil war; Clint and Nat are taking Tony’s side, they think Steve could’ve waited a little longer, and Sam and Bucky are on Cap’s side.” He snorted in derision. “Thanksgiving dinner should be a blast this year.”

(Y/N) nodded, a saddened expression on her face, but Loki furrowed his brow. “Thanksgiving? You host a dinner of thanks on Midgard?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” She flashed him a brief smile before returning her concerned gaze to Bruce. “Is there anything we can do?”

“You both should probably just stay out of it; they might come around faster if they see that you’re neutral in all this.” The scientist walked to the door. “I’d better go down and talk to Fury, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Once Bruce closed the door behind him, (Y/N) threw herself back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. “How could something like this have even happened? We’ve been such a strong team these past few months and now…”

“They’re both strong-willed men and stubborn in their own right, you know that. Each holds steadfast to their beliefs no matter the consequences; this is a trait of theirs I’ve both admired and admonished in all the time I’ve known them.” Loki admitted. “But Banner is correct, any attempt of ours to help may only worsen the situation for everyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking in (Y/N)’s troubled frown, Loki decided to try distracting her from their fighting teammates, laying down and resting his head in her lap so that he was staring up at her. “So, a feast of thanks sounds…quaint.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed as she gave him a look of amusement and began running her fingers through his hair. “It’s more than that, silly. In America, it’s a day where we give thanks for our lives and the people in them. We sit around a table for dinner and let our loved ones know just what they mean to us, that we cherish and appreciate them, no matter any differences…we might…we might have…” (Y/N) trailed off, pausing a moment before gasping in excitement. “Loki, I think I may have either a brilliant plan or an insane one!”

“I know just what you have in mind, darling. Let’s go!” They both hurried to the living room closet and tugged on their coats and scarves; they had a long, long day of shopping ahead of them.

Although he’d acclimated fairly well to Midgard in the months since his arrival, one of the things Loki still utterly despised about the realm were its ‘grocery stores.’ They were crowded, lit by horrendous fluorescent lights and stocked to the brim with inedible, overpriced food; whenever he’d been asked to accompany one of his fellow Avengers on their shopping trips, he would come up with every excuse under the sun to decline their invitation. But he decided to put aside his displeasure for the benefit of his girlfriend and teammates, resigning himself to pushing the rickety metal shopping cart up and down the aisles as (Y/N) read off her hastily-written list.

Their shopping trip had gone far better than he’d imagined and in no time, they were carrying their bags into the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

“You know, we’re going to need an extra pair of hands to help us with the cooking on Thursday.” (Y/N) pointed out as they stepped into their team’s private elevator. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, as you already know, but I’ve always been able to bake pretty decent pies.”

Loki nodded. “All right, so who did you have in mind to help?”

At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the smiling face of his golden-haired brother. “Ah, there you are! The J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me you had returned from your outing, was it productive?”

“…You could call it that.”

The tone of his girlfriend’s voice prompted Loki to glance over at her; she was looking from Thor to him, her eyebrows raised and a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Finally understanding her words, Loki’s smile morphed into a look of absolute horror. “Oh no, no, no, not him…!”

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

“Wait, you guys cooked all this? Without burning the kitchen down?”

Loki couldn’t help but give Bruce a pained look. “Believe me when I say that it was not for lack of trying, Doctor Banner.”

Since they wanted dinner to be a surprise, they’d prepared each dish in one of the kitchens used by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. organization; unfortunately, in their attempt to be secretive they were forced into cramped quarters with rather primitive kitchen appliances at their disposal. And to add to Loki’s growing list of responsibilities, he was forced to babysit the love of his life and his brother in order to prevent the dishes from being ruined by their absolute lack of culinary skills. More than once, he had to use his magic to protect the food he’d cooked from (Y/N)’s over-zealousness with the spices and at one point, he was forced to quickly talk Thor out of using his lightning to rapidly cook the turkey. Hopefully it’ll all have been worth it, Loki tiredly thought to himself.

As if in-tuned with Loki’s inner monologue, Bruce nervously adjusted the sleeves of his coat and replied, “Well, I hope this works and doesn’t just end up making everything worse.”

“You and I both, Doctor.” His eyes were drawn to the elevator as its doors opened, revealing (Y/N) and a cart filled with the feast they’d cooked, and he hurried over to meet her. “Everything’s going to plan so far, they think that it’s only the seven of us for dinner.”

With the help of Bruce, they went about setting the enormous table. “I just sent Thor to fetch Team Cap, so they should be here any minute.” Once they finished, (Y/N) removed her apron and smoothed out her skirt, her anxious expression softening a fraction as she turned to the two men. “Now we see if our brilliantly-insane plan will work.”

Loki had just enough time to lean down and press a reassuring kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead before the elevator doors once again slid open.

“Mmm, smells good in here!” Tony grinned, walking up to (Y/N) and handing her a bottle of wine. “I had Pepper ship one of my best labels over from Malibu for the occasion.”

Natasha did little to hide her amusement at his words. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? And you,” She turned to shoot Clint a glare. “If you don’t stop fidgeting, Barton, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I can’t help it, this stupid suit’s uncomfortable!” Clint grumbled; once Natasha returned her attention to the others, the archer rolled his eyes and whispered to Loki, “Damn straight jacket. (Y/N) forced you into one too, huh?”

“Yes, I-” The sight of Steve, Sam and Bucky entering the room behind Thor caused Loki’s words to die in his throat and as the others caught sight of them, he surreptitiously summoned his magic into his hands in case a fight broke out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Thor and Bruce exchanging weary looks.

Steve’s face was a mask as he stepped forward. “Stark.”

“Asshat.”

All Hel broke loose; Steve and Tony lunged towards one another, their struggling forms barely held back by Bucky and Clint. A cacophony of shouting quickly filled the room as both sides began arguing with each other, but just as Loki raised his arms to use his magic, (Y/N) calmly stepped forward and walked in between the warring groups. The shouting and struggling instantly stopped as they gawked at (Y/N), but she merely smiled warmly at them as she spoke. “Thank you all for coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, Loki and I are glad you were able to make it. Bruce mentioned that you usually don’t celebrate together, but this is my first Thanksgiving with you all and I wanted to mark the occasion with my new family…all of it.” Her words seemed to have their desired intent, as both Steve and Tony relaxed their stances and the others backed away from them. “Now, we should start eating before everything gets cold!”

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Where there was usually the sounds of deafening chatter and laughter, there was quiet murmuring and stoic looks. Loki watched (Y/N) with equal amounts of admiration and sympathy as she tried her hardest to engage their teammates in conversation with one another and with each failed attempt, he could see a little more of her heart breaking. After learning the difficult truth about her parents and having lived so long without a family, (Y/N) deserved to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with her friends. They all did, really. This has gone on long enough, Loki thought to himself as (Y/N) silently stared down at her plate; after a slight moment of hesitation, Loki got to his feet.

“I’ve done a fair amount of reading about this country’s Day of Thanks, and the custom of expressing what one is thankful for whilst surrounded by their loved ones piqued my interest. So, let’s begin.” Loki swallowed thickly, looking around the table at his teammates’ confused faces before settling on (Y/N)’s. “I’m thankful for you, darling. You came into my life at a time when I believed I could never be deserving of love and you showed me not only was I deserving, but that loving you would make me a better man. You’re the love of my life, and believe me when I say that all our lives have been blessed since meeting you.” Loki and (Y/N) shared a smile and as he turned back to address the others, he felt her take hold of his hand and squeeze. “And I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am also thankful for all of you. When I first joined the Avengers, I was bitter and filled with resentment at the prospect of serving out my sentence on a planet I despised with people I despised even more. But after a short while, once we’d come to understand one another, you accepted me as your teammate and friend. Well, some of you more than others.” His eyes flicked to Tony, who hid his small smile behind his hand, and to Clint, who gave him a small shrug. “I value our kinship above all else and on this Day of Thanks, I implore you all to remember our bonds with one another. Severing those bonds on account of a petty disagreement is something you all will come to regret in the future; take it from me, I have firsthand experience in that particular department.” He and Thor shared a knowing look as he took a seat; although he wasn’t comfortable expressing his emotions so openly, the look of pride in his brother’s eyes had made it worth it.

The table was quiet for several moments, until Steve cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, ah…I’m thankful that after coming out of the ice to an unrecognizable world I was able to find such great friends and teammates in you all.” His azure eyes flicked hesitantly over to Tony. “We may not get along all the time or agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves to become divided.”

Tony’s face remained unchanged throughout Steve’s speech and when he got to his feet, Loki could practically hear the others’ sharp intakes of breath. The billionaire held Steve’s gaze for a heartbeat before offering him his hand over the table with his trademark smirk on his face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ‘Roid Rage.” The two men shook hands and the room almost instantly relaxed; Loki exchanged looks of triumph with his co-conspirators as dinner continued, satisfied that their plan had been successfully implemented.

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

“Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling, though I’m not sure what the others thought of it.”

“Well, they were a little too distracted to hand out compliments on food, wouldn’t you say?”

The pair had decided to spend the night catching up on their reading but instead of utilizing the library, they had made themselves comfortable in Loki’s bed with their books and plenty of blankets. Loki sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out across the mattress and his ankles crossed, and (Y/N) was leaning against his side, her head resting comfortable in the crook of his neck and her free arm holding Loki’s around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence as they read their own books, occasionally permeating the tranquil atmosphere with light conversation.

“Um, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki could feel (Y/N) shifting beside him, so he tore his eyes away from his book and watched as she marked her page and set her book down on the bedside table. Setting his own book aside, Loki adjusted himself so he could see her face better. “What is it?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and played with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before answering. “We’ve been so busy planning Thanksgiving dinner and trying to get the team back together that we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you said the other day.” Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “About wanting to, um, have children. With me.”

“Oh.” Loki felt himself pale; he’d completely forgotten about his slip-up and being reminded of it caused panic to flare in his chest. “I-It was stupid, (Y/N), I just…we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I only meant-”

His explanation was abruptly cut off by (Y/N), who had covered his mouth with her hand and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I always love those rare moments when you’re the one to get flustered; a little line always forms in between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on the spot before moving her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I was surprised by what you said the other day because I didn’t realize that you’ve imagined the same future that I have.” (Y/N) shyly looked down but she reached for his free hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I may not have much experience with relationships, Loki, but I love you with all my heart and if there’s anyone I want to share that wonderful future with someday…well, it’s you.”

A grin slowly formed on Loki’s face; removing one of his hands from hers, he gently took hold of her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Really?”

She nodded, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with happiness. “Really.”

Surging forward, Loki held her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers. (Y/N) made a sound of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back with equal vigor; Loki eventually found himself lying flat on his back while (Y/N) straddled his waist, one hand clutching her hip while the other traveled up and down her spine as they kissed. (Y/N) pulled her lips away from his and just as his throat made a noise of protest, she began kissing along his jawline and down his neck; needless to say, his annoyance quickly morphed to groans of satisfaction. Only when her soft lips brushed against a particularly sensitive patch of skin near his collarbone did Loki lose all restraint; he flipped them over so that (Y/N) was pressed against the mattress and after grabbing her hands and threading their fingers together, he held them over her head and hungrily attacked her eager lips with his own until an unfortunate lack of air forced them to break apart.

“I said I’d like children with you someday, Loki, not today!” (Y/N) exclaimed breathlessly, a dazed sort of smile illuminating her face as she looked up at him.

Loki let out a laugh before kissing her forehead and rolling off to lay on his back beside her; try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face. “Apologies, my love, but you’re entirely irresistible. If I’d known there were kisses like that in store for me, I’d have told you all that ages ago…”

Later that evening, (Y/N) was fast asleep against his chest and the sounds of her quiet snores filled the room as he stretched out on the bed in contentment. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do, Loki thought tiredly, pulling (Y/N) closer and glancing over at the bedside table that hid the engagement ring before sleep finally claimed him.

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

A/N: Wow, that was a lot of fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Fifteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[straykidsreactions]

Reaction To: Their S/O Hugging Them During A Fight

S T R A Y   K I D S   R E A C T I O N   T O : You, their significant other, hugging them during a fight because you don’t want to argue anymore.

A/N: I hope it’s alright that I didn’t make this a gender specific reaction, by the time I realized you’d specified gender I’d already finished writing it😂 Sorry about that darling, and thanks for requesting! ❤️

Genre: a little Angst + Fluffy end

Chan: 

The likelihood that you and Chan actually ever fought was slim, most of your disagreements were minor and Chan wouldn’t be interested in verbal conflict with someone he loved- so getting to a place where a full-blown screaming match had broken out was an unwelcome rarity. It’d been over an hour at this point, and neither of you could really even remember why you’d gotten mad in the first place. It had started at Chan’s production studio when he’d promised to only be another hour, and 3 hours later you were both still there. It started the way fights with Chan always start, a lot of aggravated comments followed by tense silence- but it quickly escalated into raised voices and shouting hurtful things that neither of you really meant. The fight probably never would’ve gotten so out of hand if the two of you had just agreed to take a step back, or get some rest- but as it turned out the clock was striking 1:00am, you were both overtired, and the last straw had just dropped.

“Can’t you just handle not having everything be about you for 2 seconds, Y/N! Because I’m so tired of having to worry about you while I’m working! You’re supposed to be my (girlfriend/boyfriend) not my kid!”

“Are you serious!? I’ve been sitting here for over 4 hours waiting for you even though you know I have to get up early tomorrow and you’ll get pissed if I leave without you, Chan! I’m sick and tired of your career being more important every single time!” 

There were tears welling up in your eyes at this point as paced back and forth across the floor of his studio, silently thankful that the walls were sound-proof. You watched him as he ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and staring dejectedly at the floor. You could feel the tears in your eyes, half out of frustration and half from pure exhaustion- and you realized fighting wasn’t worth it anymore. Sighing, you walked towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and collapsing against him. Chan would be a little surprised at first, not expecting you to hug him after all the things you’d said to each other. After a moment, he’d smile softly to himself, running his hands over your hair and hugging your shoulders firmly against him. You’d just stand there together for a while, holding each other in comfortable silence as you pressed your cheek against his chest, listening to his relaxed heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry I upset you, Jagi...you know I love you. More than anything.”

*sighing softly to yourself as you nodded against his chest*

“...I don’t wanna fight anymore, Channie.”

*smiling to himself as he lifted your chin up to face him*

“Me either...let’s go, I’m done working- and maybe we can find a restaurant still open to grab some late dinner. How’s that sound, Jagi? Hmm?”

Minho: 

There was something exhilarating about a heated argument with Minho- and the reality was the two of you disagreed a lot. It was never on the big things, but when it came to the little things in life you rarely saw eye to eye and it was one of the things that made you such a good match- you balanced each other out. While a minor argument or dispute wasn’t uncommon, a full-fledged screaming match between the two of you was few and far between. Needless to say, however, they were anything but pretty. At this point neither of you could even remember what you were fighting over- somehow your date night at a little local cafe had been cut short, followed by a tense and silent car-ride, followed by escalated voices and offhanded comments that eventually lead to the two of you screaming at the top of your lungs in an otherwise empty dorm. 

“No I don’t even care anymore, Minho! I’m tired and you’re getting on my nerves, ok? Just take me home!”

“Yahh, you always do this, Y/N! Every time we fight you wanna leave and I let you but it’s stupid and childish!”

*you scoffed, running a hand through your hair as you paced back and forth across the living room*

“Oh I’m childish now? You’re the one who couldn’t even finish a simple date because you made yourself mad and wouldn’t talk to me the entire car ride home! We barely get to go out as it is! I’m so sick of your hot n cold attitude, Minho!”

Your raised voice was cracking at this point as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, Minho’s gaze never leaving yours as he clenched his jaw and stared you down. Neither one of you were much for giving in when it came to fights, even when the topic of your argument wasn’t worth the quarrel in the first place. You took a few short breaths, feeling your hands shake with frustration at the realization that more than being angry with your boyfriend, you were angry that you couldn’t spend more time with him. You both had busy schedules and he’d be back to promoting soon- that was always the hardest for the two of you; there was never enough time in the day for you both to follow your dreams and spend time together. Losing a grip on the emotions you’d been keeping at bay, tears began to freely stream down your cheeks as you quickly ran into your boyfriend’s arms. He wasn’t necessarily expecting the reconciling action from you as it was slightly out of character- but as soon as you did and he heard your soft, muffled sniffles every ounce of his frustration towards you evaporated. He’d immediately become overwhelmed with the same feelings of frustration that your dating life was anything but ordinary, as well as an immense feeling of love because somehow you made it all worth it.

“Baby...I’m sorry I was being a dick tonight. That wasn’t ok...I’m just stressed with our comeback and- I know that’s not an excuse...”

*taking a ragged breath in as you shook your head against his chest, pouting at the mere idea of letting go*

“It’s ok, Minnie...I’m sorry too. I was being childish and all those things I just miss-”

“Shh...”

*Minho interjected, rocking the two of you back and forth gently as he caressed your head*

“You don’t have to say anything, baby...I know.”

Changbin: 

In your relationship with Changbin, you could probably count on one hand the amount of real fights you’d had. Of course there were little disagreements from time to time, but in all honesty (despite his dark image) your Binnie is a pretty passive guy. It would take a lot to get him to a point of wanting to actually argue with you, most things he wouldn’t consider worth discussing and would opt for stuffing them down rather than causing a scene by bringing it up to you. On those rare occasions where the anger bubbled to the surface, however, things were anything but pretty. Unlike some of the others, it wouldn’t be difficult to tell when something had set your boyfriend off- there would be very little build up or awkward tension. When you and Changbin argued, it was explosive.

You should have known better, you knew that there were certain things that would set him off quickly, but you’d been just a little too lenient when a JYP trainee a few years your junior had started flirting with you. It seemed harmless to you, and though it was no secret that you were dating Changbin, somehow the memo hadn’t spread to this helpless guy yet. Maybe it was the fact that you’d entertained him for a moment too long, or maybe it was the fact that when you finally shut him down you were a little too polite- but whatever it was when Changbin took note of the situation he was quick to pull you away, his tight grip on your wrist never wavering until you’d made it to a completely different floor of the company building where his private studio was located. At the very least, Changbin was not the kind of guy to start anything in public.

“Y/N what the hell was that? Are you serious right now?!” 

You couldn’t decide what had you more enraged, the fact that he actually thought you were considering flirting with a guy you’d never met, or the fact that he had the audacity to be upset when he hadn’t paid you a single ounce of attention all day. It didn’t take long for voices to raise and accusations to be thrown, all of which had the two of you exhausted and fully drenched into a heated argument that seemed to go on for hours.

“You’re acting crazy, Bin, he was just talking to me and when he asked me out I told him no! What is up for debate here?”

*taking his hands out from his pockets as he gestured towards the door, his dark gaze burning into yours as he fired back*

“This isn’t about what you said, it’s the fact that you can’t just be firm with other guys! Why do you have to be so polite to every guy who approaches you, Jagi, hmm? They haven’t earned your kindness but you give it away like it’s nothing and they’ll get the wrong message!”

*rolling your eyes as you folded your arms in frustration*

“Everyone knows I’m with you I don’t see why-”

“What about when I’m not here, Jagi!” 

*interjecting harshly, hearing the slightest crack in your boyfriend’s voice as his stance wavered, suddenly noticing the hurt behind his angry eyes*

“What about when I’m on tour...when I can’t be here by your side, baby...you don’t think it drives me insane thinking about leaving you alone?”

Silence fell over the small room for a moment as your walls came crashing down, realizing that his anger really only stemmed from a deep-rooted fear of losing you. In that moment, there was nothing left to say, and all you really wanted was to hold him.

*pulling him into your arms as his body stiffened in shock, glancing at you before turning away at the surprise change in behavior*

“I...I don’t want a pity hug, Y/N...”

*shaking your head as you squeezed your arms around his torso even tighter*

“it isn’t a pity hug, Binnie...it’s an ‘I love you and I’m sorry’ hug. I’m not going anywhere...I promise.”

*hearing him sigh deeply, his body finally relaxing as he hugged you back, pulling you close against his chest*

“You better not.”

Hyunjin: 

Both you and Hyunjin had a tendency to be a bit over-dramatic at times, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t get annoyed at the other when it had to do with something trivial. Usually it was something you could laugh at and brush off easily- but for whatever reason you weren’t laughing that evening when Hyunjin made a big deal of the outfit you’d put on to go out and grab food. Arguments between the two of you were rare, mostly because he’s such a non-confrontational person, so any off-handed comments he made were never intended to start arguments or upset you. Most of the time instances like this were just simple miscommunications where Hyunjin would quickly apologize, so when he made a comment about how you seemed under-dressed in your hoodie and joggers, you’d fully expected him to clarify that he meant no offense by his snide little remark. When he didn’t back down, however, you’d feel a little attacked.

“What do you mean under dressed? We’re just going to pick up take out...am I supposed to put on a red carpet look to pick up dinner?”

“Aishh, don’t be so dramatic, I’m just saying there might be photographers around and I don’t know if that’s how you wanna look when you end up all over the internet...”

*laughing sarcastically as you shook your head, grabbing your wallet in frustration as you gave your boyfriend a wary look*

“Is this about how I’ll feel, or is this about you not wanting to be seen with someone like me?”

That was all you had to say for an hour long argument to quickly ensue, your takeout order long-since expiring as the two of you spat back and forth, neither of you really accustomed to the environment of arguing with one another but both of you unwilling to call it quits. 

“Y/N you know that isn’t what I meant why do you think I’d care about something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re this big super star who’s acting like suddenly you don’t wanna be seen with me unless I’m dressed to the 9′s- why’d you even bring something like that up when you know it’ll make me insecure!”

*taking off his ball cap momentarily to run a hand through his hair in frustration*

“Why are you acting like it’s such a bad thing to care about our image! It’s like you’re just asking for people to talk shit online! What don’t you get about me being worried, maybe you don’t see the mean comments but I do!”

It wasn’t until you looked up to see his watery eyes that you realized Hyunjin was on the verge of breaking, his soft soul exhausted from arguing and worried to death that someone might say something negative about the two of you online. You’d only ever focused on the flood of positive comments, you’d never stopped to think that maybe the few negative ones would strike a nerve with your boyfriend. 

“Jinnie...”

*murmuring under your breath as you fell into his arms, his warm embrace instinctively taking you in as you breathed in the warm smell of his cologne* 

“I’m sorry it’s been giving you a hard time, I didn’t know. You should’ve told me...” 

*feeling your boyfriend shake his head as he leaned his chin against your shoulder, breathing deeply as he pulled you against him*

“I didn’t want to worry you, baby...it’s stupid anyway, I’m sorry I blew up at you for something like that...forgive me?”

Jisung: 

Arguments between you and Jisung never really started as arguments, most of the time they were playful instances of teasing that had just been taken too far. He’d never intentionally meant to aggravate you, but that being said Han Jisung is a confrontational person and if an argument starts brewing between the two of you he isn’t the one to quickly diffuse the situation.

It had started harmlessly enough, the two of you were up late working on song lyrics for his upcoming album. Most of the time you helped him edit things that he’d written, but you wanted to take a stab at writing yourself and had begun to scribble down a few rough drafts on some note paper. Maybe it was the fact that it was late and you were both tired, mixed with the fact that you were still a bit self-conscious that your writing might not be good enough for your lyricist boyfriend, but when Jisung playfully snatched the notes you’d been working on to read something snapped in you. 

“Yahh, I wasn’t finished with those!” 

*jisung laughing as he waved the notes in your face, pulling them away playfully before you could grab them, not picking up on the frustration laced in your voice*

“Aww, did you write some lyrics of your own baby? Let me see, wahh- are they about me?”

*standing up from your seat as you feebly reached out to take your notes back, growing beyond frustrated when for the second time your boyfriend failed to realize that this was actually sensitive to you*

“Jisung please-”

“No let me read them! Maybe you’re the next big JYP producer, hmm?”

The teasing in his voice had no intention of actually hurting your feelings, but more than anything the fact that he couldn’t read the discomfort apparent on your face was the thing that set you off.

*your voice raising slightly in aggravation*

“Why don’t you ever listen to me!?”

The accusation was enough to get on Jisung’s nerves, and it wouldn’t take long for him to fire back. What had started as something playful had quickly devolved into a much larger argument. Most of it was baseless but you were both tired and feeling attacked by the other so, as most arguments of this sort do, it dragged on until both of you were tired and frustrated.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you, Y/N, I don’t know why you always expect to be so harsh towards you I only ever wanna support you...”

*sighing as you looked at the notes of lyrics still in his hands*

“I just wanted you to respect my boundaries...maybe it’s easy for you to share stuff you write with other people but I’m not like that, Bunny.”

You were both silent for a moment before you felt exhaustion wash over you, and all the frustration you felt at the situation you’d now directed towards yourself for being so childish about something minor. Just as you were about to extend your arms to hug your boyfriend, however, you’d feel him pull you into a hug of his own. Jisung wasn’t the kind of guy to diffuse situations quickly or smoothly, but he’d always recognize when he was in the wrong and when things had gone too far. It may have been more difficult had it been with anyone else, but there was something about you that made Jisung putty in your hands- you were someone he never ever wanted to hurt.

*breathing in the smell of his freshly cleaned clothes and body wash as you leaned into his embrace*

“I’m sorry...”

*stroking your hair as he pressed a small kiss to your temple*

“I’m sorry too, baby. I should’ve been more careful...”

*pulling away from the hug momentarily as he glanced at the note paper still in his hand, smiling slightly behind his face mask as he held it up, causing you to smile in return*

“Still want this back, jagi?”

Felix: 

Neither you nor Felix were a fan of arguments, most of the time the two of you were pretty good about diffusing things before they got out of hand because you were both a bit sensitive when it came to confronting one another. It would take a lot for him to actually want to confront you about something, but that night in the dance studio just happened to be one of those times. 

You hadn’t intentionally spent more time with Jeongin than him, you were just trying to be a good friend to the youngest member who’d asked you to help with him with some of the more difficult choreography by filming him and going over the spots he’d missed. You hadn’t wanted to distract your boyfriend, who seemed to be in his own world practicing, so you’d opted for helping your friend. You had no idea that that alone was enough to distract Felix’s attention for the rest of the night, his eyes darting over to the two of you frequently. It wasn’t that he thought anything was actually going on, he knew you were friends with his members and a part of him liked that they considered you close enough to ask for your help during practice. He was mostly irked by the fact that you’d come with him, yet all your attention seemed to be so easily moved to someone else. While he wasn’t one to get overly dramatic when it came to issues of jealousy, Felix is definitely the kind of guy who likes showing you off- so it stung a little when you weren’t giving the attention he was hoping for. He wouldn’t intend to bring it up right then and there, but when you noticed him being uncharacteristically quiet and Jeongin made an off-handed comment he’d immediately be set off. 

“Hyung, is everything ok? You seem so quiet tonight!”

*jeongin laughing as he took a break from practicing, grabbing his water bottle and leaving the studio momentarily before Felix could had a chance to say something back*

“Y/N...come here please...”

*his low voice laced with frustration as you innocently walked over to him, unsure as to what had him so tense*

“Is everything ok, babe?”

*folding his arms as he stared back at you, his frustration at you in particular becoming more apparent with his body gestures*

“Am I supposed to be? My (girlfriend//boyfriend) hasn’t even looked at me all night, I thought you came here to watch me practice?”

His voice was quiet, he wasn’t one to get loud during a serious conversation unnecessarily (despite his usual carefree and vocal personality), especially when he knew another member could be in ear shot. Sometimes that’s what made arguments with him the scariest, his whole demeanor would shift. You were quick to explain that you’d only been helping a friend, but it was too late- you’d both become frustrated with the other and it quickly devolved into an argument. 

*both keeping your voices low on the off chance that Jeongin would walk back in*

“It isn’t that hard to just do what you say you’re gonna do, Y/N- I get that he’s your friend but I don’t know why everyone has to be more important than me...”

*sighing as you watched your boyfriend’s serious face crack slightly, hearing the creak of the studio door open as Jeongin walked back in and headed towards the opposite end of the room to resume practice*

Felix grew quiet, lowering his head as he fully expected you to walk away and go back to helping your friend. His eyes widened in shock when, much to his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into a loving embrace. All the frustrations he’d been feeling immediately dissipated as Jeongin let out a teasing groan at the image of you and your boyfriend displaying affection, causing you both to laugh.

“Wh-what was that for, Y/N?” 

*smiling wide as his cheeks tinged red*

“I’m just sorry...and, I love you.”

Seungmin: 

To say that arguments between the two of you were rare would be an understatement. In fact, among all the members Seungmin would easily be the least interested in arguing with his significant other, he just rarely felt the need to bring something up in a confrontation way. In fact, if something did rise to the surface between the two of you, there wouldn’t be much dialogue at all. Neither of you were a fan of screaming matches or saying hurtful words unnecessarily, so more than anything things would just become tense and silent between the two of you.

In all honesty you couldn’t even remember what had started the mutual silent treatment to be exact, but you knew that Seungmin had been very dismissive of your questions about the Mnet performance on the car ride home and that had frustrated you. In the same vein, he’d become aggravated because he’d really only wanted some peace and quiet. Maybe he should have been more understanding of your curiosity, and maybe you should have been more understanding of his exhaustion, but either way it had quickly devolved into both of you growing angry with the other. When you finally got back to the apartment, you were quick to leave the common area and sit down in another room all together, folding you arms in frustration at your boyfriend’s behavior. When he entered the room behind you, knocking gently against the already open door frame, you glanced up, nodding halfheartedly as he walked in.

“Are we gonna talk about this or are you just gonna stay in here and be upset with me?”

*his voice calm despite clearly still being frustrated*

“I just wanted to ask about the performance...you never tell me about it and I’m just trying to show interest in your job, y’know...you always treat me like I’m stupid for not knowing stuff about the music industry...”

The last part came out as barely above a whisper.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, jagiya, I was just tired...I didn’t mean to make you feel like your questions weren’t important...”

He leaned down slightly until he was at your eye level, watching as your face slowly shifted from one of anger and hurt to one of loneliness. You’d always made a point to ask so many questions because it made you feel sloer to him and his work, but you’d immediately felt bad when you realized that maybe it was exhausting him unnecessarily. In a heartbeat the entire dispute felt pointless, and you pulled at the collar of your boyfriend’s button up as he collapsed against you into a warm hug. He let out a soft chuckle, reciprocating your embrace.

“I’ll be more understanding in the future, Minnie...I promise.”

*hushing you softly as he held you against him*

“It’s ok, Y/N...I should’ve never made you feel that way, Minnie’s sorry.”

Jeongin: 

Arguments between you and Jeongin weren’t entirely unheard of, you both tried your best not to let little things upset you but occasionally something would come up that left you both feeling dejected and annoyed. Your boyfriend was a master of trying to find the positives even in difficult and frustrating situations, it was just his way of handling hard situations. Most of the time you loved this about him, but it could become frustrating at times when you were trying to vent about something difficult going on in your life and he was only trying to find the positives. He hadn’t meant to act as though he were over-looking your struggles, he was only trying to give you positive feedback, but in the moment it had felt a little impersonal and disrespectful towards your situation. 

“Jeongin please just let me talk, ok?”

*you blurted out, slightly louder than you’d intended*

“I am letting you talk, what’re you talking about? I’m on your side, Y/N.”

It wasn’t the traditional sense of an argument, there was no yelling matches or insults fired back and forth, it was more of a frustrated conversation at best. Never the less, you were upset at his approach to handling your problems, and he was upset that you’d chosen to take out your frustrations on him. After 15 minutes or so of tirelessly going back and forth at what was quickly becoming a repetitive and somewhat unimportant arguing point- you took a step back, falling silent.

“What’d I do now, Y/N...did I say something wrong again?”

*shaking your head softly*

“You know I wasn’t trying to talk over you...or make you feel like what you were saying wasn’t important...”

*you nodded in response, growing tired of arguing as your boyfriend let out an aggravated sigh*

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say-”

Before he could say anything else, you collapsed your head against his shoulder and slid your arms around his torso, pulling him into a warm hug. His body stiffened for a moment before relaxing against your affectionate gesture, smiling brightly as the Jeongin you knew and love resurfaced.

“Y-you don’t have to hug me if you’re still mad at me, Y/N, really-”

“Shhh, I don’t wanna argue anymore, Jeonginnie...please.”

*nodding as he pulled you against him even closer, resting his head on top of yours*

“I love you, Jagi.”