#also I wrote a whole nightmare for him to have during the next session and it's SO MUCH FUN.

[morrigan-sims]

ahhh I hate framing things. Why is it so harddd. I hate this version but I have no idea what else to do. (Suggestions are welcome, though no guarantee I'll land on any of them. The only rule is that since this is a banner for a campaign chapter called "ship in a bottle" you have to be able to tell the ship is in the bottle. So exterior of the bottle shots.)

This is supposed to be a chapter banner, so I am gonna put text over at least one version of it, kind of like I did with the cropped Sea Snake render.

[oh-ranpo]

stay, don’t go.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader warnings: angsty angst an: I don’t know, I just wrote it lmao word count: 2.4k+

“And if he was wrong about you, he was wrong about me!”

You kept hearing those words replaying over and over in your head. You knew that he had been upset about Sam giving up the shield, but you were surprised at how you hadn’t seen these particular emotions coming. There were a lot of things that Bucky worried about, but this burden of a thought broke your heart even more than usual. It was the most transparent he had been in months, and you hadn’t even been the one he was opening up to. Not that it mattered all that much, but now, you were struggling to find a way to help with the newly re-opened wound.

After the therapy session with Sam, Bucky had withdrawn into himself even more. Even though you had been waiting right outside the door, it was almost as if he didn’t see you at all when he walked through it. You had reached for his hand, and he had let you take his, but he didn’t say a word to you. 

He’s had a rough day, you had told yourself. Getting arrested on top of everything else he was dealing with had to be a lot. He just needed some time to process it all. 

Only, now, it was five hours later and he still hadn’t said a thing. You managed to get some hums in response to your prompting, and a shrug here and there, but no actual words fell from his lips. The anger from earlier in the day had dissipated, and now his shoulders drooped as he seemed to be carrying the world on his shoulders. Not that this was anything new to you either. It was a look you had long grown used to, but after hearing his outburst at therapy, you had a better idea than usual as to what was causing his pain this time.

Bucky had taken a spot in one of the chairs in the corner of your shared hotel room, and his blue eyes were fixed on the wall in front of him as he seemed to be attempting to stare a hole through it. You could practically hear the gears in his head turning, and you were sure that if you could read his thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to handle the emotional turmoil that lay inside. When you couldn’t get him to talk, you decided to order some food - something that you knew he liked - and then sat down in the chair next to him. 

“Food should be here soon,” you told him, as if he couldn’t hear you placing the delivery order just five minutes prior from the other side of the room. This time, Bucky didn’t even bother acknowledging what you had said as his hand came up to rest under his chin. He was still staring at the same spot on the wall, and his eyes were squinting slightly as he seemed to be deep in thought.

You sighed as you glanced down at your watch and saw that it was getting later in the evening, and you wondered what Sam was up to. The three of you had parted ways after the police station, and Sam had barely said anything to you or Bucky when you left. You could make out some of their conversation through the door during therapy, but really the only part you had heard clearly were Bucky’s words. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the ‘he’ Bucky had been referring to was Steve. This was what his whole trip had been about in the first place.

You knew that you couldn’t go the whole night without addressing the elephant in the room, but you also knew how Bucky was when it came to opening up. Even with you. You knew that, besides Sam, you were one of the only people that he trusted since Steve passed away, and you didn’t take that lightly. You really only pressed when you knew that it would be good for him to talk about something, and this was one of those times.

“Bucky?” You started again, using his name this time in an attempt to draw his attention away from the wall. He didn’t look over at you at first, but slowly, as you waited patiently, they started to trail over in your direction. When his eyes finally met yours, you gave him a small, sad smile as you leaned against the arm of the chair closest to him. “About what you said to Sam today…” 

You didn’t get a chance to finish your thought before Bucky was swiftly moving out of his seat. The movement caught you by surprise, as he had seemed so relaxed - well, as relaxed as he could be given the situation - but now he was running his hands through his hair as he started pacing in circles.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he mumbled, as his hand ran over his face, and his other gloved hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Slowly, you stood up from your own chair and made your way over to him, your hand reaching out for the sleeve of his jacket before he harshly pulled it out of your grasp. 

His entire reaction was confusing you because usually, he just shut down. He didn’t get this visibly worked up, he just shut down and refused to give you any emotion or feedback on how he was feeling. Now, you could tell that he was upset, and from the look on his face, he knew that his expression and actions were giving him away.

“But you know you should,” you continued as you tried to reach for him again, this time more slowly. “Let me be there for you, Buck.” The second part of your statement came out at nearly a whisper, but it had been loud enough he had heard you and he started shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t have to. I’m- I’m fine. I just need to go-“ Now, he had started moving towards the hotel door, and you felt your heart start to race in your chest. He was trying to leave.

“Wait, no, don’t go!” You cried, as you rushed to stop him, and Bucky’s hand hesitated over the doorknob. “Please. Stay. Talk to me.” You hated how broken your words sounded, but after everything that had taken place over the last few months, you couldn’t bear the thought of him walking out of that door and leaving you alone. Hesitantly, Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you, and you could see that same, decades-old pain swimming in his light blue irises.

“You’d be better off if I did. I’m doing nothing for you here.” Earlier, when you thought the comment about Steve was the most painful thing you had heard him say, this was a close second. You shook your head firmly as you took another step closer to him, and instead of reaching for the door knob fully, Bucky allowed his hand to fall back down to his side.

“No, Bucky, I wouldn’t be better off. I lived five years without you. Five years of never knowing if you were going to come back. I’ve known a life without you, and that is something I never want to have to experience again.”

Bucky’s shoulders deflated at your words, and you could see a flash of something in his expression that gave you a sliver of hope. You knew how he felt about you, and you knew that, deep down, he was well aware of how you felt about him. That was a secret you never tried to keep from him, and the one thing he never tried to hide from you either. 

After he didn’t move any closer to the door, and he didn’t respond to your words either, you slowly reached out for him once more, but this time, he didn’t pull away. You took ahold of his gloved hand and moved closer to him. The pain and conflict was still present in his expression, but as you lifted your other hand to cup his cheek, you hoped that maybe you would be able to find a way to bring him some comfort.

“Come sit back down with me, please,” you whispered, and for a moment, he didn’t move. You knew that if he really wanted to leave, you would have to let him, but your heart started to crack at the mere thought. Thankfully, after another heavy moment of silence, Bucky nodded and allowed you to lead him back to the end of the bed. You didn’t drop his hand, and when the two of you sat down next to one another, you sat close enough so that your leg was pressed up against his. 

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but I heard what you said to Sam today. About Steve,” you murmured, your gaze falling to where your hands were entwined and resting on his thigh. “And Bucky, you know that isn’t true, right? Steve… he thought the world of you. He would have, and did, do anything for you. He knew you, Buck, just as I do, and he saw the heart that you have and knew that you were worth every bit of it.”

When you looked up, you could see the tears swimming in his eyes as he tried to hold them back. Steve had always been a sensitive subject, and you knew that, but you also knew that what you said was true. You had known Steve, and you had seen and heard the way he felt about his best friend. Before he was Captain America, Bucky had always been there for him, and after he was Captain America, he was there to return the favor without hesitation. He never held Bucky’s Hydra days against him because he knew, just as you did, that he had no control over that. He was a victim; a pawn in a much bigger game than he ever could have won on his own. He was still paying for it, even after all this time. You just hoped that someday he’d find a way to forgive himself.

“I just don’t know sometimes,” Bucky managed to choke out after another heavy silence. “I mean, I’m trying, but the nightmares and the constant reminders of what I did…” His voice trailed off as he fixed his eyes on the window across the room in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. You knew that he hated crying in front of anyone, despite you having told him numerous times that he didn’t have to hide that part of himself from you.

“That wasn’t you, at least, not really,” you replied. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes, White Wolf.” This time you nudged him in the shoulder with your own and he cracked half a smile as his eyes flickered back over to you. “The Winter Soldier was not you. And before you try to argue with me, I’ve seen him and I’ve seen you, and I can tell you that he is nowhere near the same guy as the one that’s sitting right here next to me.”

Bucky cringed at the reminder that you had been forced to bear witness to his time as The Winter Soldier when Zemo had activated him a few years before the blip. He had spent months apologizing, despite not having done anything to you, and you cursed yourself for bringing it up again. 

“I mean, the metal arm is the only thing you guys have in common, and on the Bucky I know… it’s actually kind of sexy.” You added the last part lightly, and when Bucky looked over at you again, you waggled your eyebrows playfully. He just shook his head as the corners of his lips turned up just a bit, before his gaze fell to his lap. The hand you were holding now was the metal one, and you followed his gaze as you released your hold on it before slowly slipping his glove off. He flexed the metal appendages as soon as the glove was gone, and you reached for it as your fingers traced over the cool metal.

“It’s a curse,” he mumbled, his eyes still locked on where it was resting in his lap. “I mean, Shuri was nice enough to make it better than the old one but…” 

You shook your head as you grabbed it before lifting it to your lips and pressing a small kiss to the back of it.

“It’s not a curse, it’s a part of you. And because of that, I love it. Just like I love you.”

Bucky inhaled sharply at those three little words, even though you had been saying them practically non-stop since he had returned. You had said it before he was gone too, but you knew, back then, that he didn’t believe it. 

“I do love you, Bucky. So please… don’t leave.” 

For a moment, you could tell that Bucky had almost completely forgotten about how he had been about to walk out. It was a gift that you possessed that he had never truly understood. Even though you were talking about his problems, it didn’t feel nearly as bad as it did when he talked about his problems with anyone else. Not that he opened up enough to anyone else to really do much good. 

“I couldn’t leave,” he murmured as your eyes lifted to meet his. “You’re the only one that makes me feel… well, anything.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as that was practically him saying he loved you too, and you couldn’t help but smile. 

“And thank you,” he continued. “For what you said.” You nodded in response as you leaned against his shoulder, his metal hand falling to your thigh as you wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I’m always here for you to talk to, you know that? Though, you do need to talk to Sam too. He’s going through a hard time just like you are, and he needs his friends to be there with him too.” 

Slowly, Bucky nodded, but before either of you could continue, there was a knock on the hotel room door, and you were reminded of the take-out order that you had placed earlier.

“You hungry?” You asked with another smile as you stood up from the end of the bed and moved towards the door.

“I could eat,” you heard him respond, and you chuckled as you pulled open the door to grab your food. 

Things were far from perfect, but every day the two of you took baby steps towards healing together. And really, you couldn’t ask for much more than that. 

[shyrose57]

2nd part.

Other: Both groups understand they have different ways of showing affection and closeness. Though Charles does hesitantly ask Jackie if Ran ever shows affection, to which Jackie answers that he does he just isn't a very physical person. 

After Ran first attacks and injuries Ranbob, and once the groups get the two separate, they sit down and talk. The Gladiators go first, saying they've never seen Ran that aggressive and angry before and ask what Ranbob could've done. To which the Fishermen tell them (to an extent. Somethings they leave out as its best for Ranbob to tell them) and after sharing, ask what Ran's relationship with Ranbob was. Where Watson says Ran said before he had a brother, and they then connect the pieces. So in summary, the Gladiators know about Ranbob being controlled by Dream, what Ranbob as done, how it affected him, and what the Fishermen have done to help him out and the progress Ranbob has made. While the Fishermen know that Ran has said he had a brother (Ranbob said it too), Ran having to survive on his own for years, And Ran having nightmare's but don't know what they are about. 

The Gladiators are skeptical of Ranbobs story, but after reading a bit of a dairy Ranbob recorded the experience in when able to, and both picture and multiple eye-witness accounts they eventually believe him. 

He ran from the hunters for around 4 years, he also lived alone and learned to survive during his time, while being constantly on the move. Multiple times the brothers have said something concerning, either jokingly or very casually, but both ways the brothers groups have responded with utmost concern and basically interrogating them until they find out the events behind what they said. Where they then either leave it be, or there's more talking, comforting, and maybe even cuddle piles. 

It happens once during the trip, when Ranbob just isnt having a good day at all, when he relapses he immediately tells the Fishermen (as he has grown to do), who then go to comfort him and do a sort of therapy. Ran immediately uses the relapse as evidence that he shouldn't be trusted and that he is still the same person he was before. While Watson, ignoring him, goes to see if he can do anything to help, while Grievous and Jackie try to lead Ran away to cause less stress for Ranbob. 

It is confusing at first for them, and when their finally able to, they (both groups) ask eachother what different instincts their enderman friend has. And after exchanging it they just kinda leave it be then and accept it. Sometimes Cletus will laugh when he just randomly sees Ran carrying someone around and mocks them, but Ran tends to growl at him when he mocks the person he's carrying, so he doesn't mock em often. 

He was only able to eat crackers, nuts and seeds, and dried out vegetables. So when he first goes to the Fishermen's house he's only able to keep down stuff like soup and again crackers. Though he's able to slowly work his way up to eating meat, which then he's able to keep most things down. 

The gladiators are overwhelmingly happy about no longer following such a strict schedule and can spend their time doing whatever they want. The fishermen are at first a bit hesitant at adventuring, seeing as they never really adventured outside of their home to much before, but are still very excited to see new places and get new items. Cuddle piles are sometimes shared amongst the groups, but strictly when neither of the brothers are nearby, other habits like telling bed time stories and sharing supplies and food are shared amongst the groups. While a sort of therapy sessions type habit are only in the fishermen group. And making and testing weapons are only in the gladiator group. For nicknames, Ran- Tall man/Tall bastard, Jackie- Jack, Shorty(teasingly/jokingly), Watson- Dad, Grievous- Ugly, John, Gri, Ranbob- Bobby, Benjamin- Benny, Ben, Charles- (Just Charles), Cletus- Wildfire, Little shit (Isaac only calls him that, Benjamin doesn't like it though), Isaac- Saac (pronounced as Isaac without the I, or just Zack).

The fishermen live a calmer, more quite life. Where the most active they've gotten is going to Mizu and getting Ranbob and a few attempted robbing. While the gladiators live a very active and fighting filled life, with only a few breaks where they can do whatever they want too. The fishermen are more accepting of outsiders and willing to give them a chance in their group. While the gladiators, you need to prove you can earn a place and are more tight in their group (Which is partly why it means so much to Ran and shocks him when his haunting welcomes Ranbobs group into their group). The fishermen are more freewilled, not having to follow a schedule. While the gladiators do follow a schedule and typically don't get much freewill.

They originally wanted to live in Mizu. But after the discovery of the Dream Mask Benjamin stated that it was far too dangerous to stay, much less live there. So they instead just went and looted the area then left 

As of now I do not plan to add anymore characters. Maybe they'll meet some while traveling but im not positive yet, if they do meet someone later on though it'll probably be either Wilburs decendent, or if I include other Tales I'll include them probably. 

It is very hard to convince Ran for a good while that what happened to Ranbob was the truth, but when he does finally accept it he's horrified. He feels incredibly guilty about leaving his brother and doing nothing during this whole time other than making it harder for him to recover. And immediately does what he can to make it up and help him out. And to the relief of the others, the brothers start to grow closer again, although there's still some problems. It took multiple tales of Mizu and Dream from all around the world, some very old records about how manipulative Dream was and how it seemed he had supernatural powers, and even finding Ranbobs journal and deciding to read it for safety reasons (where its recorded Ranbobs deteriorating mental state and all of the events where Dream came in, and even Dream wrote in it sometimes, comparing it to Ranboos Memory Book.)

Personalities (More may be added later): Ran- Secretive, protective, quite, joking when gotten close too, patient, serious mostly. Watson- Kind, very approachable, the father figure, logical, has a very comforting presence. Jackie- Playful, joking, mean at times, teasing, loud, energetic. Grievous- Very kind, energetic at times, quite, prankster, hard to trust someone. Ranbob- Quite, shy, well-meaning, clumsy, hesitant in things, very eager to please someone. Benjamin- Truthworthy, comforting presence, kind, approachable. Cletus- Chaotic, mean at times, prankster, loud, confident, energetic. Isaac- Leader figure, kind, logical, playful. Charles- Quite, shy, anxious, smart, logical. And idk if you want him too but Porkius- Confident, arrogant, hard headed/stubborn, hard to talk with, but extremely willing to make changes and call off events if serious injury to anyone is threatened. 

Sorry if some answers are dull, I had trouble coming up with answers and wording some of them. But as a bonus I thought of something that could happen while traveling (while they've been traveling for almost 5 months now). Maybe a thunderstorm is coming in and the group is trying to find shelter and they find it mostly in time, but the brothers start to really get into a verbal fight during the searching and so start to lag behind. And just as it starts to storm more Ran screams and yells "YOUR NOTHING MORE THAN AN MURDER! NOTHING YOU EVER DO WILL MAKE UP FOR ALL YOU'VE DONE!"(or something similar) Which just really breaks Ranbob, and the two stand across from eachother in the rain, before Ranbob chokes out a heartbroken agreement and runs off. Ran almost going to chase after him, but deciding not too, and going to meet up with the group.  Also Ranbob having a nightmare about when he first saw Ran again and is terrified in the nightmare, as no one is there to actually stop Ran this time (this happens before the thunderstorm part). So he does actually begin to kill him, and during the dream he keeps seeing glimpses of he and Ran as kids, being so close and laughing and everything. Then just before he wakes up he sees a younger, tween Ran directly next to the Ran killing him, and the Vision Ran's face is frozen in a scream of terror and heartbroken look in his eyes, and his eyes are filled to the brim of tears (which is the exact moment a Ranbob controlled by Dream turns the blade on Ran suddenly). Which just completely breaks Ranbobs heart, and when he wakes up, with tears frozen on his face, he can't look at Ran for days without seeing the terrified face of his younger brother. 

1: So they’re pretty chill about it. Alright. 

2: Fairly skeptical, but still willing to help out, and eventually coming to agree. Interesting. Ranbob has a diary? From before? That must be quite the interesting read. How much did young Ranbob understand was going on? How did he feel about it? Just how much does his diary show of his mental decline? Does he still have it? Were the Gladiators supposed to be reading it, or is it more of a ‘I found this, let’s see what’s inside’ thing? And I know the eye-witness accounts are probably the fishermen, but what are the pictures? Of Ranbob before Dream, back in Mizu? Of Ranbob when the fishermen found him?

3: Casually drops trauma on them, huh? What kind of things have been said? How much of it do these two traumatized gremlins think is the norm? Does Ran have any particular enemies with the hunters? Was it hard for him to settle in one place again?

4: What do these relapse consist of, exactly? Ranbob becoming aggressive? Trying to run? Can’t imagine Ran’s too happy Watson ignored him about it. What was the aftermath of this event? Does Ran know what a relapse means, or does he just overhear and assume?

5: So Ran totes people around, and Cletus occasionally makes fun of them. How long before someone points out that Ranbob, as you put it, follows them around like a lost puppy, in retaliation? 

6: The more I hear about Ranbob, the more I kind of want to wrap him in a warm blanket, give him cocoa, and go threaten Dream with bodily harm. That kind of food isn’t exactly great nourishment. If that’s the kind of thing he was eating, and only once every three days, I’m not shocked the Fishermen managed to force him into a room. Or that his house kept falling on him. Poor guy must be a malnourished noodle-stick. Honestly, he sounds light enough Cletus could probably carry him around. Or a breeze could. Hopefully he gets a little more weight on him, he needs it. 

7: Sounds like the first few days of the trip are probably pretty chaotic, with everyone adjusting. But they sound like they’re having fun, so that’s good. What kind of things are the two brothers doing to be gone long enough for their groups to be able to cuddle pile for a bit? Gathering supplies? Do they just know, and do their own thing for a bit so their hauntings can chill together? And Bobby, huh? Sounds an awful lot like what Ran used to call Ranbob. Who exactly revived the nickname, and what was both Ranbob’s reaction to it being brought back, and Ran’s reactions to hearing it again? 

8: The clash between lifestyles seems to be a pretty big one. The gladiators are a bit more willing to jump into things, and the fishermen are generally more open. Seems like they’ll contrast nicely once things settle down. So it’s kind of a big deal for the gladiators to just welcome the fishermen? You said they have to prove themselves. Do the fishermen ever end up doing something like that, or are they just an exception? Or is it that what they’ve already done proved themselves? 

9: They just loot the place, huh? Do they keep what they find or sell it? What’s Ranbob’s feelings about that?

10: A Wilbur descendant? Interesting. 

11: Oof. Well, at least they’re figuring it out. So there’s records about Dream and such? Do they just happen to find them, or are they led there? Who wrote those records? Does Ranbob notice when they find them, find some himself, or is that part of the trip he doesn’t know about? And Dream wrote in Ranbob’s journal too? Yikes. That must have been terrifying for Ranbob to experience. He compared it to Ranboo’s memory book, huh? Did that mean Ranbob figured out that something similar was happening to his ancestor? If so, how did he feel about it? And how does Ran feel about Dream’s part in all this? What does he do once he finally accepts it? Hug Ranbob? Apologize? Try to murder Dream?

12: Sounds like quite interesting group there. Charles and Ranbob both being shy sounds adorable honestly. Porkius sounds like he knows what he’s doing, and does it well.

13: They don’t seem particularly dull to me. But thank you for the heart-crushing scene, I’ll cherish it forever. Do the fishermen chase after Ranbob? How do the gladiators feel about that whole thing? Does Ran feel a bit guilty about it?

[willadisastercry]

tw: voltron and anxiety

my brain has just accepted it as fact that Lance was most likely head hostage negotiator for his friends’ sanity while in space and let me tell you why

first order of business: i must establish that Lance is cannocially a goofball. this is factual and cannon. he is confident and charming and assertive and always the first to make a stupid joke just to put everyone at ease or piss them off because he loves them and that’s his thing. he wants to annoy the shit out of them and make them laugh not only because they need it but because he does too.

while i’ve seen a lot of posts suggesting Lance could have ADHD (and while i pretty much agree in that deduction and what i suggest in this post goes hand in hand with this disorder in particular, it requires a more thorough explanation that i as someone with adhd feel like they can provide a solid reasoning behind this theory) i think it can more simply be put as a headcannon that he has general anxiety or a generalized anxiety disorder that manifests in his self worth/esteem making him require more validation, affection, assurance despite his own portrayal of confidence and security (of which is a coping mechanism meshed with pre-existing personality traits). this is done through humor and affection for others, i. e. why he’s the “class clown” of which is a common example used for this type of behavior.

i recognize that voltron is a team of TEENAGERS at war in and entirely new enviornment with none of their usual comforts who have lots of hormones and logical fears that they have to navigate all while tasked with an immense responsibility. that’s stressful in and of itself. but this leads my brain to come to the obvious conclusion that any time a member of voltron exhibited anxiety, so like showed symptoms that they were about to have a panic attack, were stuck in a pattern of irrational thinking, showed harmful coping behaviors related to irrational fear, etc. Lance would sus it out and be at their side immediately to talk them down. no funny business. no jokes until he was sure they were feeling better. his cockiness would disappear and instead he’d be calm, he was always so composed, so comforting. he wouldn’t leave their side until it passed. he’d check on them throughout the day to make sure they hadn’t gotten worked up again. he’d even probably recognized their individual triggers and symptoms and became the only one who could effectively talk them down. every single one. it didn’t matter if they were in the middle of a mission. if something happened to trigger them he would drop whatever he was doing to go to their aid. he had been dealing with this his whole life, and they had just been introduced to such an intense dose of it and were expected to perform. in a hostile environment! and Lance being the softhearted goof he is definitely wouldn’t forgive himself if they got hurt or hurt themselves when he could’ve helped.

and so... Lance has assigned himself an enormous task because he’s Lance. everyone has sort of caught on to this and just accept Lance as being so strangely in tune with their well-being in this regard, all of them having varying degrees of understanding why, the general picture being it likely runs in his family and he is well aversed in both experiencing it and mollifying it. so when ever Shiro is hit by a flash back or has gone catatonic in a more intense episode of his cannon PTSD, it’s Lance and Keith at his side making sure he’s safe from hurting himself, they protect him from getting hurt if it happens in the middle of a mission, and from possibly hurting the people around him. Lance is a light sleeper and is often woken up by light cries and whimpers of his friends having nightmares, depending on which direction they come from warrants his level of concern (he goes by where their room is and the pitch of their cries, because they all get nightmares every now and again, they’re at ~war~ and it’s traumatizing, but some of his friends have worse reactions and tendencies in that state) and sometimes if they never quiet he’ll wait up to make sure they fall asleep okay and that no one hurts themselves in their delirium. and similarly, when Keith is rocked by a string of sleepless, nightmare ridden nights or occasional bouts of insomnia (neither officially established as cannon) and turns up to breakfast sleep deprived and sluggish Lance keeps an eye on him, takes it easy on him with his chiding, watches to see that he doesn’t over exert himself and end up snapping at someone and then crumbling from an exhaustion induced anxiety attack, especially when they’re out on a mission where the stakes are higher to maintain your composure. Lance is there when Hunk who is the most expressively anxious of the bunch is feeling particularly skiddish about a circumstance or on a dangerous mission or in anticipation of one of their teammates stumbling out of their cryopod in tact. he is especially good at knowing what’ll trigger his best friend and can usually manage some reassuring words before he goes full fight or flight and loses his lunch. but what’s most impressive is when he gets through to Pidge. she is a perfectionist, she needs constant intellectual stimulation to calm her nerves but the long hours she spends straining her eyes and her brain is also what makes her inclined to breakdown after a tough mission or during a difficult training session or from aparticularly tactless joke from one of the boys about her height and the like, but especially from frustration about not being able to solve a problem. but when Pidge breaks down it’s like next level bad, her usual practicality and composure utterly abandoned since when she’s lost her logical exterior it’s after a long time of surpressing her emotions, so if she has started crying she usually can’t get herself to stop, on several occasions hyperventilating and passing out. Lance seems to be the only one whose reassuring words she can prescribe to. he does breathing excercises with her to regain a normal breathing pattern and let’s her fall asleep on his chest so she can feel the rise and fall and emulate it. There’s fully now a whumpy fic that i wrote about this dynamic... here.

and the entire team is there to support Lance when he has an episode of his own anxiety. though he is really good at rationalizing his intrusive thoughts when he’s overwhelmed or panicked, it’s all of his good vibes only bs that helps him neutralize most of his anxiety before it builds. but when it does build up it usually manifests in him breaking down over the thought that he might never see his family again, it’s constricting, it’s the only thing he can’t rationalize. his team is very aware of this and try to comfort him before he spirals and usually catch it. Pidge even tries to do his own breathing techniques with him sometimes. and Hunk is especially good at calming him after a nightmare that he wakes up screaming from, usually about his family member dying or him dying before he gets to say goodbye, but Hunk is there whispering mantras in spanish to him until he calms down enough to go back to sleep.

so basically Lance is voltron’s emotional support animal and no one can convince me otherwise.

i digress.

[loser-writings]

Hihii you’re literally one of my fav Writers 🥺 could I get that one shot w Omega!Aizawa having a nightmare abt Oboro and the reader comforting him ?

This builds off of the Omega! Aizawa story I wrote a while ago! I hope you meant for the night I mentioned Aizawa having a nightmare in-between 2nd and 3rd year. If you meant adult Aizawa, please let me know! I’ll write a series of headcanons about how he deals with nightmares now.

WARNING: Spoilers for the Manga, Major character death, sexual implications

Nightmares || Young Omega! Aizawa

Oboro was gone. He had been for a few months now, but Aizawa wouldn’t have known that based on how frequent the boy appeared in his dreams. Always so supportive and kind, memories started to blur with his dreams which only caused more pain. 

Then there were those nights. The nights where he went to bed with high hopes that Oboro would be there to reassure him once again that he was worth it. That he was worthy of being a hero and that he was good for something, even as an Omega, but it only reminded him of how time seemed to move so slow during that moment. During his death. 

His voice was so clear too. The whole time he fought the villain after Oboro had been crushed, he swore that he had been cheering him on. Yet, he vividly remembered the bloody body bag as well. He was gone, and no matter what he attempted to do in his dreams, they always ended the same way. 

He launched himself out of bed once again, scent burning as several distressed chirps left his omega. He placed his hand over his chest, trying to calm his heavy breathing as well as his omega before taking a moment to look around. He was in his bedroom. He was awake. He could feel the hardwood under his feet. He was acutely aware of how his pajamas rubbed against his body. He was breathing. He was alive. 

His scent continued to burn as he slowly sat back down on his bed, resting his head in his hands as he tried to remember what exactly he did this time. The dream was already fading, but he swore it had something to do with those kids. God he felt so bad for those kids, barely older than pups and yet they already witnessed the cruel reality of the world.

Another chirp left his chest.

He groaned softly as tears threatened to spill and his breathing became uneven. He was getting in his head again. Overthinking. Oboro told him to stop that- Goddamn it everything brought him back to his friend. He needed a distraction.

He reached over to his phone and quickly turned it on, blinding his sensitive eyes as he clumsily turned down the brightness. After he could properly look at his phone, he quickly found your contact name and sent a simple text.

“Open your window. I’ll be there soon”

He pressed send before quickly gathering the bag he had prepared beforehand. Maybe he did overthink. Maybe he was in his head too much and overprepared, but that couldn’t have been a bad thing...Right?

He continued to ponder as he left his bedroom through his window, knowing he didn’t have to sneak out. His parents didn’t really care what he did, but he still didn’t want to risk waking them up. 

Once his feet hit the ground, he started walking towards your place. Luckily, it wasn’t that far away and it gave him enough time to compose himself. He stopped crying and his scent wasn’t as bitter as before, but he was well aware of how animals seemed to flee from him and other people seemed to cringe or cover their noses as he walked by. 

He never really cared for the coffee scent he had, finding it mildly ironic because of his disgust at the thought of drinking the bitter liquid, but you never seemed to mind it. In fact, it seemed like you were almost as addicted to the scent as a middle aged woman was to the actual drink. He smiled a little at the joke in his head before realizing he was almost to your house.

He noticed how your window was open and grinned a bit before knocking on the frame to alert you that he was there, only noticing you sitting on your bed in your favorite Pajamas after he crawled in the window and sat his bag down. Despite it being...Gosh it was 1 in the morning. Why did he wake you up? Well he might not have woke you up, you might’ve just been tired but how was he supposed to know-

“Shota.”

He snapped his head up at you only to see you with a small smile. It melted his heart and calmed his anxieties, seeing you look that way at him. 

“Come here, Omega. Tell me what’s got you bitter.” Your arms opened wide so he knew you wanted to hold him. 

He found himself quickly crawling into your arms, pressing his nose against your scent gland as you created a comforting scent to help calm him. His omega let out soft purrs as he felt your hands wrap around him, softly massaging his sides and hips while rocking him slightly. He found himself out of his head for once, completely focused on you and how nice it was to be in your arms.

“Omega, please talk to me” A soft kiss was pressed to his neck, above the scent gland, making him shiver and cling to you more.

“Just...A nightmare about him again.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

You let out a soft hum and pressed your lips to his temple before moving one of your hands into his own. Despite the little time you both had been courting, only a few weeks now, he found out that you knew the answer to the majority of the questions you asked and often could tell what was wrong before his scent could change or a word was said. 

His arms slipped around your neck as he hid once again, relaxing once you pulled him closer once again. 

“Wanna talk about it, or be distracted?”

God he loved when you asked him that. You never forced him to speak about it and always gave him options. You let him think about the options for a second, but spoke before he could get too in his head again.

“Darling, You know you don-” 

“Distraction. I don’t think I can talk about it without getting emotional.” He admitted and pulled away, not realizing how his hands slipped into your hair until he pulled them away to cup your cheeks. He grinned a little at how you seemed to lean into his hands as yours rested on his hips. 

“Fair enough. Just know that you have every right to feel the way you do, he was your best friend.” His grin faded and his scent started to turn, but you quickly pulled him close and pecked his jaw, hands moving to his sides before your fingers started poking at him. He gasped and jerked away from you, glaring at you while puffing out his cheeks. 

“Stop that,” He demanded as his hands moved to hold yours. “You know I can’t stand being tickled.”

“But it’s so cute. Hearing your omega chirp from the sudden poke.” You smirked and went to do it again but the Omega continued to wrestle your hands away from his sensitive sides until you managed to push him down on your bed. Neither of you thought about the position you were in, only that he was starting to giggle and smile again as he continued to wiggle, squirm, and fight you.

When you finally let him win, his scent had switched to a much sweeter and happy scent, something that made your Alpha boom with pride. His arms managed to wrap around your neck before he leaned up to kiss you. He hardly ever kissed first, so your eyes widened at the sudden action of the other. You kissed him back and noticed how his hands seemed to wander. Starting on your cheeks but moving to your hair, only to slowly move down your shoulders and arms as the makeout session continued. 

His omega and your alpha were purring up a storm, enjoying the affection in the moment. Your hands caressed his body but the second his back lifted off of the bed, you pulled away. He whined loudly, pink cheeks and sweet scent filling your room.

“Whyd...you stop?” He asked softly, looking at you with lidded and lustful eyes. Your alpha wanted to devour him, but you held back before moving to kiss his cheek.

“I don’t want to get carried away, darling...You deserve the best and you might not be thinking clearly.” You mumbled before pressing a few more kisses to the mans’ jaw.

He let out an annoyed whine before cupping your cheeks and kissing you once again, but it was cut short when he pulled away. 

“I asked for a distraction, so distract me. I promise, I’ll be okay and there is nobody else I'd want besides you.” He mumbled against your lips before pecking you again.

“You positive?” You asked, caressing your hands down his body one more time before meeting his gaze. He nodded and moved to hold your hand. 

“You’re overthinking. I want you to distract me and make me feel loved. I know that you’ll make me feel loved and special, so please. Make me feel loved.” He spoke clearly, fully submitting to you but also giving you that push you needed to take the next step.

Safe to say that Aizawa slept like a rock after.

[lazyflan]

JamiKali SickFic, kinda

English is not my first languaje so be kind and if you notice errors please tell me to correct them! Also, my english it's mediocre at best when I'm tired and I haven't sleep in like 24hrs so yeah, this is bad. I don't know what I wrote, so just enjoy, I guess?

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

After Jamil’s OB Kalim started to notice how much he actually depended on Jamil to survive the day.

He used to be awoken by Jamil in the morning, followed by eating breakfast made by him, he also needed Jamil to help him in classes that he didn’t understand and to keep himself awake during these. After classes he would eat some pastries that Jamil made for him and then they studied together, he struggled a lot so the only way to understand the material passed on classes was that Jamil would tell him what to do step-by-step or he couldn’t understand.

But now that he saw how much he kept Jamil behind he decided to became more independent.

The first sleepless nights where he couldn’t forget what Jamil told him during his OB he started to learn some things, like how to put on his makeup, it wasn’t the best the first few times, but after a whole night trying and re-applying makeup he got the hang of it. It didn’t look as good or neat as how Jamil made it, but it passed unnoticed by his fellow classmates, except the ones from Pomefiore, who remarked on it every so often.

He even started to even cook for himself! It wasn’t as good as Jamil’s coking, but it filled his stomach enough to not get hungry until lunch. And after class he started buying snacks that could give him enough energy to continue until dinner.

For his studies he started to join Azul and the Leech twins on the library, he maintained Floyd distracted enough to not bother Azul and Jade, and in exchange they explained the concepts he didn’t understand in class.

He actually managed to not bother Jamil that much and he blossomed during that time, Jamil started to get better grades on most subjects and now that had more time free and away from him he started to make more friend in the dorm.

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

Everything fine, as fine as he could be, now that he knew his childhood friend actually hated his guts. Until he got sick.

He wasn’t accustomed to being sick, last time he got the flu was a couple of years ago. But when he gets sick everyone knows, he stops being active, his attitude gets more gloomy and gets clingier than usual.

It was the first time he got sick without Jamil by his side helping him.

It started on his last class, his head started to hurt ever so slightly, so he thought it was because they had read a lot during that class. But the bad feeling continued during the day. He didn’t eat snacks because he started feeling slightly nauseous, and after that he couldn’t keep up with Floyd during the study session, Azul had given a look at him and sent him to his dorm to get some rest because he “Looked like he was going to faint in any moment”.

When he arrived to his room he went to the bathroom, to notice he actually looked very pale in contrast to his usual tone of skin.

In that moment everything that happened during the last weeks came crushing into him. He felt tired, sad and melancholic. So, for the first time since he arrived to Night Raven College he skipped dinner. He supposed that no-one would notice, after all Jamil wasn’t maintaining an eye on him and the rest wouldn’t think anything from it.

He slipped into his bed sheets and feeling feverish he fell into a dreamless sleep.

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

He woke up thanks to the feeling of a cold hand on his forehead.

He slowly opened his eyes to see Jamil looking him with a worried gaze.

“J-Jamil?” He asked, even when he felt his throat hurt.

That made Jamil notice he was awake.

“Kalim, you have a fever, you should sleep” He responded while he slowly caressed his hair.

With the calm feeling of having Jamil next to him he slowly fell into sleep again.

After what he thinks where a couple of hours sleeping he woke up to Jamil giving him some medicine and a little of soup and water. After that he again fell asleep to Jamil whispering reassurances of him getting better in no time.

He was in and out of sleep, but whenever he opened his eyes Jamil was there to quickly help him with whatever he needed.

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

According to some of his peers a couple of days after that, he was with a high fever for a couple of days and Jamil didn’t leave his side during that time. And that he was the one that noticed his absence at first. When he questioned about Kalim’s whereabouts and nobody had answered he had gone directly to Kalim’s room to find him burning up on his bed.

Jamil had taken care of him during those days, to the point he didn’t sleep and skipped classes.

But once Kalim was feeling better and could actually think and process things Jamil disappeared from his side.

During the days leading to his complete recovery Kalim hadn’t seen Jamil at all. But he wanted to thank Jamil for helping him and ask him why he did it. Because didn’t Jamil hated him?

It took him a couple of days until he managed to find Jamil alone on the Scarabia dorms so he could talk with him.

“Jamil” He called waiting to being noticed by the other.

“Yes?” Jamil looked at him.

“Can we talk?” He asked shyly “In private?” He added knowing that they could be interrupted by his peers.

Jamil send him a questioning look, but the grabbed his arm and draw him to his room.

Once in Jamil’s room they looked at each other awkwardly.

“…so?” Jamil started “What did you wanted to talk about?”

“I just want to thank you… and apologize” Kalim started.

“Ok, then do it” Jamil responded harshly.

In that moment it was like a button was pressed in Kalims mind and he just started talking.

“I-I’m sorry I was such a bad friend, I’m sorry that I never noticed how you felt, even if you were supposed to be my best friend, I’m sorry for never telling you how thankful I was for everything you have made for me, I’m sorry I never acknowledged the sacrifices you did for me. I always took you for granted and I never saw how unhappy you were with me.” He started to say gibberish at this point, but he didn’t cared, he wanted to show Jamil how sorry he was. His body was trembling and he didn’t know at what point pitiful sobs started to wreck his body.

He stopped when suddenly he felt a pair of strong arms circling his body.

“Kalim, calm down” He heard “It’s okay, just calm down and we can talk about this”

Knowing that Jamil wasn’t going to kick him out for his outburst he relaxed a little and threw himself into the secure embrace of Jamil. It remembered him when they were little and Kalim had nightmares and Jamil would calm him down.

He sobbed into Jamil chest murmuring apologies for everything that he had done that separated them.

After a couple of minutes and feeling calmer he reluctantly separated from Jamil.

Jamil looked at him for a couple of seconds and sighed. “I should be sorry, during my oberbolt I said a lot of hurtful things to you” he started but was cut by Kalim.

“No! You don’t have to apologize! I was the one that didn’t notice how you were feeling” He exclaimed. “I never made an effort to actually know how you were feeling about the things I did, I took you for granted and that hurt you, I totally understand that you hate me and don’t want to take care of me anymore” He was startled when he heard Jamil chuckling.

“That’s the problem Kalim, I really want to hate you, but I can’t” He said like it was a matter of fact.

“Eh?” Kalim could only look at Jamil gobsmacked .

“When I noticed that you started to make things by yourself I felt useless.” He continued. “When I saw that you started to put on your make up I was tempted to grab you and do it again because I would always find a flaw on it” He said while taking Kalim’s face between his hands and tracing his eyeliner with his thumbs.

Kalim just looked at him astonished by the revelation.

“I even had to stop myself from making you breakfast and snacks when I noticed that you where struggling with that, I also wanted to snatch you from the library to make sure you where understanding everything in class… I guess old habits die hard.”

Thanks to this revelation Kalim felt his eyes sting with tears. For a second Jamils face showed confusion to the reaction, but Kalim completely threw himself to hug his friend. While between sobs he apologized and thanked him for not leaving him alone and for caring for him.

Jamil, knowing that Kalim wouldn’t calm down for the rest of the day, decided to lift Kamil to his bed and just hold him until he saw fit.

He tucked Kalim’s head under his chin and started to stroke his back with his hand in order to calm him down.

In there, Kalim was lulled to sleep thanks the secure feeling of being in Jamil’s arms and the secure heartbeat he could feel coming from Jamil’s chest.

After all he now knew that their relationship wasn’t completely destroyed.

[wayward-mikaelson]

Winters’s Doll--Chapter Two

Word Count: 2913

About: Nadia has trained with everyone but Steve and Bucky. Bucky and Nadia formally meet at Tony’s welcome party.

Characters: Nadia, Natasha, Clint (Mentioned), Bucky, Steve, Tony, Wanda, Bartender, Sam Wilson, Vision, Rhodey, 

Pairing: None

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Train-fighting, Mentions of Death, Drinking, Mentions of Nightmares, 

A/N: Obviously I wrote this where we, as the readers, can see that they are clearly already attracted to each other. But they are ridiculously oblivious to that fact. Their team members will see it as well. 

*This work contains content meant for the 18 and up crowd.

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me credit. I work to hard on all of my work.

***This work is posted in Instagram (only an excerpt), WattPad, and Archive Of Our Own. Go show it some love over there. Links can be found in my pinned post.

****Go follow my other accounts. Links can be found in the pinned post in my profile.

*****Currently NOT taking requests. I will make a post when I take them again.

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

Forever Marvel Tags: These tags are open

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags: These tags are open

Story Tags: These Tags are open

My Masterlist

My Marvel Masterlist

Winter’s Doll Masterlist

Chapter One

My Favorite Fic List

Over the next few days, Nadia trained with the team. Which honestly was better than having those two hours with Clint. Clint was real easy to train with. He had her shoot a few arrows which ended in him telling her she was a “show off.” Clint wasn’t great in hand to hand combat. She had him pinned or in a some sort of head lock a few times before he called it quits.

Training with Natasha, or Nat as everyone referred to her as, was kind of a challenge that Nadia welcomed with open arms. Natasha never once went easy on her and Nadia was thankful she didn’t. Nadia learned a few of Natasha’s blind spots and weaknesses. By the end of their session, Nadia finally was able to get Natasha on her back. Natasha smiled and gave her an approving smile.

Training with Wanda proved difficult as well. Her mind reading always had the upper hand and Nadia had to learn how to channel her own thoughts to try and trick Wanda. The red thing that she does with her hands, Clint had reason to be scared of it. Nadia hated it when Wanda used it on her during training. At the end Wanda would always come up and make sure Nadia was okay.

Training with the others was just as easy as training with Clint but they were just slightly better than him. That was until they decided to bring out their suits and gadgets. Sam was easy to predict when was in his Falcon suit. James Rhodes, or as everyone called him, Rhodey, too. When they did that, they were challenging but easy to over come. Tony wasn’t particularly fond that Nadia bested is best friend that he refused to train with Nadia. No amount of convincing that Steve did could get Tony to train with her. Nadia didn’t mind. She would have to just learn about Tony’s tactics in the field which she was okay with.

In between her training, Nadia found herself relaxing or going out for a drink with either Natasha or Wanda or both. The two women were so welcoming, and Natasha, even though she scared the shit out of Nadia, was an easy person to talk to. Wanda knew how to approach you depending on your mood and thoughts. In the end, they were like sisters to Nadia and she could tell them just about anything.

Well, almost everything.

Nadia couldn’t tell them or even think about her attraction to Bucky Barnes. When she learned the name of the metal armed man, she couldn’t help but smile a bit when she could finally put a name with the face that she saw in her dreams at night. She wanted to keep it a secret for as long as she could until Wanda picked up on it or before Natasha saw her checking Bucky out if he passed by while working.

Nadia still hadn’t really met Bucky. Bucky always kept to himself most of the time unless it involved meetings with Steve or overseeing parts of Nadia’s training. He didn’t really speak during those times but Nadia would see him whisper something to Steve. The look in his eyes always held a mysterious look. It made Nadia want to learn more about it.

One day after some intense training with Vision, Nadia least favorite opponent, Nadia went to Natasha and asked about Bucky. Nadia had to make it look casual though. She couldn’t sound too excited when asking Natasha.

“Hey Nat,” Nadia walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “What’s the deal with Barnes?” Nadia wasn’t going to lie, she liked the sound of his last name coming off her tongue. “He’s so, statue like and mysterious with the way he looks at things.”

Natasha looked up at Nadia from the paper she was reading. “Barnes is Steve’s longest and oldest friend.” Natasha set the paper down and folded her hands. “The two of them joined the Army back in forty-five. Barnes was thought to have died in action. Turned out he was captured by Hydra. Turned into a super solider and brainwashed. He killed Tony’s parents and it took a long time for Tony to somewhat forgive him for it, cause you know brainwashing. Um,” Natasha looked down at her hands. “It took a while to undo what Hydra did to him. But according to Steve, he’s the Bucky he knows and trusts.”

“Is there anything else?” Nadia looked out the kitchen window to see Bucky and Steve carrying stuff from a truck. Nadia then remembered the party that Tony had planned. It was tonight. Nadia wasn’t exactly thrilled with that, she hated being the center of attention. But maybe it would give Nadia a chance to meet and speak with Bucky before they train together.

“He has nightmares every now and then,” Natasha followed Nadia’s gaze. “Oh yeah, that’s tonight. Do you have anything to wear? I might have something that might fit you.”

Nadia wasn’t really paying attention. Her focus was more on Bucky carrying things into the building. He carried things so effortlessly without breaking a sweat. Bucky laughed at something Steve said and his eyes met Nadia’s. He nodded while still smiling and continued on his way. Nadia’s heart may have just skipped a beat.

“That’s new,” Wanda’s voice startled Nadia to where she dropped the glass in her hands. Fortunately it didn’t shatter at all. “So that’s why you start reciting random songs and shit whenever he’s around. That way I don’t see you checking him out or thinking about him.”

Nadia quickly picked up the glass and set it in the sink. She turned to the two women who were now very interested in Nadia and what she had kept from them. Natasha was raising an eyebrow with a little smirk on her face. It clicked in Natasha’s head why Nadia asked about Bucky in the first place. Wanda stared at Nadia with her arms crossed.

“Fine, okay,” Nadia gave up her little secret. But if this were going to Nadia’s life now, she had to open up some more. “Yes I think he’s attractive and yes I asked about him to get a run down of him. There’s no harm in it at all, and to frank,” Nadia started to leave waving her hands. “I don’t think he could like me. Plus I don’t do office romance shit.”

Nadia disappeared around he corner leaving Wanda and Natasha exchanging looks. Nadia then peeked back around and eyed Natasha. “I do need something to wear, I don’t have anything nice for a party.”

Nadia stared at herself in the mirror.

Natasha had a nice little black dress that fit Nadia perfectly. It hugged her curves in all the right places and gave her breast a little push up. Natasha even did her hair up in a braid with some loose strands hanging here and there. It surprised Nadia when she saw the sparkle in Natasha’s eyes when she did this for her. Even her make-up.

“It’s natural and subtle. Perfect for you and you don’t even need lip color.” Natasha stepped aside and looked over Nadia. “You look beautiful.” That being said, it put Nadia in good spirits.

Once at the party, Nadia was the center of attention. Which she hated. The way people had flaunted around her made her clam up and force a smile. She resorted into automated answers like “Nice to meet you.” “Oh yes, its been really nice here.” “Everyone’s nice.” “It’s been lovely meeting you.” When Nadia thought she escaped one group of people, another engulfed her in conversation.

It was a lot for her and all Nadia wanted to do was make her way to the open bar and down a shot of bourbon. No, not a shot, probably the whole bottle. Nadia wondered if this was Tony’s way of having the upper hand from the meeting some days before. If so, she knew how to play this game. She made a mental note to send a glitter bomb to Tony to make him see that she can out petty him.

Maybe.

Just when Nadia thought she escaped the sixth group of people, she turned around and bumped right into Tony. Guessing that the woman on his arm was Pepper. Nadia threw on her fake smile and smoothed out the dress she wore.

“Alexis,” Tony said reaching out a hand. Nadia let it slide and took his hands and shook it firmly. “I hope you’re enjoying the night. Didn’t Pepper did an amazing job planning this.”

Nadia looked at Pepper with a smile. “It’s beautiful and Tony,” Nadia put on the sweetest voice. “I’ve told you to call me Nadie. I don’t want to called my dead brother’s nickname.” Total lie, Nikola was Nik to just about everyone. But it didn’t beat the look on Tony’s face when Pepper lightly slapped him, scolding him for being so inconsiderate.

It gave Nadia time to make her escape and finally make her way to the open bar. When she turned back, Tony was staring at her. The look he gave her, he knew she was messing with him. It also made her pull out her phone from her dress pocket, something that Nadia loved, and pulled up the glitter bomb site.

“Bourbon,” she told the bartender when he asked what she wanted.

“Bourbon?” the bartender asked. “Are you sure? We something that’s a bit lighter.”

Nadia looked up at the young bartender. He must have been fresh out of school and was probably needing money to pay back all those loans. The look on his face was pretty innocent so Nadia knew that he didn’t mean anything rude towards her. Probably just looking out for her well being. Nadia opened her mouth to say something but someone had beaten her to it.

“If the pretty lady says bourbon, you give the pretty lady her bourbon,” The voice wasn’t familiar to Nadia. It was smooth not too deep, and almost raspy. It sent a small shiver down Nadia’s spine. “Make it two bourbons, though.”

Nadia watched the young bartender hurry to get the two drinks ready. Poor guy was flustered and whoever spoke still stood next Nadia. Nadia made the decision to turn to the her left and who she saw was the one person she didn’t except to see here.

Bucky stood there with a small smile on his face. His dark hair was pulled back into a hair band. His face was clean shaven too. Bucky wore a custom made suit because of his metal arm. He didn’t look too comfortable in it but Nadia wasn’t going to lie to herself, it looked good on him.

“I didn’t except to see you here,” Nadia said taking a deep breath.

The drinks were placed on the counter. Bucky grabbed both of them and handed one to Nadia. Nadia took it and took a big gulp. “Yeah, this isn’t normally my kind of scene. I was about ready to leave when I saw you trying to make your way over here. I could see it plain as day that you hate this party too. I also saw the opportunity to introduce myself.”

Nadia’s jaw almost dropped. Bucky had been watching her. “Well, I mean, I know your name is Bucky.” Took another drink.

“That’s just a nickname Steve gave to me growing up.” Bucky sipped on his drink. “My real name is James.”

Nadia felt the bourbon start to kick in. “Are you saying that I should call you James,” she smirked.

Bucky laughed a little. “No, you can call me whatever you want, Doll.” Nadia wasn’t sure if doll was something he called girls because of the time period he’s from, but it didn’t matter. Nadia liked it. “Should we get out of here?” Bucky asked after taking another drink.

Nadia furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. “You want me to run from my own party?” she asked.

Bucky reached behind the bar counter and grabbed the bourbon bottle. Without the young bartender seeing. Or even if he saw, he didn’t make a move to stop a man with a metal arm. “Yeah, why not? It’s not fun anyway. Stark did this just to boost his ego more.”

Nadia bite her lip and looked behind her to see if anyone, such as Wanda or Natasha were watching her. When she couldn’t see them or anyone the knew or recognized for that matter, she turned back to Bucky who had been waiting for her answer. “Sure, why not.”

Nadia and Bucky found themselves outside sitting on the curb. They shared the bourbon bottle while they swapped stories about anything the two were willing to share. Some war stories from when they were in the army. Some mission stories Bucky thought was worth sharing like one time Sam Wilson got caught in a pine tree and it nearly blew the whole mission. Nadia told the story about how her brother almost got caught by his commanding officer and started to pull shit out of his ass. That story left Nadia in laughter and tears. Bucky had laughed hard as well.

“Your brother sounds fucking amazing,” Bucky handed the bottle to Nadia who took a sip.

“He was pretty fucking amazing,” Nadia said softly and she saw the expression change on Bucky’s face.

“I’m so sorry,” he said looking he deep in her eyes as he put the pieces together. Bucky saw the sadness creep in and knew that it was a sore subject. “I didn’t know.”

Nadia flashed a forced smile. “It’s okay, how could you have known.” she took the bottle from Bucky and took a long drink. Nadia wasn’t ready for this kind of conversation but she got herself there. She really didn’t owe Bucky anything but part of her felt like she had to. He was her team member right?

“His name was Nikola,” Nadia gave Bucky a smile. “We were Irish twins. He was a New Years baby while a few months later on Saint Patricks Day, I was conceived. Born a few days shy of Christmas.” Nadia laughed. She recalled her father jokingly telling her that she was a drunken mistake. “We gave our parents hell growing up. We enlisted at the same time. Shipped to boot camp the same time, obviously different bases. We always had each others backs despite the distance between us.”

Bucky leaned forward and brushed a stray tear that had escaped Nadia’s eyes. The action surprised her and felt nice at the same time. She hadn’t realized that she had let a few tears escape. Nadia knew that she still wasn’t over her brother’s death for various reasons but she didn’t know that it still brought her to tears.

“How? If I may ask?” Bucky let his hand linger a little longer than he should have. After a minute he slowly pulled back and took a long drink, knowing the alcohol wouldn’t do anything to his super human body. He was surprised by his actions as well.

“Our units somehow got merged together and our outpost was a building that was supposed to secure. At midnight it blew up, leaving him dead and me injured and discharged.” Nadia took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. It was beautiful. The stars shined just perfectly here because the compound wasn’t located smack dap in the middle of the city. The bright city lights would drown them out.

“I’m sorry, that must have been hard,’ Bucky said.

“It was, but it opened up this opportunity,” Nadia looked back at Bucky with a smile. “I’ve made some pretty good friends. One who I haven’t been able to train with.” Nadia eyed Bucky with a small smirk. “Any weaknesses or such I should be aware of?”

“Aside from pretty girls who drink their liquor straight?” Bucky laughed. “I guess you’ll have to see when the day comes.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “Come on, you’ve seen me train and probably have pin pointed weak points and blind spots.” Bucky side eyes Nadia with a smirk. “Okay,” she stood up taking the bourbon with her. “I guess, let the best man or woman win.”

“You’re on,” Bucky stood up.

“There you two are,” Steve’s voice brought Nadia and Bucky back to the reality there was a party going on. “Nadia, people have asked where you are.”

“Good, it’ll teach Stark to not call me Alexis. If that doesn’t work I have a glitter bomb being sent to him either way.” Bucky, who had taken the bourbon from Nadia, choked back on it. He didn’t dare say anything but smile at Nadia.

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” Steve said crossing his arms. “I’ve seen how you fight and honestly it scares me almost as much as Natasha’s fighting scares me. Speaking of, you and Bucky are training first thing in the morning. Then in the afternoon, you and I are training. Don’t be too sick.” Steve turned to leave but turned back around. “Also, Vision has voiced he won’t train with you.”

Nadia felt a good sense of relief. She didn’t want to train with Vision cause she was secretly terrified of him. That little gold gem like thing on his head was also a little intimidating. “Sounds good.”

[thebeatleaesthetic]

SEASON OF GLASS (AND IT’S COVER)...

I used a photo I took of John’s blood-stained glasses on the record cover. The record company called me and said the record shops would not stock the record unless I changed the cover. I didn't understand it. Why? They said it was in bad taste. I felt like a person soaked in blood coming into a living room full of people and reporting that my husband was dead, his body was taken away, and the pair of glasses were the only thing I had managed to salvage – and people looking at me saying it was in bad taste to show the glasses to them. "I'm not changing the cover. This is what John is now," I said.

– “ONOBOX” by Yoko Ono.

''What was I supposed to do, avoid the subject? ...A lot of people advised me that I shouldn't put that cover on the record, but I really wanted the whole world to see those glasses with blood on them and to realize the fact that John had been killed. It wasn't like he died of old age or drugs or something. People told me I shouldn't put the gunshots on the record, and the part where I start swearing, 'Hate me, hate us, we had everything,' which was just letting those feelings out. I know if John had been there, he would have been a lot more outspoken than I was. He was like that.

''My bedroom was right on 72d Street and on the night of the death, the fans kept playing this one record of John's. I was like a zombie, just lying there and hearing him sing 'Imagine' over and over and over. For about 10 days, it went on like that...”

– “YOKO ONO ASKS, 'WAS I SUPPOSED TO AVOID THE SUBJECT?'” by Robert Palmer (The New York Times, 1981)

John was killed, and it was very important for me to show that to the world, and for people to remember. Because I think that all of us are responsible of his death, of course including myself and both John and I were always trying to make a peaceful world.  And it’s very ironical that John who loved peace so much, died in a violent way.

– Yoko Ono, Ina France television interview (1981)

…I’ve seen a floor with a pond of blood. And that was the reality. And this was like a very, very, mild expression of that. And I was totally amazed that people felt that I was exploiting him. It wasn’t that at all. I felt the oneness with him and we were saying, `Please look at me. This is what you did to me.’ I mean, that’s what John wanted to say, I think.

– Yoko Ono, “Ono--Oh Yes!” by Jody Denberg (The Austin Chronicle, 1997)

…I would stick by it. That made that album not commercial and the record company called me and said, “Look, you have to change the cover otherwise we can’t put it out because all the shops say they’re not going to carry it.” And I said, “Well, we’ll just have to take a chance.” To have those glasses on the cover was important because it was a statement and you have to understand that it was like John wanted you guys to see those glasses. Because that was what was done to him. I saw what was done to him. It was worse than that cover shows. I’ve seen the worst of it and that cover was just like a very mild statement, a little message to you from John.

-- Yoko Ono, “Who the Hell Does Yoko Ono Think She Is” by Tom Hilbert (Q Magazine, 1988)

When I started to sing I noticed my throat was all choked up and my voice was cracking. I seriously thought maybe I should quit making the album because, as some people had advised me, “It was not the time”.

But the question was, when would it be the time? I thought of all the people in the world whose voices were choking and cracking for many reasons. I could sing for them. I could call it a “choke” or “crackle”. Well, wasn’t that what the critics had been saying about me for all these years anyway? That gave me a laugh, and it became easier. Many amazing things happened during the recording session. All I can say is that John was right there with me, busy trying to arrange things for me. That is why this album is not dedicated to him. He would have been offended. He was one of us.

– Yoko Ono (notes on the album)

...Ms. Ono, 80, posted on her Twitter account four antigun messages with an image of the blood-splattered glasses that Lennon was wearing when he was gunned down outside their Manhattan apartment building on Dec. 8, 1980. With the photo, once used on a 1981 album cover and in a 2000 antigun billboard campaign, she wrote: “The death of a loved one is a hollowing experience. After 33 years our son Sean and I still miss him. Yoko Ono Lennon.”

...She also used the image of the bloodied glasses on billboards that she paid for to help carry her message [of ending gun violence] in New York, Los Angeles and Cleveland. She used language similar to what she posted on Twitter this week on some of the billboards: “Over 676,000 people have been killed by guns in the U.S.A. since John Lennon was shot and killed on December 8, 1980.”

– “Yoko Ono Details Why She Posted Lennon’s Bloodied Glasses on Twitter “ by Jennifer Preston (The Lede)

John Lennon’s name isn’t mentioned in any lyric, but his presence is everywhere — from the cover photo of his shattered eyeglasses to Ono’s moving liner notes, which explain that the album wasn’t dedicated to Lennon because “he was one of us.”

– “Season of Glass” by Stephen Holden (album review for The Rolling Stone)

[Season of Glass] marks the point in time when we all lost a legend and not only encapsulates Yoko's sadness, but the world's. But more than her sadness, Season of Glass displays Ono's remarkable strength through this period.

– Ryan Schreiber

"Season of Glass was the salvation for me," Yoko said of her 1981 album. "I had gone into an uncharted period in my life, with no reference points... Music was the most natural thing I could think of. It was part of our life." The album's cover is a photo of John's blood-spattered glasses. As painful as it was to take the photo, Yoko knew that only she could "get it right."

– “Yoko Ono: Collector of Skies” by Nell Beram, Carolyn Boriss-Krimsky

For an artist who always had been uncompromisingly candid in her work, Ono's 1981 album Season of Glass, produced and released in response to Lennon's murder in December 1980, served as a deeply emotional--and inherently public–catharsis.

...And ultimately, Season of Glass offers heartbreaking testimony, not only through its wrenching music content, but directly on its face: Ono's photographic still life of Lennon's broken, blood-stained glasses next to a half full/empty glass of water on their apartment windowsill. 

– “Yes Yoko Ono” by Alexandra Munroe, Bruce Altshuler, and Jon Hendricks

A glass half empty. Her dead husband’s eyeglasses smeared with his blood. The window, the camera lens. All glass. Transparent. A misty rainy-day photograph viewing the New York City skyline through several gloomy horizons – taken from their bedroom window above Central Park. Their home. The city that John loved.

This was Yoko’s fragile world in December 1980.

...On the album cover, Yoko shares her nightmare – illustrating what the world had done to John and to her. Yoko reflects the horror right back on society, just as Jacqueline Kennedy wore her blood-stained Chanel suit in public for the remainder of the tragic day that she experienced the exact same trauma of seeing her husband killed in front of her. Yoko lets us see through the shattered window of her world and hides nothing – as always.

-- “SHATTERED. SEASON OF GLASS“  by Madeline Bocaro

‘spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence summer passes and one remembers one’e exuberance autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance

there is a season that never passes and that is the season of glass’

– Yoko Ono (1980)

[kiwi-stan]

Crave

Description: AU Harry’s a struggling songwriter until a song about being in lofe with his best friend puts him on the map. My contribution to the pick your poison challenge that @oh-honey-styles​ @for-fucks-sake-h​ and @andwhenshesays​ organized. I haven’t written in so long but this has been a fun way to get back into it now that I have more downtime!

Warnings: None aside from me taking liberties with the process of how writing a song actually works 

Harry’s family had thought he was insane for dropping out of university and moving to LA to try songwriting professionally. And a few years in, he was starting to think that they were right. He hadn’t expected to start working with big names right away, but after two years, he had been hoping to move beyond indie artists who had about a thousand monthly listeners on Spotify. Songwriting was his dream. He loved music, loved creating it, but didn’t want the fame. The inability to step outside without being recognized, the scrutiny, the media attention. He wanted to stay behind the scenes. But he was beginning to think about packing it up, moving back home, and finishing his college degree and getting some boring office job. Until you called and announced that you had found a job in LA after graduating and would be moving. 

You’d been Harry’s best friend since you were both small, when some little boy knocked you off the monkey bars at the park and Harry’s protective instincts-already sharp even back then-had rushed over to check if you were okay. There had been a few awkward years in middle school, when he’d been teased by friends for having a girl friend who wasn’t a girlfriend, but that had resolved itself during a very awkward party where you’d played seven minutes together and had mutually agreed that kissing each other was too weird. Aside from that, your friendship had been solid all throughout school, and had even weathered Harry moving to LA. In fact, you were one of the few people from his hometown that he’d kept in contact with. His parents had cut off contact (and financial support) when he’d dropped out of school without warning, and his emails with his sister were infrequent as she was trying to keep up a positive relationship with their parents. He didn’t really have any LA friends either, a few casual acquaintances but no one who he felt like he could really talk to. 

On the day that you arrived, Harry drove to the airport to pick you up. By the time he navigated traffic and dealt with the nightmare of parking at LAX, it was nearly an hour after your flight had landed and half an hour after you’d sent a text saying that you’d claimed your bags. As he entered the terminal, he was worried that you would be angry about him being late. You never were the type to get annoyed about little things like that and from your video chats you didn’t seem to have changed all that much, but two years was a long time and it could bring about a lot of change in a person. He glanced around the room, full of happy reunions and stressed out men in suits setting out on business trips, when he finally spotted you, nestled in a corner and perched on your suitcase. It was like something out of a movie, how you looked up from your phone just as he spotted you, the two of you locked eyes, and you sprang to your feet and ran toward him, throwing your arms around him in an enthusiastic hug and squealing “Harry”. 

“Sorry I’m late.” There were so many things he wanted to say to you, how much he missed you, how happy he was that you were moving, stories he hadn’t wanted to tell over FaceTime. But for some reason, an apology was the first thing that popped out of his mouth. “Traffic was horrible then I had to park…” 

You pulled away from him to wave a hand, dismissing his apology and Harry got his first real look at you. He’d noticed from your Facetime chats that you’d changed your hair to a shorter style and that you’d started wearing more makeup, both choices that were probably seen as “more professional”. Otherwise, you looked about the same, but seeing you in person he noticed that there was a difference in the way you carried yourself. You seemed older, more mature, with the kind of confidence that he assumed came from graduating college and moving across the country on your own. He wondered if he had the same aura around him. “I missed you.” You said, picking up your suitcase and dragging Harry away from his thoughts. “And I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay with you.” You’d explained over FaceTime that the job you’d been offered had wanted you to start right away, not even considering that you would need time to deal with the logistics of moving or finding a place to live. Lucky for you, Harry had stepped in. 

“I missed you too,” Harry took your suitcase from you, dragging it behind him and tugging it toward the exit. “And don’t say that until you see my place.” 

******* 

You’d been worried that things with Harry would have changed in the two years that he’d been gone. But as he took the long drive back to his apartment, you slipped right back into your old friendship, joking and swapping stories. You updated him about what all of your old high school friends were up to and he told you stories about all the weird LA types that he’d met. You’d never admit this, but you’d been worried that he might have turned into one of them since he left, burning sage and displaying an unhealthy obsession posting to Instagram. He seemed like his old self in texts and on your video chats, but you had thought he might be hiding that part of him. You were relieved to see that Harry was still his old self. However, a new set of worries about Harry sprouted as he turned into his neighborhood. 

Harry had alluded to money troubles while you’d been apart, so you had known that he wasn’t living in Beverly Hills. However, you also weren’t really expecting dark streets, abandoned buildings, and liquor stores with bars over the windows. Harry parked outside a seedy looking building and led you up to his apartment, which was the size of a shoebox and overwhelmed with cardboard boxes full of your things. He’d been nice enough to tell you to ship some of your things to his address, though he hadn’t mentioned how tiny his apartment was. By the time Harry had cleared everything off the futon so you could sleep, you’d seen three roaches scurry across the floor and you’d made your mind up. 

“Once I find a place you’re moving in with me.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but you held firm. “Don’t argue. Why didn’t you tell me you were living in a shithole?” You glanced around the small space and another problem occurred to you. “Where exactly are you planning to sleep?” 

“The floor I guess,” He said, gesturing to the sliver of space near the lone window that wasn’t occupied by furniture or boxes. 

You shook your head, thinking back to the roaches you’d seen and the shag carpet that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the 70s. “No way. You’re sleeping with me. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.” It might feel a little strange after your time apart, but back before he dropped out Harry had slept in your tiny twin bed in your dorm room tons of times, sometimes because he’d had a fight with his roommate, sometimes because he was drunk and your room was closer, and sometimes just because he was lonely. You couldn’t even count the number of times you and Harry had slept together platonically. However, a few hours later, when you finally nestled under the covers together-with Harry’s body pressed up against yours, he was big on cuddling (and the small bed didn’t leave you much room to spread out anyway)-you found yourself wondering why something felt different. 

***********

Harry started writing a song that night, about being in love with your best friend. He didn’t have the whole thing right away, which wasn’t usually how he wrote. Usually inspiration came fast, and he could write a whole song in the burst of manic energy he got when it struck. The chorus came that first night when you slept together, about you pressed up against him in a city full of dark alleys. 

The rest came to him slowly over the next few months, as you started your job and found a slightly better apartment to live in. With your entry level salary it wasn’t anything fancy, but it was in an area that made you feel safer and had two bedrooms, though Harry found that he slept worse without you near him and spent many nights tossing and turning before finally falling into a fitful sleep around 3 AM. 

Though you’d been basically joined at the hip since you were young, you and Harry hadn’t shared space like this before. The apartment was still small, which meant that you and Harry were still constantly tripping over each other. Harry had thought it might be annoying, and had even worried that it would fracture your friendship, but it hadn’t. Living together seemed almost natural for the two of you. It meant that he could hear you singing when you came home from work, which meant that you had a good day and would be in the mood to cook something elaborate for dinner, or when you slammed the front door and he knew that you’d had a bad day and that he should order your favorite take out. He found your bobby pins all over the bathroom floor, he sat and watched The Bachelor with you on Monday nights, and he stole your fuzzy socks as the nights started getting cooler. Harry worked on his song while you were at work when he wasn’t at writing sessions for other people, and by the time he finished he felt that it was the best thing he’d ever written. 

Harry knew exactly why the song (currently cryptically titled with an anagram of your name) was the best of anything he’d written so far. Typically he used a lot of creative license when he wrote, writing about things that happened to him long ago, about things that happened to friends of his, about completely made up scenarios, or anything that inspired him really. But he never really wrote about his own life. This was the first time, and it was his first song to really come from the heart. 

After finally perfecting the song, Harry recorded a quick demo on his phone, then sent it off to Jeff, a big-name record producer he’d met a few months back. They’d met during a recording session for some pink-haired indie singer. Though Jeff hadn’t really liked the indie girl and her bananies-and-avacadies voice as he’d joked to Harry, he’d liked Harry’s writing style a lot. He’d slipped Harry his phone number and had told him to send along some of his strongest work. Harry had come close to sending a few things before, but had chickened out at the last minute. Nothing he’d done before was his strongest work, and he knew that. The song about you, he felt good enough to send. 

Harry finally worked up the courage to press the send button during one of his sleepless nights. He hoped that Jeff hadn’t deleted his number, or if he had that he would be willing to listen to a voice message from a random stranger. Since it was nearly 1 am, he was surprised to get a message back almost immediately. Love it Harry. Let’s talk.  Followed by a meeting time and location. 

******* 

A few weeks later, you arrived home (you had been surprised at how quickly you came to think of your new apartment in a new city as “home”, but you came to the conclusion that it was all because Harry was there) to Harry humming a song you didn’t recognize as he cleaned the apartment. He looked up when he saw you, dropping the broom and drawing you into a hug. “Hey!” He swayed you back and forth a few times as he held you. You had forgotten that little tic of his, but the motion reminded you of how much you loved it. It always made you feel safe and comforted, probably because it replicated the motion of a mother rocking a baby. And it was something Harry only did when he was really happy. 

“What happened?” You asked once he let you go. Harry hadn’t seemed sad exactly, but you’d had the feeling that being isolated from his family and under almost constant money and career stress were starting to get to him. You hadn’t seen him happy like this since you were in college together and he aced a difficult Music Theory final. 

“I think we should go out tonight. Somewhere nice-ish.” 

This piqued your interest even more. Even combining your incomes, you still weren’t really on a going-out-regularly-in-LA budget. Something had happened. Something big. “Harry, tell me what’s going on.” 

“I wrote a song a few weeks ago and The Heartbreakers want it.” 

Your jaw dropped at the mention of the group who had shot to fame almost overnight a few years ago after one of their songs went viral on SoundCloud. Unlike some other indie groups that had scored mainstream hits and had faded to irrelevancy after a few weeks, The Heartbreakers had hired a good management team and were able to capitalize on the hit to become one of the biggest groups on the planet. “Harry, that’s amazing!” You threw your arms around him again. “But how? What? I didn’t even think you knew them? And I thought they wrote all their own stuff?” 

Harry pulled back enough to look at you and gave a little laugh at all of your questions. His hands stayed around your waist, your arms around his neck. “That’s what they say. They use ghostwriters basically. I had to sign an NDA and got an advance that’s basically hush money.” You frowned, not really liking the thought that Harry wasn’t going to get any credit for his work. “Hey no, that’s just how it works sometimes,” He added, noticing your facial expression. “The music industry isn’t pretty. I knew that going in and I kind of expected it. Producers and other writers have their own kind of underworld. The important people will know that I wrote it. This will lead to more big stuff for me. I know. I wouldn’t have given the song away if I didn’t.” 

Noticing that you still didn’t look happy, Harry was quick to change the subject. “As for how, I don’t know them. At all. It all went through this producer, Jeff, that I met a few months back. He wanted to hear some of my stuff, but nothing ever seemed good enough until I wrote this song. I sent it to him, he loved it and thought it would work with their sound. He took it to them and they wanted it. I’ve never even met them.” 

“Will you get to?” You said, thinking that you would at least want to shake someone’s hand before handing off a piece of art that you created to them and letting them act like it was theirs. 

Harry nodded. “I have to go in for a writing session and be there while they record in case they want to make any tweaks. Which they probably will. Change a word, get a third and all that.” Your frown returned at the mention of the unfair way that royalties were distributed. Harry noticed. “But this will still be really big for me. It’s the right move. I know.” 

You studied him for a moment, looking for any sign of hesitation. “I trust you.” Realizing that you’d been holding each other for an awkward amount of time, and that it felt surprisingly good to have your best friend holding you, his big hands solid at your waist and your fingers toying with the curls at the back of his neck, you stepped away. “I’d love to hear it. Do you have a recording yet?” Harry looked alarmed. “What? Has the NDA got you scared?” You teased. Harry could be shy about sharing his work, but he’d always been open about it with you. He called you his guinea pig, you were often the first one to hear new songs. 

“I just wrote it a few weeks ago. I got really inspired seeing you again, I guess.” Harry said, suddenly seeming shy. 

“Harry that’s so sweet.” You asked, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. No one had ever written or created anything for you before, and as far as you knew you hadn’t inspired anything either (aside from some crude messages in the boy’s locker room back in high school that Harry had taken a Sharpie to almost immediately after they popped up). 

“But I can’t play it for you. I don’t own it anymore. I already signed it over.” 

“Harry, we’re alone in our apartment. No one’s gonna know.” 

“I know, I know.” Harry picked up his broom and went back to his sweeping, obviously nervous. “It’s a little unpolished though.” 

“That never stopped you before.” Harry had played you things that were completely unfinished before, sometimes even when he just had a few chords together or two lines of lyrics. 

“I really think the Heartbreakers will do it better than me. I think the first time you hear it, it should be their version.” 

“At least tell me what it’s called.” 

“It doesn’t have a name,” Harry said a little too fast. “Or at least right now. When it actually gets released they’ll find something marketable, I’m sure. Do you want to go to a club tonight, or just dinner?” 

You accepted Harry’s abrupt change of subject and decided not to push it, but you spent the entire evening (both dinner and a club, Harry wanted to splurge since he knew his so-called hush money would be kicking in soon) wondering why Harry didn’t want you to hear the song. 

*********

“So,” Jeff began as the final recording session for the song, which had been renamed “Crave” wrapped up. The Heartbreakers had left for the day, and Harry and Jeff had hung back to do some final mixing. Harry didn’t really need to be there either, but Jeff wanted his approval on the final version of the song and he seemed happy for the company. “You never told me who this song is about.” 

“Who says it's about anyone?” Harry asked, trying not to sound harsh. Despite the fact that they’d been working closely together on Crave, they weren’t good enough friends where they could be quite so honest with each other. 

“Every song is about someone. Especially ones this heartfelt.” Jeff let the song play once through. The Heartbreakers had changed very little lyrically, adding a lyric to the chorus about craving the person the song was addressed to (which was where they’d drawn the title from). They’d changed a bit more when it came to the music itself, switching from the indie playing-in-a-coffeshop vibe that Harry had intended, to a rockier sound. Harry thought it sounded much better that way, it was something that he wouldn’t have tried with such a sweet song, and he knew that he’d made the right decision in signing the song away. As the final songs of the song drifted away, Jeff turned to Harry again. “So I’m guessing it’s a lady friend of yours from back in school and who you once played seven minutes in heaven with,” Jeff began, referencing the first verse of the song where Harry had written about first meeting you when you were kids. “Who you now find yourself in love with because she sings like a lark when she’s happy, leaves bobby pins all over the place, and makes you chocolate milkshakes when you’re sad.” 

Harry felt his cheeks heat up as Jeff named more details from elsewhere in the song, all things that pointed directly to your friendship with him. “My best friend from back in school. She just moved out here and we’ve been living together and...I don’t even really know what it is, if it was the time apart or if it’s different now that we’re older or because we’re living together. But yeah, I love her.” It was the first time Harry had said it out loud and it felt like a weight off his shoulders. 

“Have you told her yet?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m worried about ruining the friendship.” 

“Do you think she feels the same way?” 

Harry considered it, how you had let him hold you for far too long the night he first told you about selling the song, how you always made spinach for him as a side when you cooked even though you hated it, how much your hands brushed when he took you on tours of his favorite places in LA, if those were all just friendly gestures or if it meant something more. “Maybe? But she’s probably thinking the same thing about ruining the friendship.” Harry knew you well enough to know that you were a little too pragmatic sometimes when it came to relationships. 

“You should tell her.” Jeff regarded Harry with a serious look. “The second she hears the song she’s going to figure it out. The Heartbreaker’s last single was number one on the Billboard chart for six weeks and played on KIIS once an hour every day for a month after its release. You don’t want her finding out that her best friend is in love with her when she hears the song in Trader Joe’s. It’ll mean way more coming directly from you.” 

******* 

“Does this look okay? What do you even wear to a listening party anyway?” You asked, stepping in front of Harry and twirling around, letting him examine your dress. 

Harry gave you a quick once over. “What you’ve got on is fine. You look great.” 

The simple compliment sent a little rush of excitement through you, the saw way you felt when previous boyfriends had complimented you before you set out on a date. With you in your dress and Harry also dressed up, the two of you looked a bit like you were setting out on a proper date, but you stopped yourself from going down that line of thinking. There was no way to know if he felt the same way. You studied Harry instead, drinking in his slicked back hair, black shirt with the little white hearts on it, and black pants. Realizing that you were staring, you changed the subject. 

“You’re sure it’s okay if I come?” A listening party seemed like something so secret, something that only music industry people got to attend, like the parties the cool kids threw in high school. But Harry had seemed excited when he invited you along, even though he’d had to present you with an NDA at the same time and had told you not to bring your phone or it would be confiscated at the door. The listening party was for people from the label and was being held a few weeks before the official release of the single, and preventing leaks was essential, Harry had explained. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah. It’s gonna be real small. Just the band, some people from the label, me, and Jeff. All people who are already aware that they don’t write their own music.” Harry looked like there was something more he wanted to say, but instead he just pulled on his sport coat. “Ready?” 

Harry was quiet for the drive to the private club where the party was being held, letting one of his Spotify playlists play as he navigated LA’s busy streets. He didn’t speak until he found parking at the club. You reached for the door to exit the car, but froze when Harry said, “Wait.” You waited. Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “I just want you to know that the song is about you. I just want you to hear it, knowing that, and tell me what you think after.” 

You wanted to press for more information. That was incredibly vague, and if anything it just left you with more questions. But Harry was nervous enough, you could tell from the way he’d adjusted his hair several times during the drive and the fact that he was avoiding eye contact with you now. Not wanting to stress him out anymore, you decided not to push it. You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, ignoring how natural it felt. Maybe it was just the dim lighting from the streets lights, but you could have sworn that Harry was blushing. “I’m sure I’ll love it. I mean, writing a song about me is already nicer than anything any of my ex-boyfriend have done.” You realized a few seconds too late that maybe comparing your best friend to your exes wasn’t the best move. “And everything else you’ve written has taken my breath away. I’m sure this won’t be any different.” You added, trying to cover the awkward moment. 

Harry turned to you, looking happier and more confident now. “Let’s go.” He walked around to your side of the car and opened the door for you, even taking your hand to help you out of the car. Because no LA party could really start without time for networking first, you spent the first part of the party following Harry around like a baby duckling as he made his rounds to talk to the band and the industry executives. You’d been a little worried that you would feel like a fish out of water, or worse that Harry would leave you by the bar and make the rounds on his own. Harry had never been the type to social climb, but you were fully aware of the fact that this was his biggest career opportunity yet, so you weren’t sure how he would react. But you were worried for nothing, because Harry kept you by his side the entire night, introduced you to everyone by name, and tried hard to include you in the conversation, even though you were so starstruck most of the night that you ended up feeling tongue tied. 

As someone from the label raised his voice to announce that they would be playing the song soon, Harry pulled you to a table and introduced you to Jeff. 

“Ah, the famous muse,” Jeff shook your hand before giving Harry a knowing look. “Harry’s told you about the song?” 

“Just that it’s about me. I haven’t heard it yet.” 

“You’re in for a treat.” He told you with a smile, shooting Harry another look. Before you had time to further ponder what was going on, a label executive's voice at the front of the room drew your attention as he introduced “Crave”. 

As the song played, you were blown away. Harry had written a beautiful song, and though you’d initially been worried about him giving the song away you had to admit that The Heartbreakers had done it justice. But what surprised you the most was that it was a love song, and every single word of the song pointed to you, to things you had Harry had done together or to your little idiosyncrasies. Harry loved you, and had for a while. 

As the final notes of the song faded away, Harry grabbed your hand and pulled you outside the club, clearly wanting whatever happened next to be just between the two of you. You stood bathed beneath a streetlight, with drunks exiting nearby clubs stumbling past you. “So, what’d you think?” Harry asked, smiling shyly at you. 

“Harry, I loved it. I love you.” You said, throwing your arms around him. Saying it felt so right, so natural, even though it was the first time you’d said those words to Harry. 

Harry slid his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. “I love you.” He said quietly, before he pressed his lips to yours for a kiss that had been a long time coming. 

[badass-at-fandoming]

OTP Meme

Grabbed from @robotslenderman. Thank you! I liked learning about Arturo and Olivia. :D

I felt like a little pick-me-up so I decided to do this. Thank you @brightstorm98 for suggesting Beckett and Sergio.

Beckett is Beckett. Sergio is my original Malkavian ghoul character. You can read about them in my fanfic series, A Kinder Universe. Sergio first briefly appears in “Bad Idea” is the star of “First Date,” and pops up again in “Bonpensiero Bloodline Remix.”

Quick n’ dirty: Sergio is a former Prince of Sicilian Mafia, who faked their death and became an Los Angeles fashion designer and ghoul to a Malkavian. Sergio uses he/they pronouns.

DISAGREEMENTS.

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Sergio. I kinda picture them as Dante’s Inferno with their temper. They run very hot, but their truest, purest anger is ice cold. That’s when bodies start dropping.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

I think it’s probably about even. It’s more of a “Maybe I should leave you be” sort of vibe. Both of them can recognize when it’s time to take a step back and cool off. Sergio would still let loose a couple invectives before leaving. Beckett more bottles it all up.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Unless it’s a case of “I’m going to do a suicide mission so you don’t have to,” neither would actually leave the relationship. But they’re both independent spirits in a loose polycule, so there are periods where they’re not together. Sometimes Sergio doesn’t want to go places. For example, Liberteria is awesome, but it’s a chock full of blood-hungry, stinky Brujah, so Sergio would rather stay in Casablanca and party. Sometimes Sergio wants to focus on a different relationship, such as them and Cesare. Sometimes the projects one of them embarks on are of an extremely personal nature, so space is granted. Example: Sergio has no clue that Beckett is paying off that Giovanni scumbag to not hurt Emma’s ghost. Only Anatole has one inkling about that.

Who trashes the house?

Sergio. Listen! The mess is part of the creative process! They’re designing the next big sensation in fashion! It will be the talk of Paris! Please don’t touch the fucking scissors; they’re the only decent sharp ones. I KNOW they’re in a slipper, but that is the only place for them.

though lol @ beckett having a house aldkfjalkjgl

Do either of them get physical?

I assume this means during an argument? Sergio has a bad(?) habit of kissing Beckett to prove a point, or encourage him to agree.

How often do they argue/disagree?

I feel I’m being terribly boring here. A normal couple amount?? They’re both adults. They hash things out. A hot button topic would be safety. On a dare, Sergio will rush in where angels fear to tread. Beckett disapproves when Sergio breaks into places without telling him beforehand. But it was easy as pie! They turned invisible, picked the locks, decapitated some patriarchs, and whallah, they have the artifact he wanted! Stop looking at them like that, you know we will be out of the country before those wraiths can snitch. Also: I took their fetters.

Another hot button would be their mutual stubbornness. Sergio will insist they have the best idea. Beckett will think he’s right. They butt heads, and Sergio’s not above playing dirty, which is a whole other problem.

Beckett would land in hot water with Sergio if he kept his heart closed off. Sergio is all about openness and feeling one’s feelings.

Who is the first to apologize?

Sergio. They are like EMOTIONS. Beckett is like “My plan is I will keep all my emotions locked in my chest, and, eventually, I’ll die.” Sergio is overt. Beckett is covert.

SEX.

Sergio is Beckett’s dom. Beckett goes to them when he wants to surrender.

Who is on top? Who is on bottom?

Beckett canonically says Bottom Rights

Any kinks?

Dom/submissive. Bondage. Leather. Bloodplay. Orgasm delay/denial. Nipple clamps.

You know when cats get overstimulated and they just lay there with their paws in the air? That’s Beckett after a session with Sergio.

Who has the strangest desires?

.It’s pretty strange that a Kindred of Beckett’s age is into sex at all, but it’s my AU and I do what I want. In my world, he’s a touch starved disaster.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Sergio. They’re the dom, and it’s a reward to touch them.

Sergio is a stone bisexual, which means they don’t like to be penetrated or have their genitals touched at all. I did this partly because I’m wary of writing a scene that depicts Sergio’s junk. An enby reader who identifies with Sergio might read that they have ABC, and the presence of ABC might trigger gender dysphoria. I want those readers to keep however they picture Sergio in their head. Overall, I also don’t like the cis reader tendency to await for an enby character’s genital reveal, in order to figure out “what they are really.” As if genitals had anything to do with gender.

I created Sergio because a)there needs to be more enby characters in Vampire and b)I need practice writing enby characters. I’m not nonbinary so I KNOW I’m going to mess something up. Nature of the game. There are plenty of strategies for writing sex with a nonbinary partner, but I’m not confident in my ability to do so as of yet. So, for the moment, Sergio keeps their pants on and orders Beckett around.

Is head ever in the equation?

Yes! Sergio will lick Beckett like a lollipop.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Sergio, haha. They spent a long chunk of their life living loose and fast in Hollywood.

Ever had sex in public?

HA! Yes.

Who moans the most?

Beckett, and Sergio loves to tease those noises out.

Who leaves the most marks?

Beckett. He’s delighted that he CAN leave marks on Sergio. His other lovers are Kindred, and they heal too quickly to leave a fantastic hickey.

Who is the more experienced of the two?

Depends on how one defines experience. Beckett has had more lovers. Sergio has notably better technique.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

They and other characters refer to them as “sessions.”

How long do they usually last?

Hmm...probably depends on what they’re doing. I think it would average out to about an hour? Maybe two hours? Four hours at the longest. 10 minutes at shortest.

Rough or soft?

[Lady Gaga’s “I Like It Rough” starts playing in the background]

Is protection used?

Now that I think about it...that’s probably a good idea. They don’t have to worry about pregnancy, but STIs are a pain. The AIDS crisis is freaking dicey and utterly terrifying.

Does it ever get boring?

No. It becomes familiar. Comforting and warm. As easy to slip into as a daydream.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

I haven’t written any strange places yet. Making out in an open alley during the 1940s was certainly dangerous. End of the world or no.

FAMILY.

Do they plan on having children/or have children?

Nope. Sergio isn’t interested in acquiring children, and Beckett wrote off having children long ago. Sergio is happy to be the immortal cousin to the Garcia family. The Garcia’s are a human family their regnant, Cassandra, takes care of.

Sergio knows how to care for a child, in the casual way one acquires when living under the same roof as one. To Beckett, children are more foreign, and he’s extremely worried that he’ll accidentally hurt them. That being said, put a baby in his hands and, after the initial nerves pass, he absolutely melts.

If so, how many children do they want/have?

n/a

AFFECTION.

Who likes to cuddle?

Both! I’m a sucker for cuddlebug characters.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Sergio. They initiate a lot of the casual affection.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves?

Once he gets going, Beckett.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Depends. Sergio is human, so there’s varying tolerance for how cold Beckett is. Sergio is the one who gets uncomfortable though.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

murder Going on Noddist adventures!

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Bed. Do you know how cozy bed is

SLEEPING.

Who snores?

Sergio, as the one who has to breathe.

If both do, who snores the loudest?

Sergio.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Depends. They like snoozing together, but they’re not always in the same place.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

They’ll cozy up temporarily, but the need to get into an actual comfortable position for sleep will pull them apart.

What do they wear to bed?

Nightgowns. Both of them grew up wearing those to sleep.

Are either of them insomniacs?

Beckett has a God-ordained sleep schedule, so moon’s out, Beckett’s out. Sergio is variable. They have depression, so sometimes they’re asleep like 12 to 16 hours a day. Other times, when their brain is providing the serotonin, Sergio will push themself to stay up at all hours. During “First Date,” Sergio is awake all day doing work and stays up all night to smooch Beckett.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Beckett has picked Sergio up, laid them on the bed, and squished them until they fell asleep. That’s all the help to snooze Sergio needs.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Like I said above, they’ll wrap around each other for a bit, but eventually straighten out and just lay beside each other.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Both! Beckett more.

Who wakes up first?

Sergio, most like. Being an Elder, Beckett usually wakes up an hour or two after sunset.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

If he’s feeling especially mother hen-ish, Beckett will bring Sergio breakfast in bed. Whenever Sergio is in bed, there’s breakfast for Beckett.

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Sergio likes to snuggle up to Beckett. When Beckett needs a lot of reassurance, he may put his head on Sergio’s chest to listen to the sounds of their living body.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Sergio will set alarms to rouse themself at the appropriate The Vampires Are Up(TM) time

Who has nightmares?

Both, though rarely.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

Life with Beckett is a life on the road. Motels will have TVs so yes. In Sergio’s bedroom in LA or Beckett’s airplane? No.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

Beckett. He has the more bizarre connection to the Cobweb.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

Neither of them are bed hogs, but I guess Beckett? He’s bigger.

Who makes the bed?

They each make their own sides of the bed.

What time is bed time?

Dawn.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

Cuddles!

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Sergio can be grumpy or frustrated, but that’s not as much as an Emergency Alert if Beckett wakes with a hungry Beast.

WORK.

Who is the busiest?

Beckett, as he has a never-ending trot across the globe.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Sergio. By virtue of them actually having a steady trust fund and investment portfolio, plus any clothes they design and sell under a false name.

Beckett is like #FreelancerLife and leaves notes on museum doorsteps asking if they want this 400 year old piece of pottery and the curators are like sir what the fuck

Are any of them unemployed?

Nope

Who takes the most sick days?

Sergio, by virtue of ability to get seriously ill and more prone to injury. Beckett can only suffer from the Withering.

What are their jobs?

Beckett is a Noddist scholar, anthropologist, and archeologist. Sergio is fashion designer.

Who sucks up to their boss?

I guess the closest thing either has to a boss is Cassandra, as Sergio’s regnant. They will flatter her to the stars and back.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

They’re both likely to be delayed by complications. Complications such as assassins, traffic, angry Kindred officials, mascara not cooperating etc etc.

Who stresses the most?

Beckett. He worries a lot.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

They’re both in love with what they do.

Are they financially stable?

This is fantasy fiction so of course they are. I have enough money troubles irl.

HOME.

Who does the washing?

Most of the places they live (like motels) have a dedicated maid service, so it would be a mix of Sergio, Beckett, and the professionals.

Who takes out the trash?

Ditto to above.

Who does the ironing?

Sergio! They find it soothing.

Who does the cooking?

Also Sergio! Beckett is fascinated and regrets that he didn’t have the chance to eat Italian food while he was alive.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

BECKETT NO

Who is messier?

Like a messier eater? Beckett, because blood stains are pain. He is very neat, but when he does fuck up, ugh.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

No one, what the heck

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Both of them. Sergio is fussy with clothes when they’re wearing them, but is more lack when it comes to taking clothes off. Ideally, the outfit lands in the hamper, but sometimes one is too tired or preoccupied with kissing.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Dude, what, no.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Beckett: Sergio, my dear...why is the car making a horrendous beeping noise.

Sergio: My God, that is awful--oh, I see, it thinks you have stolen it.

Beckett: wha--the car is mine!

Sergio: And this is what happens when you break into your own car

Who answers the telephone?

Both of them have their own cell phones. They could pick up a call for the other if the other is preoccupied, but it depends on what the caller ID says.

Who mows the lawn?

Neither of them knows how.

Who does the vacuuming?

Ditto for the other cleaning questions. Sergio vacuums more than Beckett because vacuums hurt my ears and I don’t even have super senses.

Who does the groceries?

Sergio, because they eat. If Sergio asks and gives Beckett a list, Beckett will go.

Who takes the longest to shower?

Beckett. He likes to stand in the warmth and soak.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Sergio because makeup is awesome.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Is money a problem?

Nope.

How many cars do they own?

Neither of them own cars. They rent ones when they travel. Beckett has a jet.

What’s their song?

I haven’t found one yet. “I Like It Rough” by Lady Gaga is my best guess.

I do have a Beckett playlist here and I associate Sergio with “Que Sera, Sera” by Doris Day, “Crying Lightening” by the Arctic Monkeys, “Gangster’s Paradise” cover by Postmodern Jukebox, and the “Careless Whisper” cover by Postmodern Jukebox.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

They globe-trot, but Sergio’s “home base” is in LA.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Hotel and motel bills oh no! Or they rough it.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Yes! Sergio and Beckett love traveling.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

When Beckett is off adventuring with someone else, Sergio follows their other passions. They design new outfits, romance their other partners, adore their fish, try new beers, help Zelde build her inventions, and generally lives their life.

Where did they first meet?

LA. Read it here, but again it’s more a cameo.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

LOL Sergio.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Sergio is more likely to flash their cash to get what they want. Or flash Beckett’s prestige FOR Beckett. “Do you know who this is? This is the Beckett, scholar and the smartest man you will ever meet. He has thought more thoughts than you have in your entire pathetic life. So why don’t you run along to your little Elysium and tell your Keeper to let us in.”

Any mental issues?

As a Malkavian ghoul, Sergio has a lighter version of the Clan bane. They have depression. It’s the type where one has periods of low moods.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

It’s hilarious when Beckett trips.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

No, haha.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Neither mind the spiders. Sergio would kill a spider in a silly, dramatic fashion to make Beckett laugh.

Do they have any fears for their future?

Oh yeah. Beckett’s fears are more the personal, about the future of those around him. Besides the obvious of their regnant dying, Sergio worries are broader, about USA and global politics, cultural changes, justice etc.

Their favourite place?

No place is better than a lover’s arms.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Sergio will surprise Beckett by spiking their blood with something interesting. Like, they will tell him before he drinks, but Beckett didn’t plan on experimenting with acid.

Who pays the bills?

Beckett tries to, but Sergio is more likely to pay things off.

Who’s the tallest?

They’re the same height.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

No, they’d ask permission first.

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Sergio, haha. Beckett automatically gets dressed every night.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Neither of them are real singers, but Sergio is more likely to be caught humming.

What do they tease each other about?

Beckett will tease Sergio about their recklessness and cosmopolitan ways. Sergio will tease Beckett about his fashion sense and disaster bi ways.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Sergio spends a lot of their first date roasting Beckett’s outfit.

Who crushed first?

Sergio. It’s subtle, but Beckett has to slowly remind himself that ghouls are people over the course of “Bad Idea” and “First Date.” It’s like a compassion muscle that he has to limber up.

Any alcohol or substance-related problems?

Sergio is addicted to vampire blood. Cassandra’s specifically.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Hahahaha, probably Sergio? They get drunk WAY easier. If Sergio and Beckett are hanging out, Sergio will likely give Beckett a sip, which means Beckett will be drunk too.

Who swears the most?

We’re beginning and ending this with Sergio swearing, hahaha,

[starrysebastians]

painkillers and something more [one shot]

pairing : bucky barnes x reader

summary : lingering glances and subtle touches are fine, but all it takes is a little injury to turn whatever this is into something more

a/n : listen this one shot wasn't planned but i'm on antibiotics and painkillers right now and instead of letting myself die i wrote this . so basically hurt and comfort and fluff to end my suffering (mentions of injury)

word count : 1.8k

When the end credits of the movie he was watching ended and he didn't have the will to get up from his comfy position on the couch to grab the other remote and turn the TV off, so James Barnes is currently facing a beaming blue screen — has been for at least a whole hour. It makes a buzzing sound he has now gotten used to, because he kinda likes having a background noise to avoid facing the deep and abyssal silence being awake in the middle of the night always brings. Tonight wasn't particularly plagued with nightmares, but the previous ones, and months of recons and missions have messed up his sleeping schedule enough for him to finally take Sam's advice and watch the numerous movies he recommended him to catch-up on the 21st century culture.

His eyes are now focused on a book, one he found lying on a table, the bookmark next to it rather than in between the pages so he figured the person reading it was done. There's a shuffling coming from the hall that makes him perk up, the book closing on the finger he put between the pages.

Muffled voices, a groan, and it's getting closer.

"C'mon, let's get you on the couch. I'll get you your meds." Bucky identifies it as Sam's voice, although it is softer than it usually is when he's joking around, lighter than it is over the coms during a mission. It has the same he uses when he tries to comfort someone after innocent bystanders were a mission's collateral damages, or when Wanda has a nightmares. "Here."

The ceiling lamp flickers on, making the little reading lamp next to Bucky's couch useless. Even when he is wide awake, he usually likes staying in the dark when it's nighttime. It helps with schedules and not getting completely disoriented, seeing the sky go from purple and pink to dark blue splattered in white dots to soft orange and light blue. Artificial lightning all night long just messes with your mind.

Shifting in his seat so that he can turn his head and observe the hall leading to the living room — more like a living floor, by the way, he frowns upon you and Sam. Rather, Sam holding you by the waist, walking ever so slowly as if you were gonna collapse as soon as he let you go. Bucky stands up straighter, a million questions popping up in his head — were you on a mission? no, you had one that lasted longer than usual because Fury needed you and you returned two weeks ago, and all you did the past few days was help run recon, collect intel… nothing to get hurt over.

He and Sam share a look, and he's not quite sure what that expression on his face is.

"Here. Just lie down," Sam says with his soft voice again as you tumble on the couch, hands on the leather to steady you as you try and lay down as gently as possible. "I'll be right back." Another pointed look at Bucky, and this time he slowly rises from his seat, taking two hesitant steps.

It's not that you and him are not close — in fact, he would say you're one of the persons he likes the most here. You work with SHIELD, but also with them, it depends on the missions and he likes how you're free to work with any organisation you like. You're independent, and not often in the compound. He enjoys watching you work and fight because you're so skilled it's impressive for a normal, non-enhanced human being, but maybe it's just everything about you he deems worthy of being stared at all day long.

There has been different moments shared. Unwinding times in comfortable silence and missions aftermaths, bundled up in soft blankets in the living room or numbly sitting in the quinjet as it flew back towards the compound. Briefing sessions, some with too many things at stake to share a joke, others where you both shared smirks and twinkling looks. One where you accidentally bumped your leg against his, that time Steve was explaining how you were going to take down a weapon-dealing business, which is a pretty easy task for all of you, and you decided your leg was going to stay right here. You even made the wise decision of hooking your feet around his leg, the warmth emitting from your tangled legs making Bucky bite his lip in order to stop a smile from breaking out on his face. You didn't hide yours.

There are also times when you don't get to bump into each other for months. Exhausting months when you both are on missions, deep down undercover — especially you, because the winter soldier's face, albeit masks and tricks existing, is well-known, contrary to yours which has been well-protected by every intelligence agency you have served. During those months, sometimes you're scared he's going to forget about you and your fleeting glances ; he's scared you're too busy with work for him to ever cross your mind. And you never really talk, you both just flirt and smirk and wink and sometimes it feels like it has to evolve into something more, but it has always been enough.

But you're currently moaning from pain on the couch right next to him and his face hurts from frowning so hard.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Another two steps (strides) towards you, a hesitant hand hovering next to you, not knowing where to go to provide comfort without hurting you further. You turn your head toward the sound of his voice, painfully, and squint as if everything was blurry.

"Hi," you drawl out, a lazy smile on your face. "I missed you."

A flutter in the stomach, a soft and content sigh.

"I missed you too. What happened? I thought you didn't have any mission coming up?"

"I didn't," you say and he frowns. "Remember that undercover mission where I got shot last month?" He nods and you wince before continuing. His gaze falls on your hip, because he remembers that gunshot, a bit too well. "Well, maybe I didn't really follow the doctor's orders. I mean, I did. I just got back to work too early. But it wasn't that deep. Like a flesh wound. But, anyway." Another wince. "Turns out it got a little infected. So I'm back on antibiotics and painkillers for a week."

It physically hurts him too, to see your glazed and glossy eyes, constant frown and lips turned downwards, but he still chuckles at your rambling, and the fact that you couldn't stand to stay on bed rest for more than two days. He crouches down next to you, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes because you've been trying to get rid off it for the past minute by blowing air on it, but it just doesn't work.

"Yeah well please try and listen, next time," Sam's voice is back, and you just know he rolled his eyes. The sound of boxes and a glass clinking against the table can be heard, and he lays a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Here's the doctor's prescription. Antibiotics, painkillers, water. She probably won't sleep tonight." He crouches down too, a hand resting on her forearm. "I'm gonna let Tin Man here keep you company, alright? If I don't wake up for training tomorrow, Steve is gonna have my head."

You hum distractedly as you watch Bucky fumble with the prescription and meticulously prepare your pills, tongue stuck out as his blue eyes are squinted. Cleaning out his weapons probably doesn't require as much attention and care, and you can't help but laugh at his expression. A super-soldier, being able to aim at an enemy's head without even sparing him a glance, but putting so much effort into getting your meds right, and it makes your chest swell with something you can't quite place, but it's warm, definitely warm. Burning. He perks up at the sound of your laugh, only to send you a glare, and then a few seconds later he proudly hands you the right amount of pills.

"Thank you," you say with a smile, a hand lingering a bit too long on his skin. He helps you get propped up against the cosy and snug cushions and while you take your meds, he's busy finding you a soft and fluffy blanket, resting it on top of you.

"Here." He's sitting next to you again, leaning more and more every time you let a groan escape your lips.

"Would you mind knocking me off so I can sleep?"

An amused chuckle but a fond movement of the head, from left to right.

"You weren't sleeping?" You talk again.

He shakes his head again. "Nah. I was catching up on Sam's movie recommendation list."

"Can you put something on?"

It takes you ten minutes to decide on Blade Runner, and in fear of hurting you, he slides down against the couch again, his head thrown back a little and you can see his face if you look down, the colors displayed on the TV screen dancing across his soft and tired features. He's just so pretty.

You extend your left arm, and it is dangling from the couch, fingers softly brushing Bucky's shoulders. Scratching his neck, his ear. Running through his shiny locks, the smell of his shampoo invading your senses. He cranes his neck backwards to get a better look at you, and he notices your smile and the glinting in your eyes from upside down. You hum as his flesh hand grab yours, thumb stroking your skin. He lets it rest on his shoulder again, putting his attention back to the movie playing in front of him.

It takes another twenty minutes of gentle fingers running on his skin, insistent staring at his neck, back muscles, hair and shoulders, for you to talk again, painkillers having kicked in.

"Please come and lie with me. You're not gonna hurt me," your voice can't compete with the fight scene on screen, but you're leaning right next to his ear, and if he doesn't move for a second, he certainly heard you. "Hold me?"

This is the something more you have both been yearning for. There wasn't any moment that was right before, but this one is.

It takes a few minutes for the two of you to find a position that doesn't hurt your hip, lots of groans and painful winces. But then you're lying between his legs, back resting against his toned abdomen, head nestled in the crook of his neck with strands probably tickling his skin but he doesn't say anything because he likes the smell of your shampoo too, and he's warmer than the blanket.

That something more, the next step in a dynamic based on small smiles across the quinjet and subtly tangled legs, is going to have to wait until you don't have to ingest the highest dose of painkillers humanly possible to move without wincing, but it is there. Hanging in the air, waiting to be seized. In the way Bucky holds you, runs the back of his flesh hand up and down your arm, and softly kisses your neck.

[bthenoise]

Q&A: Hear How Frank Iero Wants You To Become The Future Violents With Third Solo LP ‘Barriers’

All photos by Julius Aguilar

When you think of Frank Iero, we’re sure a lot of things come to mind. He’s a musician, he’s a dad, he’s an active user on Twitter. What most people might not realize is that Frank Iero is a huge music fan -- like, the guy knows way more about things you didn’t even know existed in the first place.

For example, take a certain guitar used by a late-60′s early-70′s band called The Wrecking Crew. Frank, being the musical factoid that he is, was able to spurt out knowledge dating back years from a recent documentary he had watched. Knowing this, we knew we had to take the former My Chemical Romance member to Arizona’s approximately 200,000 square-foot Musical Instrument Museum.

There, Frank and Noise contributor Jimmy Smith were able to walk the halls, discover instruments dating back to the 1800′s and discuss the upcoming Frank Iero And The Future Violents record Barriers. 

For a glimpse into the knowledgable and insightful hang out, which also dove deep into Frank’s life-changing car accident between a city bus and his tour van, be sure to look below. Afterward, make sure to pre-order Frank’s forthcoming LP Barriers before it hits stores May 31st via UNFD.   

Alright, so maybe the easiest or the hardest question I’ll ask you all day: What was the best thing you saw here at the Musical Instrument Museum?

Oh man, Tommy Tedesco’s [Telecaster]. That was unreal. I had no idea that [they] had that here. Like, I’ve seen documentaries on The Wrecking Crew and you learn about the incredible players they all were and how many songs that particular guitar has been on that you wouldn't even know. And just to kind of see it sitting there, it's like, “Wow.”

Were there any out-of-the-box instruments you would want to get on a record of yours?

That's the thing. Any chance you have to get an instrument in your hands and try to learn the inner workings of it and what kind of sound you can get out of it, that stuff's amazing. I like to sometimes try to take a step back and approach it from a side I don’t know and think about like, “How would I think of this instrument if I had never seen anyone else play it before? Like, how would I get a sound out of it that I’ve never heard?” And that’s kind of fun.

What do you think is the most unique instrument you've actually used on a record?

Well, early on in the My Chem days, a theremin was on [a record] but it's definitely not like one [that’s noticable]. Because it was just really a bit of a little sprinkle on top. That's an odd one to play. On this next record that we're releasing at the end of May, there's a song on Barriers called “Basement Eyes.” I wanted church bells, I wanted the chorus to have this Phil Spector kind of vibe with like percussion and almost like that feeling you get when you listen to The Crystals. “And Then He Kissed Me,” that kind of thing. So we rented this piano -- I guess, you’re not going to be able to see this reading this -- but it's like a desktop kind of thing, like maybe three-and-a-half feet tall, not a lot of keys and maybe an octave and a half. It's called a Viber-Charm and they sold it to churches that didn't have a lot of money and didn't have the pipe organ sort of church bells and they can play different things on this keyboard. And I mean, it had to be from like the 50s. [It had] braided cables, everything looked like it was going to catch on fire at any moment. And that made a resounding sound on that song. That's how we achieved that.

So obviously with every record you do you want to spice it up and do things differently. What else did you bring to the table this time around aside from adding new members?

Well, this was this is a fun one to do because I was able to really chase tones that I wanted to get. Usually, you don't have a lot of time in a studio, especially when you're a smaller artist or self-funding and stuff like that. [Usually,] you’re going into the studio with, you know, say 17 days or two weeks or something like that and you're trying to get 12 to 14 songs out. This record, we did 17 days and we did 17 songs. Steve Albini is the one that engineered this record. He’s just such a master of his craft. And I mean, he’s the only person that you work with that doesn't have any help, it’s just him in the studio. No ones there. Like someone goes and gets coffee sometimes. Other than that, like no one touches a microphone or anything. Like, he sets up everything himself. He's at the board. He does edits on tape, of course, it's like straight two-inch tape. You need someone that is so unbelievably versed in their craft to be able to make that time work. And we mixed in that amount of time as well.  

Wow. Did you enjoy having that kind of time crunch?

[Laughs] There's definitely a picture of me [and] the whole band at the end of the session I posted on my Instagram. I look like someone that is like, “Oh my god, I can't believe we finished this.” And yeah, I mean, it's hard. You sleep at the studio too. So you record [all day] and then you can go in after hours and work on stuff. But like, you're there a lot and it's the second time in my life that I had an episode of sleep paralysis. Like, one of the nights, I woke up and my brain had woken up first but my body didn't. And I was like, “Oh no!” It's the scariest experience ever. So I was definitely stressed. But we got it done.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by frnkiero (@frankieromustdie) on Mar 29, 2019 at 2:06pm PDT

Did the sleep paralysis affect any of the songs at all? Did it make you think differently about your lyrics maybe?

No [laughs]. Like, I've had it twice. Once it happened, I was in My Chemical Romance at the time, and I don't know if we were recording but I was definitely stressed out. And I didn't know what it was. And that [time] was like, “Oh man, there must be” -- I was in a hotel, I was like, “This must be haunted.” Like, immediately I went to that because it feels like someone's pushing you down and you can't move at all but you're fully awake and aware that you can't move and that's why it’s so scary. The second time it happened during this recording, I woke up and I was on my side, and I remember being like, “Oh no, it's happened again” [laughs].

The ghost found you!

[Laughs] Yeah! The ghost found me! Like, “Oh great, he’s followed me now.” But I heard this -- it almost felt like a laser starting from the top my head and going all the way down and I heard “zzzzzzzzzzz” like I was being scanned. It was crazy. And then when it finally got to my feet, [snaps] I woke up. I was able to come out of it and I immediately Googled it like “What the fuck is this?!” So I saw this sleep paralysis thing that said sometimes when your brain wakes up before your body, you can carry through a dream that you're having. So if you're having a nightmare, you'll see things from your nightmare and that’s why people think it's like, “Oh no, it's a demon holding me” and it freaks you out. But it's like, “Oh my god” [laughs].

So just talking about the people you brought in for this record, some of them you’ve known for a very long time. Like Tucker Rule, for example. What is it like to get to play in a band with him?

Oh, man, it's a dream come true. Like Matt [Amrstrong] too, I've known both of those guys since maybe 2000 or 2001. I saw them play in respected bands that I thought were just unreal. I mean, Thursday was one of the greatest live bands, and still is, that I've ever seen. And I remember being like, “Wow, I would love to play with Tucker.” And I got to play with Tucker later on in the 2000s when our drummer from My Chem Bob [Bryar] got sick and had to go home. I think Tucker came in for an Australian tour and that was really awesome. He was fantastic. I mean, he's a fantastic drummer it was great to play with him. But I remember being like, “I wish I could write songs with him.” Like he's playing parts that someone else wrote. And that's always weird. It's almost like putting on your dad’s suit. Like, you could look good in it but you're never going to look like it's yours. 

So I was like, “Wouldn't it be cool to be able to write songs with this guy?” And then Matt, he was in a band called Murder By Death. And I remember them when they were Little Joe Gould. And they came into the Eyeball [Records] family through Tucker and Thursday. And I remember being like, “Wow, I thought Thursday was good. Like, holy shit, this band is unreal!” And I mean, there was completely different instrumentation. Of course, there was a cello player and keyboard player and just the things that they were doing, I think let everyone in our little microcosm know it's not just about “I got these four chords, I'm gonna write this song.” It's like, “You should and can do so much more.” And I think that kind of blew the doors off for everybody and that's when we started to really take it seriously and try to get better. I remember thinking like, “Oh man, how cool would it be to be in a band with that guy? That kid can play.”

So is it kind of weird to think in a weird way you’re sort of their boss since it’s your band?

It's weird to be in that position because I never wanted that. I've always had bands and always started bands and ended up in that position because I was the one that started it or no one else wanted to do that job so it was like, “Alright. Well, someone's got to do it, so I guess I'll do it.” But I very much love that idea of a community being like, “Alright, we're all in this together. We all have equal say.” I like the writing process of that where you bounce ideas off of each other.

So it was collaborative writing with all the members for this project?

For this one, a lot of the songs started just in my head and that's kind of how this solo project has gone. But on this record in particular, because I think we had such high caliber musicians, two songs started with ideas that my brother Even Nestor had. And two songs, one of which made the record, started with Matt. So that was a kind of a thing like, “Hey, I have this riff. Do you think we could use it?” And we would jam out on it and all of a sudden it’s a song.

Do you have a favorite song on the record?

I do [laughs].

Which one is it?

It's called “Medicine Square Garden.” It was one of those where I wrote it, had it in my head and I was like, “This is going to be really difficult to explain to someone how this song is supposed to go.” And it's either going to work or it's not. It's going to be one of those things where if it doesn't work, I'm going to be bummed because I think it's really good but I need people to like -- I don't think I could have done it with anybody else other than this bad. It's crazy. It's one of those songs that I really took a leap of faith on. And since it did pay off and it is still one of my favorite songs, I feel like that's how I knew it it was a successful record.

Getting to hear the record early, it’s interesting that after your accident, you could have gone two ways with how you wrote it: Angry and pissed off at the world or calm and just looking to get back to basics. Was that something you considered when writing Barriers?

Well I think for me, having that accident, I knew I couldn't write a record without addressing it because it was such a huge moment in my life and it changed everything. I knew I'm a different person because of it. And there was this huge elephant in the room that I knew I had to talk about and I had to address it and it had to be, if not a focal point of the record, it had to be -- just, it was there within everything I was writing so I needed something to be dedicated to it. But everything I started to write about just didn't feel right. Like I didn't feel like I was getting everything out the way you do, there's so much to say. And the words just weren't there. I would write something and be like, “that doesn't sum it up.” It's hard to sum up a life-changing experience like that. So that was kind of my wall that I had. And I didn't think I was going to be able to do a record. That's why too I was like, “You know, I'm just gonna take some time.” And it just so happened that Tucker ended up being free. Matt became free. Evan was free and then, Kayleigh Goldsworthy, who's the fifth member of the band. And that's when I was like, “Oh man, this is a sign. It’s like now or never. If I don't write the songs, then I'm gonna miss out.” So then all of a sudden, it all started to come out and this song called “Six Feet Down Under” emerged. And it's basically just my conversation with my therapist of trying to explain how I'm feeling and like, “I know you're trying to help and the things you're saying are very nice and they come from a good spot and I know you're really smart and that's really awesome but like it doesn't mean anything [laughs] if I can't believe that this is all real.” And getting that across, I think really opened the floodgates for me to be able to finish everything else.

Have you had a wall like that in your songwriting career before?

That was a huge one.

Was there anything similar to that previously?

Minor things. You know, there's some childhood things that you have a hard time fully grasping until you get older. Like the divorce of my parents and things of that nature, like trying to make sense of all that. Family, addiction and certain things that I went through. But nothing like this one, because I feel like this was -- it's weird. Childhood trauma evolves. You know, you start to see different sides of things and you've had the time -- there are some people that say “You have your entire life to write your first record” and then you have like maybe six months to write your second basically. With this one, it was still so fresh. And [the accident] happened to me in my adulthood. It happened at a time where I kind of felt like -- like, I had a family. I thought I had things figured out. And immediately [snaps] everything changed.

It shook you up a little.

Yeah, absolutely. I feel like at 25 you go crazy. 30 you're like, “Alright, I'm okay with not knowing everything.” Around 35 you’re like, “Well, I'm starting to get my shit together. And then you get hit by a bus” [laughs]. And you're like, “Oh man, I know nothing again.”

Okay, so then just wrapping up. I was wondering if your three band names -- the Cellabration, the Patience, and The Future Violents -- have any sort of connection?

So the Cellabration was, in my head, it was my first time as a solo artist and I didn't feel comfortable in that role so I wanted to bring along something that felt boisterous and exciting so that would take away from my, you know, like, “It’s just me up here. It’s weird” [feeling]. And I spelled it differently because I like the idea of it being like a cellular thing, like this building block of life and it's going to start from here and evolve and grow and change. So that's where that came from. The Patience was me kind of getting over the idea that I needed something to take away from me. I really wanted something that would kind of even me out and just that self-fulfilling prophecy of bringing this virtue along where you kind of take a step back and appreciate the now. I've spent so much time like, “What's next, what's next? Alright, this tour is going, alright, cool. I'm gonna get home here and then when I'm home, the next tour I’m going to do is this.” And it's like, you live so fast that you don't appreciate what's actually happening. And I don't want that.

And then this time around, The Future Violents, I started to think about how life is kind of this -- it's like you're staring at a lake and you can passively take it all in and see the things swimming underneath and maybe how the wind kind of takes the current. And we do that sometimes, we live vicariously through other people and sometimes, you know, just having it be serene is nice. And then the “active” way to live by is to kind of pick up a stone on the side and throw it in and see the ripples that go on and really affect it. And I think that act is a violent act that disrupts things [but] doesn't have to necessarily have a negative connotation. You know, it's about leaving a footprint and changing things and being conscious enough to want to disrupt what's there and hopefully in a positive way and see that ripple go on and affect other people and like bellow out. So, collectively, I'd like to think that the band and the people that are listening to this record are The Future Violents, the ones that go out and create a change and hopefully listen to this record that we've made -- a record that I used to break down these walls and barriers that I had set up -- and use it to destroy their own barriers and go out there and do things that scare the fuck out of you. Because that's the only time that we do something really wonderful is when we're so frightened that we're not going to do it right. And that's the best part.

[gotboredwrote]

Chapter 5: Tested

[[The American Publicist // JRD]]

Pairing: John Richard Deacon x Reader Word Count: 5.4K Style: Multi-Chapter Warnings: Mental health stuff (panic attack, clinical tests mentioned but not explained) Summary: Y/N was just hired to become a co-manager and publicist for the band Queen. The boys had never travelled abroad, so meeting an American was . . . intriguing, to say the least. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: Welcome back to the emotional roller-coaster! I hope you’re ready to ride again! Also, in an effort to get this out, there might be a few grammar errors I did not catch, sorry!

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter // Masterpost

~

Neither of you did anything productive Sunday. Come on – who would have been able to? The events of the private concert were swimming through your heads. The words of the song. The tension in the air.

And in your bodies. You tended to reserve this word for other  matters, but that was the most euphoric experience you had had in a long time. And you felt like you could say that, since it has been quite a while since the other event happened to you. John was in a similar position, except that he went home and took care of business. All while he was thinking about you. You were lying in bed Sunday night, still reeling from the events the day before. You were just trying to work on the paperwork you had neglected the day before, when you were startled by a phone call. It was 10:30pm, who could possibly be calling you?

“Hello?”

“Y/N? It-it’s me, love.”

You heart never starting beating so fast in your life.

~

“Hi Deaks, everything okay?”

“Um, yeah. I was just thinking about you-yesterday. What… happened yesterday.”

“Mhm?” You were getting shaky. You had no idea where he was going with this.

“I want to show the boys that song, and I wanted to ask you to do me a favor. Could you try and… react a certain way when you hear it again? I don’t really know how to put this, but can you maybe, try…acting like you have never heard it? The lads only know that I took you back to the studio to show you something, but they have no idea it was a song. Kind of want to surprise them.”

You could not really explain why, but you felt your heart crack a little bit. Were you hoping he would say something else? Something like “oh I feel the same way about you as you do me?” Again, this is real life, not fantasy. People do not magically fall for each other. Wishful thinking. You know for a fact he felt something when he wrote that song, you could see it in his body language when he performed it. And it was not just nerves getting the best of him. Something was going on in his mind when those words came to him, and you knew that it had nothing to do with you. You were not going to let yourself go down that road any more than you already had. It was a mistake to fall for him. You were just hoping it would go away eventually. You could not help but laugh at your own comment in your head.

“Yeah, John. I can do that. Anything for you.”

“Thank you, love.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“8:30am love, looking forward to it. Goodnight.”

“Night, John.”

You had just made a promise you could not keep. How were you supposed to act like you had never heard the song before? After what it did to you? And to John? You were afraid he would not be able to keep the same promise he made you make.

~

The sound of your alarm going off at 6:00am was worse than normal. You loved going to see the boys, but dragging yourself out of bed was no easy task in the first place. You got up like you would any other morning, showered, and picked up some breakfast on the way to studio. You always tended to get there early, but today you were arrived a little late because there was an accident on the road you took. It must had just happened because the radio did not tell you about it before you left. Since you arrived late, you knew everyone would already be there. You just hoped that they did not wait for you to start doing anything. You waltzed through the door of the main building around 8:55am, and did your best to make it to the Queen section of the building by 9:00am, that way you would not hear a word from Miami. You opened the door to the control room, and everyone was in their rightful places. Miami was at the control table, and all the boys were warming up their instruments mindlessly. You looked through the pane to see if you could make eye contact with John, but he was not facing the window. You were taken out of your trance by the beckoning of your name.

“Y/N. So glad you could join us.”

“Please save it, Miami. I had a long night and there was an accident on my way here, you’re lucky I’m here now.”

“Sorry… I didn’t mean for that to come across that rudely.”

“It-it wasn’t. I was actually ruder than you were. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Well, good morning, darling! We missed your pretty face!”

You threw your head in the direction of the glass and were greeted by four smiling faces. Freddie was grinning ear to ear, Brian and Roger were just smiling sweetly at you, and John had on his… signature smile. He was already off to a much better start than you were.

“John just informed us,” Roger began, “that he brought a song for us to play! But he wanted us to wait until you were here like we did that first Monday. Are you okay with us getting started while you get situated?”

You nodded in his direction, and proceeded to prove to John that two could play at his game. You smiled widely at him, and even added a wave, to which he nodded in recognition. You turned around to place all your new paperwork where it needed to go, not realizing that a crucial portion of it was not in its rightful place. But you had more pressing things to pay attention to. The boys had seemed ready to play the second you walked in, so you were no longer going to keep them waiting. You sat down on the couch, looking eager, with a notepad and pencil in your lap. You gave the thumbs up and off they went. The only part you could pay attention to was the bassline. It was familiar, obviously, since you had heard it before. But it had seemingly wormed its way into a part of your heart that was not going to be ignored. You tried your best to hide it, because John was doing a seemingly flawless job at it, but your chest ached. It ached to be back in that spot on the floor. With John and John alone. Hearing his voice and not Freddie’s booming, operatic one. Sure, his voice was gorgeous, but it was nothing compared to the raw emotion that came out in John’s when he sang this song. His song. His dream girl’s song. You were furiously taking notes so you did not have to look into the booth, you could not risk taking the chance of revealing something. The song was coming to a close and you had written down as much as your hand could handle. You pried your eyes away from your paper and looked up into the booth and your worst nightmare came true. You were met with the eyes of the one person who could screw up your cover. John’s. You immediately swallowed the breath you did not realize you had been holding in and gave him a sweet smile. Except you thought he was looking at your smile. When in reality he was looking at your neck. The necklace. You were still wearing the necklace. In fact, you had not taken it off. It brought you an intense amount of comfort after that evening, thinking about what John went through and what he did for you that night. It was your most cherished possession. You managed to keep yourself collected throughout the song, but as soon as John saw the glint of your necklace… He faltered. He knew the bassline at heart. He knew it Saturday night, so there was no reason he should not know it now. He messed up to the point where he messed up the rest of the band. Roger let out a groan, while Brian and Freddie just looked at him confusedly.

“You alright, mate?”

“Ye-yeah, just got a little bit fuzzy in the head for a second. I skipped breakfast, so… I’ll be alright.”

Roger looked at John with a secretive look, and John refused to look at him. Roger took that as his cue that those words were about a certain American acquaintance they had all come to know and adore. Their one-sided exchange was cut short when you piped up about your notes.

“That was an incredible song, John! I told you that you wouldn’t be in a band if you couldn’t write songs.” You looked at him endearingly, keeping up your end of the bargain much better than he was, considering he was starting to get red in the face. “Now I’m sure none of you noticed this and probably felt like I haven’t been doing my job, but I assure you I have! All the notes I took during the song, and all the other things I’ve written down during these sessions have all regarded where my brain went for the best way of promoting these songs. This isn’t an exhaustive list, but I have preferential choices for what order to release singles, what outfits to wear in photoshoots, the whole nine yards! As I was taking my notes, I realized that I left my big binder of notes in my car, and I’m sure Miami has some words for you boys,” you shot Miami a playful look, to which he chuckled in response, “so I will run out there super-fast and start coming up with some new ideas! Be back in a minute!”

What Y/N did not realize is that she had left her binder on the baby grand piano Saturday night during her private concert and was so mesmerized after the fact that she left it and did not realize it was not in her possession until just now. She had left the room before any of the boys noticed it sitting there, and her enthusiasm for what she had written peaked Brian, Roger, and Freddie’s interests. The only reason John was not paying attention to the binder at this point is because he was still trying to calm his breathing after seeing you wear the necklace. He was just pacing back and forth in a distance of about five feet, quietly plucking at the strings on his bass.

“I don’t know about you, blokes, but my interest was piqued when she mentioned outfits.”

The boys started to rummage through your papers, not realizing that there was an order to the way you had it set up. They also had no idea what was coming when you walked back into the room.

“I must seriously be having an off day. I must’ve left my binder at home because it isn’t in my car and I know-”

The three men crowded around the top of the baby grand stopped dead in their tracks, let the papers they were holding float back down to the piano, and watched you with intensity. Your eyes were as wide as saucers and some of the color had drained from your face. It was like you had just witnessed murder.

“Wha… why… why are my papers all-all over the place? Why did you go through them without asking me? Who gave you the right?” You breathing was beginning to get erratic, and you were thoroughly scaring all five men who were in the studio with you. “Why… why WHY?” And with that you started hyperventilating, nothing stopping the small streams of tears from cascading down your face. Your chest hurt. Different than the aching you had for John when they were playing. This was painful. You started feeling like you could not breathe, hence the hyperventilating. You felt faint and weak at the knees. What was happening to you? Why of all things did your papers being scattered do… whatever this was? Miami and the three at the piano simply stood completely still, completely unsure of what was happening or what to do. John had never moved faster. He quickly grabbed the sides of both of your shoulders, squeezed them, gently gets you to sit on the floor, and does everything he can to get your breathing back to normal, because even he knew there was no sense in trying to calm you down before you could breathe normally. He continually rubbed your shoulders, telling you “you’re okay, you’re perfect.” Anything that came to mind that he thought would bring your breathing back to normal. He considered it progress when your breathing calmed down enough to allow your body to be wracked with sobs, uncontrollable ones. At least now he felt like he could hold you close to him without your breathing stopping entirely. He held you, one arm snaked around your lower abdomen, hand wide and lightly gripping your side, the other clutching the back of your head to bring it down into the crook of his neck. He wanted you to feel protected. Protected from the evil feelings that were consuming your body at the moment. Eventually your sobs became sniffles, and you felt as though you could muster up the strength to talk to them. They were all looking at you expectantly, and still a little bit fearful.

“You all look, sniff, so scared right now. I’m so so-sorry. I don’t know what this even is but it has taken over my life. My brain and body don’t allow me to do anything with a sense of leisure or, or pleasure anymore. Sniff, everything has to be done in a particular way and if someone screws it up I… I can’t see straight, my hearing starts to go, my heart starts to beat so fast that it hurts, I feel like I’m gonna puke… I don’t know what to do.”

When John was at university, he had a couple of friends who were in the developing field of psychology, and from the few conversations he had overheard while they would study for their exams, he knew something was going on with your brain. And in that moment, right after you rambled on your apology to the boys, his emotions overflowed and he knew he was the only one who could take care of you.

“Lads, I think she needs a break for the day. C’mon love, you’re coming with me. I’m going to get you better, love.”

~

“Um, Deaky? Where exactly are we?” You asked him this because you and your favorite bassist were currently standing in front of a building that was completely unlike any building you had seen in the states or England.

“You’ll see, love. And when we get in there, if you start to freak out, I promise we can leave right away. I do think this will really help you, though.”

John could sense that you were still slightly on edge from the episode you had earlier, and there was a new wave hitting you now that you were in a new, scary environment. He pushed aside any feelings that threatened to resurface from the two “Misfire” performances that were still swirling through his body to take care of you. He reached for your hand to hold and squeeze it until you were separated from him, which he knew was coming, but you did not. You took his hand out of desperation for some grip onto familiarity, because you did not want to slip up again. He walks you over to a desk where a pleasant looking lady is seated, and she begins speaking to you in a sweet, quiet tone.

“Hello, you two. Welcome to the Mind Center of Central England. Did you have an appointment, or are you here for emergency or on-the-spot care?”

“On-the-spot, ma’am. My best friend just had an episode that involved a combination of tears, chest pain, and hyperventilating triggered by the sight of a well-organized binder of hers being scattered across a surface. I had a friend in college talk about places like these where you can administer some tests to see if there was a reason for her reaction, can you do that here?”

“Yes sir, we absolutely can. Let me go get all the paperwork and information you two need, and I will let a specialist know that there is someone here for testing. And sweetheart, I can see that you are tensing up every time I mention tests or doctors. Try to relax, nothing here is meant to hurt or scare you. We are only going to help, I promise, honey.”

“O-okay. Thanks.” She hit the nail on the head about how you were feeling. You had no idea what it was John was trying to accomplish here, and if you were not in a space where you felt like you needed to be respectful, you would probably be giving him an earful right about now. Not five minutes later, the lady from the desk returned with a short stack of papers that you assumed was a combination of information and papers asking you to sign your life away. You knew you were being dramatic, but John had not told you anything about what was about to happen, and frankly, it was kind of bothering you. Not that you were mad at him, but you were just kind of overwhelmed with the whole situation. You did not even know what happened before, and now you were in a place that you had never seen and did not know what was about to happen to you. And just as these thoughts were swimming through your mind you got to the part of the paperwork that stated no one but the patient was allowed in the back with you. John would have to leave your side. This was his idea, why did he have to leave? You and John are going over the paperwork and you’re signing what needs to be signed and initialing what needs to be initialed. The lady was explaining to you what would go down, but you could not focus on her words. You were still daunted by the fact that they were going to force John to some random place in this hospital and you would not know where he was or when you would get to see him again. You cut the lady off mid-explanation of the tests you would be taking to ask her about the question that would not leave your mind.

“Where are you going to take him?”

She gawked at you before returning to her original composure. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

“John. Where will he be while I’m doing this?”

“We have a room for the patient’s guests who decide to stay for the duration of the test, but we don’t typically see that happen. The tests usually take a while, so we encourage the guests to go do something or go home if they aren’t too far from the location.”

Your entire figure slumped at her response. So you would not get to know where John was and he would not get to know where you were? This hardly seemed fair to the patient. The people that are here are clearly here because they have some mental health issue that they want to figure out and get help for. Why tear away the one thing that they know is a safe zone? John could see your demeanor change. He was just as worried about you as you were about leaving him and taking these tests, which you still are not really sure what to expect. He formulated a plan in his mind that he felt would ease your mind a little bit.

“Y/N, love, you and I both know they aren’t going to let me in the room where your tests are done, and I doubt I can stay here. But,” turning to the staff member giving them the instructions, “I think a good plan would be that someone who works here can come tell me when you are about to take your last exam, and they can escort me right to the door that you will be walking out of, so I will be the first and last person you see. Is that okay?” The question was directed at both you and the staff member, who nodded her head in confirmation. The first smile in the last hour crept onto your face.

~

“Alright, I think that is all of the paperwork. Basically, the last thing you need to do is sign this sheet, which essentially says that you acknowledge everything I have told you about this procedure, including what tests are done and how they are administered, and you recognize that the treatments we provide at the end of the session, which will be typed out for you, are only recommendations. We are available to provide any assistance we can on whichever path you choose to take, okay? Do you have any questions for me before I take you back and show John where he needs to go?”

All you did was shake your head and swallow quietly. The staff member told you that she would go make a copy of all the paperwork, one for their records, and one for you to take home, and that it would be ready by the time you were finished, and she was willing to pass it onto John if it gets done before you do. In the meanwhile, she was going to go get the doctor who would be administering your tests. You were told that this process takes a minimum of an hour, but usually for this particular set of tests, it does not take longer than two. John was to be provided with a couple options for what to do with his time, including a movie, television, a book, magazines, the basic waiting-room drill. He would be in a space that was only about four rooms down the hall from where your exam would be taking place, so he really was not too far away, which made you feel a little bit more at ease. Both of your attentions were directed toward the front of the main office where you heard the automatic double doors to the hospital wing open and you saw a man in a very stereotypical white lab coat, followed by what you could only assume was a physicians assistant. That made you nervous. It made John nervous, too, considering the grip he had on your leg tightened. This had stayed a habit between the two of you, despite what happened that one Saturday with the producers. His touch was different, and you never minded the little massage he always gave with his thumb, almost like a nervous tic. The doctor casually walked over to the two of you while looking at the file he was given, probably just what he needed to administer the proper tests.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

You simply stood and offered the best half-smile you could. John did the same.

“Hello there! My name is Dr. Patrick Bradford. It is nice to meet you! As you may have guessed, I will be helping you through the next approximately two hours of your life, is that alright with you?”

You simply nodded.

“Great! Ms. Y/N, if you could follow my lead, I will escort you back to the area where you and I will spend our time, and Patty here will take John to his lounge room. If I understand correctly, John is to be brought to the space right in front of our test room doors so you can go to him right when this is all done, right?”

You nodded again.

“Perfect. Whatever makes you the most comfortable, dear. Now if you will, the tests will begin shortly, so please follow me. You too, John.”

The four of you walked in a semi-comfortable silence. John had proceeded to hold your hand when you stood up and did not let go until you were in front of the test room. When you were there, he could feel the clamminess that had just formed on your hand and how it was slightly starting to tremble. It broke his heart a little bit to know that he was the reason you were going to go through this, but he knew that in the long run, knowing exactly what caused your episode and figuring out where to go from there was the best plan. John had since turned to you to offer you one last ray of confidence before you walked in. He was going to hug you, that was the original plan, but the doctors told him that there was something with heart rate that needed to stay as consistent as possible for the test. He was not exactly sure why he could not hug you, but he could do what he chose to do anyway. He let go of your hand, which spiked your heart rate anyway, and he used said hand to ruffle your hair a little bit alongside his signature smile.

“You’re going to ace these tests, love.”

~

“Now, I am not up on my psycho-blah-blah, but what in the Queen’s name do you think happened to her?” Freddie spoke loudly through the sandwich Miami had brought back for him.

“Honestly, Fred, I have no idea. She quite freaked me out when she started to hyperventilate.” Brian was the most educated of the bunch, and the fact that he had no idea what to think was slightly concerning for the rest of the boys. “I mean, she has never acted that way in front of us before, and she hasn’t told us about a previous experience like that.”

Roger added in “she did say that this had been happening recently, so maybe her move over here triggered something or another?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, anyone would love moving over here, especially when they get to spend time with us, darling.”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Not the time for jokes, Fred. She could have a serious issue.”

“Look, I think we all clearly care about her well-being. She is a part of this family for the rest of our time as a band, even if she is called back to America to work with one of the bands that she previously worked with.” Miami was trying his hardest to fight back tears thinking about the pain Y/N has endured since being in England, and all the boys noticed. No one said a word. “She has done so much for this band already, and she is going to be a crucial point from this point forward. She took the leap of faith to move across the pond to work with us, that is how much faith she has in your band, that is how much she loves each and every one of us. And who would we be to say that if she comes back and tells us there is something wrong that she is a freak? That is not going to happen, and if it does, I swear to you all-”

“Relax, Beach, that isn’t going to happen.”

“You said it yourself – she’s family.”

~

John had been sitting alone in the lounge room for only about twenty minutes, but it felt like twenty years. The television in the background was playing reruns of some BBC soap that John had seen bits and pieces of through the years, but did not really understand or follow. He told them that he would just flick through the channels and find something on there, but in reality, he told them that because he knew it did not matter which media form he chose. He would not have been paying attention to any of them. His mind was preoccupied, to say the least. He had heard the tests that you would be taking in a small amount of detail, but none of them really made sense. He kept racking his brain trying to remember certain disorders that his psychology friends would talk about, but the only ones coming to mind were the commonly referred to ones, like anxiety and depression. He could not remember specific names for disorders, let alone if he could, what constituted them. He, nor yourself, knew what you were being tested for, and somehow that made it worse. They were, by no means, treating you like a wild, rabid animal who’s only goal in life was to murder everything in your path. They were actually treating you very politely and made sure you were comfortable with every single thing they said and did before moving on. John appreciated that, because he knows how meticulous you are and having details makes your heart swell – you know exactly what you were dealing with, and that allowed you to plan to your hearts content. You loved lists and organization, so the way they were treating you honed directly in to your personality. Twenty-five minutes now. Maybe trying to pay attention to the television will make this go faster. He was so impatient and missed you desperately. He wanted this to be over.

~

John heard the door to the lounge creak open, and he shot out of his chair as fast as a lightning bolt streaking across the sky. He looked at the nurse, Patty, with big, hopeful eyes that she had come in there to tell him exactly what he needed to hear; Y/N was taking her final test and should be out in about five minutes. And that was exactly what she did. John eagerly followed her out of the lounge and she dropped him off against the wall directly across from the test room doors. Just like they had promised to do. He felt like these five minutes were either going to fly by or drag terribly slowly. The prior was true, because it had only felt like about thirty seconds had passed and he saw the double doors open with Y/N and the doctor standing right behind it. He searched for the emotion behind your eyes and face. You simply looked tired. You were not happy, angry, sad, confused, sickened… just a contented, tired expression. He was happy to see that, because it could have been so much worse. When John and Y/N made eye contact, he smiled weakly at you while you started to plod toward him, expression not changing a bit. In a matter of seconds, you had made your way over to him and crashed into his torso. You latched you arms around his back and squeezed so tightly that John almost had trouble breathing. A signature Freddie Mercury bone-crushing hug – she had learned well, he thought. He did not care one bit. In fact, he grabbed you back across the upper back and neck just as tightly to show you that he was there and real. He was there just like he promised he would be, a way of showing you that he was always be there for you without exception. John’s hand that had found a spot on the back of your neck made your way into your hair and he began to lightly rub your scalp like he would your knee, and his chin had settled onto the top of your head. He lightly kisses the top of your head, no fear about the feelings that were manifested inside of him anymore. He had come to accept and embrace them, and held onto hope that one day something could happen. You lightly moved your head as a warning to John that you wanted to move it more so you could look at him.

“John, I want to talk to all of you about this when we get back, in case if jeopardizes my job with you guys.”

“Anything for you, love. Whatever you need or want.” That is what escaped his mouth. In his head though, what he really wanted to tell you was “I’m not letting anything, no matter what, take you away from me… because I’m in love with you.”

[prompt-and-circumstances]

Disrupting the Peace

Characters/Pairings: Reader Insert, Gadreel/Reader, Castiel

Prompt: Police Officer for the Gadreel’s Gigs Challenge by @kazchester-fanfiction (reposting this very old fic)

Word Count: 2,146

Warning(s): Mild Language, Awkward Fluff?

A/N: This is my very first work of fan fiction; I don’t expect much, and neither should you. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated!

Disrupting the Peace

This was the last straw. You couldn’t recall how many times you had called your neighbors about their absurdly loud stereos, asking for them to simply turn it down. You even lost track of how many times you had called building management. You even went so far as to call the dean, vice president, and president of the university. Campus security was next too useless as well, all they said “fill out a form” and then nothing happened. You must have filled over a dozen these past five months. You were blown off every single time. The stereo system was never lowered in volume; in fact, you were pretty sure it was turn up even more if that was even possible. The noise was ever present. It was starting to seriously affect your life, besides the effect it was already having on your sanity. Your health was suffering as you struggled to get sleep at night and now your grades were starting to suffer too. Falling asleep through lectures, forgetting to show up to study sessions, and let’s not even mention the times you spaced out during mid-terms. The whole situation was an unending nightmare and it ended. Now. It was time to take sufficient action against the dickweeds across the hall. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you calmly but coolly called the local police station. “This is Officer Novak, how may I help you today?”

“Uh, hi?” Seriously, how exactly do you greet a cop anyway? “I was wondering how to report, or even if I’m allowed to report, um, I think it’s called a disruption of the peace.” “It’s absolutely acceptable and even recommended to report a person or groups of persons that are disrupting the peace. Who is causing the disruption and how, and where are they so that I may send an officer down to deal with the situation?” “Well that seems fairly straight forward. I don’t know their names I just call them dickweed-7…” you paused as the officer on the other end of the line chuckled. “Sorry, their apartment number is D7. They’re my neighbors you see, across the hall from me. They like to blast indecipherable scream-metal music at all hours at full volume. We’re a campus apartment on the university and I can’t sleep, study, or even think at this point. I’ve asked them several times to turn it down and I’ve also exhausted the management of the building, administration of the university, and even campus security. I get blown off every single time and I’m at my wit’s end.” “Wow, that’s quite a situation you’ve got down there. I’ll send an officer down right away, what is your name please?” “Huh? M-my name? I’d like to remain anonymous if at all possible.” “Sure thing, I understand. I’ll make a note here and just be sure to tell the attending officer that as well. He’ll be stopping by your apartment as well to get a full statement. He’ll explain how to do it anonymously.” “Thank you so much Officer Novak.” “Sure thing ma’am. He’ll be there within the hour.” Sighing in relief, you hung up the phone and tidied up the apartment a bit. You wanted this whole thing to go in your favor after all, so it might be best to give off the illusion of “I’m a totally pulled together and serious college student.” You anxiously stared out your peephole hoping to catch a glimpse of your neighbor’s shocked faces when the officer shows up. However, that task got boring really fast so you opted to make a snack instead. While you were preparing a snack instead of keeping vigil (good thing you weren’t a police officer) you could hear heavy foreign footfalls on the stairs and then down the hall. Following was a heavy knock on dickweed-7’s door; you were mid-chew as you carefully rushed back to the peephole to catch your glimpse. Holy heck! The station sent a giant masquerading as a policeman. His shoulders were as broad as the door! Well if the jerks didn’t turn down for Officer Intimidating then they were not going to turn down for anything. You honestly did not know how long you stood there watching dickweed-7 and company deal with the officer, but next thing you knew he had turned around and started walking down the hall to your door! In a mad dash back to your kitchenette you quickly gulped down the rest of your snack while trying to regain your dignity. As you were leaving your little kitchen you caught a glimpse of yourself from the reflection in the microwave door. Your hair was a shambles. You groaned, no one could write comedy like this. This was real life and it hated you right now. In a panic you fussed with your hair in front of the microwave when you heard that ominously heavy knock on your door. It was now or never; so with your best Ariel impression, you dinglehoppered your hair into submission. Internally you were screaming like a pre-pubescent schoolgirl who had just met Justin Bieber before his voice broke. He wasn’t Officer Intimidating, quite the contrary! He was Officer God’s-Gift-to-Womankind! The man was a total hunk. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled. His face was serious and kind at the same time; his pale complexion betraying a plethora of freckles. His eyes resembled a forest in a thunderstorm, green but cloudy unless the light hit them just right. And that jaw, good lord it made you weak in the knees; he had a square jawline that you swear could cut through steel. “Sorry to bother you ma’am, but I’m going to need a complete statement from you.” “O-of course.” Pull yourself together, you can get through this. “What exactly does a statement entail. I’ve never done this before.” “No worries ma’am…” “Miss. I’m a miss, not a ma’am.” He shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, as if embarrassed he had called you ma’am. “My apologies. Miss. Basically I just need you to write down everything involving the situation. When the noise started, the steps you had previously taken to get it turned down, calling the precinct, and that an officer came by to handle the situation.” “Oh, well that doesn’t seem so bad.” You finally snapped back to reality and realized you had kept him standing in the hallway this entire time. “I’m sorry, would you like to come in? I can fill this out at the kitchen table.” “Thank you miss.” Good heavens, he actually had to duck under the doorway a bit, it was so sexy. How tall was he anyway, six-two? Six-three? You both sat at the table and he waited patiently as you wrote everything down. Every now and then you’d steal a glance at him, he looked so uncomfortable just sitting there with nothing to do. Maybe you should offer him a drink or something. “Excuse me, Officer- “ “Novak, Officer Novak.” Novak! That was the dispatching officer! Surely this wasn’t the same man. “Novak? From dispatch?” He chuckled, “oh no, I’ve never worked dispatch in my life. You probably spoke with my brother Cas. That’s more his thing, he enjoys talking with people and sending other officers to help them.” “Well he was very nice and helpful.” “I’ll let him know.” “Please do,” you smiled as you motioned towards the kitchenette, “could I get you something to drink. I really only have water or tea, you know, college budget and all.” “Thanks, tea would be great actually.” He offered up a nervous smile. Geez, he was the one with a gun, what was he so nervous about? “Is chamomile alright with you?” You caught his nod of approval as you disappeared into the kitchenette. You thought about Officer Dreamboat while you made the tea, getting so lost in thoughts of improper situations, you over poured the tea pot of boiling water right onto your hand. The dreamboat raced into the cramped kitchenette upon hearing your cry of pain, genuine concern plastered across his face. “Miss?” There was even genuine concern in his voice. His voice, you hadn’t noticed it before, but it sounded the exact way melted dark chocolate tasted, smooth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I just, I just forgot where my head was. It’s fine, I just need to clean up this mess is all.” Your heart nearly stopped as he ignored your proclamations of normalcy and took your injured hand in his, examining it. He was standing so close you could practically count the freckles. “You’re going to need ice.” “I can get it, thank you. Well at least we have tea now.” You chuckled nervously, desperately trying to put him at ease. Officer Novak grudgingly nodded and went back to the table while you grabbed an ice pack as you brought the tea out. He seemed slightly dejected, his shoulders drooped a bit as he drank his tea and kept a watchful eye on your injured hand as you uncomfortably continued writing your statement. “Officer Novak?” “Please call me Gadreel. Officer Novak is my brother.” “Gadreel? That’s an interesting name. I’ve never heard it before.” “Yeah, it is a bit different isn’t it? It’s an old Biblical name, from an angel.” Of course he was named after an angel, how fitting. “That’s really cool, I hope you’re proud of your name. It’s special.” That did the trick. He sat a little more upright in his chair and his eyes were alight with gratitude, flashing green as he stared at you. “So, Officer Gadreel, I told your brother I wanted to remain anonymous with this whole situation. How do I do that?” “Well, you have to sign your statement but when I make my report and put your statement into the system I leave your name out. We’ll have an unsigned copy of your statement for public records and your signed one will be in a sealed file.” You sighed in relief as you leaned back in your chair. “Thank you. I know it sounds so silly to be anonymous about a disruption of the peace. I mean it would make sense if this had been a murder case and I were the sole witness, but honestly, those guys down the hall are such jerks and if they found out I ratted them out to the police, well, I’m sure they’d get revenge in some fashion or another.” Gadreel nodded all too knowingly. “I understand.” You signed the statement and handed it to Gadreel. You had taken the entire front and back of a page. He did say to write everything down, so you obliged. He folded it up and put it in his chest pocket while also taking out a card. He handed it to you with a smile, “If they do find out and give you a hard time, call me.” Sure enough, the card had the precinct number on it as well as his number. You both walked back to the door and even reached for the handle at the same time, your hands making contact briefly before both parties pulled away. You felt like an electric current just raced through your body and you were shocked to see he was not only avoiding eye contact, but he was blushing! “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your way.” You blamed yourself for the mix-up, trying to ease his pain a bit. He smiled and waited for you to open the door this time. As he walked back into the hall he turned around suddenly and looked you in the eye. “About that card I gave you. I mean it. If you ever need, anything, call me. Anytime, for any reason. I will come.” Now it was your turn to blush. “Thank you Gadreel. I will.” You both stood there a few minutes, intently staring into each other’s eyes. You were so absorbed with each other, neither one of you noticed dickweed-7 had opened their door and were just standing there, watching you. Gadreel smiled nervously again and then quickly leaned in and kissed you on the cheek before turning and walking away. He glanced up once while going down the stairs to catch one last glimpse of you and then he was gone. You sighed again, this had gone much better than you had expected. And then you saw them. Dickweed-7 was standing in their doorway dumbfounded. Eyes wide and jaw dropped. You flashed them a confident smirk as you turned on your heel and shut the door. That night was the purest sleep you’ve had in a while. Silent night. The first silent night in five months and all because of Gadreel. You smiled as you went to sleep, he was no office, he was an angel. And you couldn’t wait to call him back.

Tags: (tried to remember who was a Gadreel fan)

@manawhaat @rowdyhooliganism @pawsandscrubs @room-with-a-cat @totally-not-gadreel @blondecoffeecake @thewhiterabbit42

[rosykims]

A-Z HEADCANONS // DUNCAN THEIRIN

i was tagged by @nordxz thanks so much tash !! i'm gonna answer this for duncan, my babey and the next gen son of alistair and ella cousland 😊😚😘

i snappped while answering these and accidentally wrote 6 pages and almost 4k words so uh. loooooong infodump ahead.

Alignment: What would be their D&D alignment? How might it come into play?

duncan very easily falls into the lawful neutral category, like i dont rly need to give his alignment too much thought unlike with some of my other ocs. duncan is.....hmm. hes a very KIND person, generous and selfless, and tries his best to make people happy, but i wouldn’t necessarily say he's good, considering a lot his issues lie with his inability to act, or stand up to others. he’s guilty of very blindly following the law, or other people's ideas of what's right, and he doesn't really feel confident enough to rely on his own conscience for most things. so i'd say while he tries to do the right thing and act within the law, sometimes he goes against his own values out of fear or confusion or, simply out of ignorance, since he was born into a life of privilege and can't always distinguish what's right and what’s believed ykno

Beverage: What do they most like to drink, and why?

duncan shares a weird trait with both his brother and sister where they all just inexplicably ?? don't like alcohol at all. so stuff like wine and liquors is off the table. he absolutely LOVES tea though. u know that one scene in scott pilgrim where the gal is going thru her list of like 72 teas? thats him 100%. it's his lifeblood at this point, he has SO much of it and a perk of being the heir to a monarchy means he's got a lot of foreign merchant acquaintances, so he tends to order in different blends from all over. he's a chronic insomniac, and he uses it as a crutch to get through the days some times. modern!duncan still loves tea but obviously has a stronger love for coffee, since its far more effective!

Co-Habitat: Do they live with anyone? What’s “need to know” before moving in?

duncan currently lives in the residential dorms of the college of enchanters, while he's sort of aimlessly studying a bunch of subjects he's already mostly adept at. firstly, duncan is VERY sick lol, he was conceived while ella and alistair still hadn't found the cure for the joining, and essentially he inherited both of their darkspawn taint so 🙂🙂🙂 thats always a good time. so anyone who lives with him needs to prepare for 1) him being sick obviously,, throwing up, coughing up blood, looking like a corpse virtually 23 hours of the day lol. and obviously the fear that one day he might actually die. but also 2) he suffers from grey warden nightmares for the same reasons, hence the insomnia. he can go a concerning number of days without sleeping and usually only takes strategic cat naps when he needs to, but obviously he has his limits. it's very rare that he goes a full night without waking up in a cold sweat due to nightmares so. we stan one depressed king ! oh he also is Incapable of locking the door to his apartment. he always forgets and hes too tired to care about people stealing his stuff fkdkdjdjd he would probably make more of an effort if he had someone living with him, but old habits die hard so !!!!!!

Decor: What kind of home do they keep? Are there any defining details?

honestly , duncan's house is very devoid of clutter or personal items in general, which is sad. he definitely would have a lot of decor if he could, but since his current housing is only temporary while he's in orlais, he doesn't really want to get... comfortable ykno. other than that, duncan's home is always kept impeccably neat and clean, for two reasons. firstly, growing up in denerim's palace really engrained into his head the importance of keeping up appearances, so its sort of a subconscious ritual of his at this point. but i think more importantly its because of all the nights when he cant sleep, so during the night with nothing to keep him from dwelling on his thoughts or nightmares, he really needs the distraction, and cleaning gives him something to do. duncan really needs to feel like he's doing something, like he's managing, like he's able to achieve something so cleaning is just one little way of taking ownership of his life.

Escape: What do they do to de-stress? How successful is it?

nsfw warning but uhhh..... he has a LOT of sex basically dkdkdksk u wouldn’t know it by looking at him tho ! bc hes very polite and nervous and kinda shy?? but hes also charming and obviously attractive so he doesnt really lack for interested parties. mainly he just sticks to one night stands, with no strings attached, and it helps him take his mind off things when hes exhausted or its late at night and hes afraid to go to sleep. otherwise he also has had some friends with benefits but usually his personal life is too complicated for a serious relationship. aside from that, he also reads a LOT, writes too – when he has the time/energy – and obviously cuddling sessions with his cat, moira dkdkdk

Fluff: What hits their soft spot? Does anything turn them into emotional goo?

so ik above i said that duncan doesnt do serious relationships but thats,, not through any will of his own. he LOVES love and is a complete hopeless romantic , but unfortunately for a number of reasons he's just very unlucky at love ! 😔 so having an emotional, intimate connection with someone that isnt just sex is super healing for him, since he's not used to it at all. being with nadaia is such a positive thing for him, just knowing that his feelings are reciprocated and that he's valued and wanted.

Grudge: How bad does an insult go over? Do they hold a grudge long?

i think it depends on who its directed at !! duncan usually ignores any insults directed at him because he's grown up being so scrutinized by the public and for the most part, fereldens are very weary of him so he hears A LOT. most of criticisms about him he just.. automatically accepts as fact and really buys into them, bc he has such low self esteem. but as for other people, and ESPECIALLY loved ones thats a very different story!! he's not exactly the type to start throwing punches if anyone says a bad word against someone he cares about, but he WILL personally see to it in his own sneaky way that they get whats coming to them dkdkkdjd usually he'll either find a way to expose their dirty laundry, embarrass them in public, prevent a promotion, something like that lol. this goes double if the insult is directed at nadaia or his family.

Hobby: What’s something they do for fun that might be surprising?

ive already mentioned that he's an avid reader and he likes to write occasionally, but he's also a talented musician! He can play harp and lute, and has a beautiful singing voice ! tho he never EVER sings in public and u have to be like,, a ride or die for him to even consider singing in front of u.

Insomnia: What’s their sleeping schedule like? Snorer? Sound sleeper?

well like i said he's an insomniac so sleep rly is a vague, barely recognised concept to him at the point dksksksk he also experiences sleep paralysis during especially bad nightmares, honestly he rly hit the misery jackpot and i feel so bad like hes indisputably my most tormented oc 🙃🙃🙃 so yea hehe doesnt really thrash around during nightmares but he sweats A LOT and sometimes talks in his sleep. during sleep paraylsis obviouslyy he goes COMPLETELY rigid and still which is terrifying for everyone involved lol. on the rare occasion that he is able to sleep he is out like a light lol he would sleep for 17 hours if he could. in saying that because he is also a Strategic Napper he is usually comfortable falling asleep ANYWHERE, because hes so tired comfort really isnt a concern lol.

Jaded: Do they buy into the “happily ever after” ideal? What’s their standard?

no he doesn't unfortunately 😔 or at least i should say he doesn't believe in it for himself - he's pretty convinced that he won't live til 30 and he's existing on borrowed time as it is, so he hasn't really put a lot of thought into his own happiness or the pursuit of his own goals because he doesn't believe he'll be around to see them realized

Kin: What’s their role among their relations? Do they consider others family?

duncan is the firstborn son of king!alistair and ella cousland, my canon warden. he's also the eldest brother to roslyn and bryce theirin. he's also, obviously , the half brother of keiran, tho none of the theirin kids are aware of that oof. his role, officially, is to become king when his parents eventually pass. its NOT something he wants, due to being so sick and unsure of himself. despite what his parents tell him, he doesnt believe he will make a good king and is really terrified of the notion in general, i guess a little like alistair was in dao. duncan kinda,,, avoids his duties, to the point where he literally LEAVES to live and study in orlais. he still does what he needs to do, keeps in correspondence with people he needs to, but its all bare minimum stuff because hes just. so afraid of it lol. he has a mostly good relationship with his family, despite that – theres some resentment between him and his sister, rose, but thats a whole entire story we dont have time for dkdkskdk

Law: What do they think about abiding rules? Are they selective about it?

like i said before he's pretty adherent to the rules and laws of society tho i do see that as more of a flaw than anything. he doesnt really feel comfortable stepping outside the norm and tends to accept that other people know best ! even if he disagrees he's usually too unsure of himself to speak up. that does change quite a bit once he and nadaia grow closer, since SHE is big on bending ridiculous or unjust rules, but he's always gonna be a bit of a follower i think 😒

Magic: In a magic series or not, are they accepting, or is each instance a shock?

he's accepting!! he's a mage so it would be wild of him if he didnt lmao. during his childhood/adolesence he was kinda harsh on himself and had a lot of internalized guilt for being a mage, bc this was obviously still fresh after the mage rebellions. he resented his own abilities and just wanted to be normal, but that was also him projecting a lot of his other problems as well. he had amazing teachers who helped him come to terms with his abilities, and the best of all was my inquisitor, ashara, who is kind of like a very distant, scary aunt who always had a soft spot for him. she helped him – and alistair and ella – RIGHT after they discovered he was a mage, and she was really the biggest role model in his life when it came to magic. duncan has always looked up to her skill and control and confidence, and tried very hard to match that.

Network: Are they connected to the people? How much do they reach out to others?

duncan has an ARMY of acquaintances and connections due to his family, but doesn't really have a lot of people he considers his close friends. he's super friendly and he gets along with most people, but like ive said before serious relationships including friendships are always a bit complicated for him bc of who he is as a person lol. as for reaching out, he's a very independent, introverted person and so he tends not to seek out other people unless he's close to them or has no other choice. he's very self conscious about being a burden on people or being to “needy" so he holds himself back and sometimes comes across as a little cold.

Offspring: What kind of parent would they be? Would they prefer one, or multiple?

he.... probably can't physically have kids unfortunately due to his condition, and as a result he's never really wanted to think too much about it, or imagine a scenario that he believes he cant have. but if it WERE a possibility, or if he felt stable in his own life enough to adopt, he'd probably be comfortable with just one child to completely spoil. he would be such a good father, albiet maybe not the coolest dad ddkdkdks i think nadaia would be the one who got up to the crazy shenanigans and let her child get away with everything, and duncan would be more of the nurturing, responsible one. he'd be a MASTER at telling bedtime stories, would kick ass at homework assistance, and would sing his kid to sleep every single night (until they got too old for it obviously). ooooo im so IMMENSELY emo abt this au now that i think about it

Pistol: Is this character skilled with a weapon? What’s their opinion of violence?

duncan is a very non-violent person, but he does believe that sometimes violence is necessary and will BE violent if he needs to – only in self defence scenarios though. he's an adept mage, and very skilled with a staff, but he isn't a fighter, really – more of a defensive, protective figure.

Question: How often do they feel doubt? What topics are they defensive about?

oh the doubt is constant with him 🙃🙃 he has a lot of deep routed dread about his own morality and whether or not he's a good person or if the maker will accept him when he dies. he's andrastian but TERRIFIED of the notion that its all actually real, bc then he doesnt know where that leaves him. he has this weird existential dichotomy where he doesnt know if hes closer resembling a grey warden or a darkspawn bc of his tainted blood. he also doubts his abilities and his magic bc he's afraid that the taint just,, makes him inherently a corrupted thing. he doubts himself on a more basic level with like, being a good brother, a good son, a good king when the time comes. he wants to be a good student and partner but sometimes his health makes him feel like he cant, and it weighs on him so heavily, almost all the time. basically he needs a hug so badly its not funny 😔😔😔

Reminder: How are they at remembering daily needs? What falls through the cracks?

uhh its very selective !!! for the most part he's very good at taking care of himself, mostly because he NEEDS to otherwise his health gets out of control, but sometimes he tends to prioritize one set of needs above another,, which usually means not sleeping (the most common), forgetting to eat, not letting his loved ones know when he's having a poor health day which usually results in him getting really sick and nobody is around to help him. he also forgets to do certain things like lock up his house, buy foodstuffs, reply to peoples letters n stuff like that.

Sing: Do they like music? Do they listen often/sing/hum/play songs in their head?

yes and yes !! duncan loves music altho its a very personal and private thing for him. he's pretty naturally gifted with music and gets it from ella, who taught him a lot of what he knows. he has a gorgeous singing voice (i kinda hc something similar to dan smith’s vocals from bastille!) that he rarely uses bc he only ever sings when he's alone or if he's forced to by a nosy loved one or something lol

Touch: How do they handle contact? Is their personal bubble big?

duncan doesn't mind being touched !!! in fact in most situations he welcomes it, as long as its like,,, appropriate and not some random stranger obviously. he grew up with ella and alistair who obviously are VERY affectionate people so he loves giving and receiving hugs from friends and he doesnt flinch or feel weird about just? random natural touches or anything. his ~love language~ is also physical touch so he LIVES for cuddling with nadaia and holding hands and anything like that. however !!! his little sister rose HATES being touched by virtually anybody and in any capacity, so he's very aware that not everybody is okay with touch, and is always careful and considerate of other peoples boundaries. he usually waits for the other person to make the first move, or simply asks them first !

Upcoming: How much do they think of the future? Do they make long-term plans?

he doesn't at all 😔 i mentioned this before but he doesn't see himself living very long, and its really impacted his outlook on life. he is afraid to commit to a lot of things, even if its something he really, truly wants, because he doesn't want to get his hopes up for things. it also keeps him from forging positive relationships. a lot of it has to do with him just being overly polite, but he refuses to make the first move with anything, or communicate what HE wants out of something. for example, his relationship with nadaia could have progressed so much faster if he had just,,, told her what he wanted. she had to make a lot of the first moves in the relationship because he just,, doesnt know how to take chances i guess !!! we love a Deeply Flawed king

Vice: What bad habits do they have? Is there something they would be ashamed of?

Some harmless ones are ; him talking to his cat constantly dkdskd also he has very poor time management skills so he's almost always a few minutes late, forgetting to lock his stuff up, and slouching, probably !!! some more serious ones would be like,, having sex with strangers as a coping mechanism lol, not speaking his mind and instead just letting himself be a doormat, also INTENSE avoidance of his problems (moving away to orlais for 9 years to avoid his fear of being king for example 🙃) tho i guess they fall under the same category oof.

Wardrobe: What’s their fashion style? Do they have any staple pieces?

duncan dresses nice, for the most part !!! again, it's mostly to do with growing up in court and having to keep up appearances, but also hes just. a nice bisexual boy who wants to take care of himself ykno, and that includes hygiene/clothing/grooming etc ! he's maybe a bit TOO reserved tho, he mostly wears dark colours like blacks, greys and brows, but hes been known to wears reds/blues/whites as well, and there’s a lot of subtle yet beautiful details on his more formal attire that might go unnoticed by a casual eye. a lot of his clothes are specifically tailored but he's also fond of big oversized sweaters for when hes just hanging out ! he's got a not great relationship with his body lol so he usually dresses very conservatively, with long sleeves and pants and usually more than one layer, but hes also a thot so !!! pants be TIGHT dksksksks

X-Ray: How’s their health? Any problem areas? Do they take care of themselves?

Djdjdksksndjddjkekdidksjs OKAY WELL if u have read this far than obviously u kno the answer to this question. if ur just skimming tho first of all ur valid ! second of all duncan is VERY sick. he was conceived when ella and alistair where still searching for the joining cur, so basically he inherited the darkspawn taint x 2 and nearly died a bunch of times as a baby/young child. obviously idk how the cure storyline is gonna resolve but my hc is that bc the darkspawn taint is something he was BORN with, not just something that happened to him via ritual, his body is much more impacted by it so even if they are able to find a cure, it wouldnt work THAT well and his health would still suffer bc of the prolonged damage. so physically, he deals with a LOT – intense migraines, insomnia, nausea, fatigue, problems with breathing and fevers and stuff. obviously mentally hes.... not doing great either, tho he’s trying his best. sometimes his insomnia gets so bad he starts hallucinating visions from his darkspawn nightmares, and sometimes he just feel paranoid in general that he's actually an Evil Darkspawn and hes just somehow managed to convince everyone hes a normal person – sort of a weird blend of imposter syndrome and body dysmorphia its. complicated. anyway he has very low self esteem and tends to think hes a huge inconvenience to everybody, and when he was a teenager he went thru a period where he was very suicidal, and ANGRY and afraid 😔 he’s doing better though, now that he has learnt how to manage most of his symptoms and he's not suffering in denerim court. nadaia is also a huge help, though he tries not to become too heavily reliant on her, since he's had bad experiences with depending too much on other people.

Yack: What’s their favorite thing to talk about? What do they go on about?

skskdkdk im already crying hehe 🙂 duncan is so introverted and self conscious of being “Too Much" for other people so he tends to keep his thoughts/interests to himself and stick w just. boring small tall or non invasive questions relating to the other person. BUT if u show an interest and he trusts u then oh boy. hes an absolute dork. he loves talking about magic and having really intense conversations abt the technical sides of it (he and dorian would get along SO well) but he also loves history !!!! before he began studying at the college of enchanters he received multiple ??? qualifications?? (idk if thats the right term but u kno) from the university of orlais, one of them being orlesian and ferelden history. also anything to do with the grey wardens, the blights and darkspawn for personal reasons obviously. He's a VERY good storyteller so he somehow finds a way to make even the dryest topics seem very compelling and Cool – varric would be proud !! he finds the orlesian Great Game fascinating, and he enjoys sharing wild anecdotes about the things he's seen asshole nobles get up to. thats always thrilling skdksksk ALSO. He has a secret interest in necromancy and the mortalitasi (its only a secret bc hes the heir and that wouldnt look ... great lol ) but he only ever really talks about that with nadaia, who finds that stuff almost as interesting as he does. also, finally, he loves talking about nadaia 😊😊😊😊 hes the type of guy who will always namedrop “my girlfriend" into any conversation, loves telling people about her accomplishments and how Cool she is ..... he loves her a Lot is what im getting at sksksks

Zodiac: What’s their astro sign? Does it fit? What would you pick, if it’s unknown?

duncan is a pisces babey like his mother !!! tho he could also be a virgo but,,, i think for now pisces works better for him. he's very smart and introspective and creative, but he has some issues with critical thoughts, avoidance and melancholy like ive mentioned. also pisces is a water element so i guess that makes even more sense, since hes an ice mage 👌👌👌

okay !!! im done !!! i cant believe i wrote all that but i guess if u didnt know abt duncan before, u absolutely do now dksksks im so sorry to anyone who actually read thru all of this, u really are braver than the troops

[mistyyygoode]

The Lonely Hearts: 3 - Wine

Trigger Warning: Mention of suicide idealization, and in-depth talk of mental health.

___ 

The rest of the week is passed by quicker than Shelby had imagined it to. She was now on her way to her second appointment with Vincent after dropping Marie off at daycare.

As she walked into the office, she saw Ally walking out of the man's office. She sighed herself in as they spoke for a moment.

"Take your pills." Dr. Vincent said before walking back into his office.

Ally rolled her eyes as she sighed. When her eyes met Shelby's, she smiled. "Hey," she grinned.

"Hey," Shelby said softly.

"How have you been?"

"I'm okay. You?"

"Stressed, if I'm being honest. Did you get that job?" Ally asked.

"I, uh, haven't heard yet. I'm giving them a few more days."

"Let me know because I'm still looking for an assistant. If you're up for that."

"I'm not sure, actually," Shelby said.

Ally pulled a pad of paper from her purse and wrote her number down. She tore the piece of paper out and handed it over. "Well, let me know when you find out."

"Okay," Shelby smiled as she took the paper. "Thank you."

"You're welcome... I've got to go. Come to the butchery tomorrow if it's easier for you." Ally said as she walked toward the exit.

"Okay."

"Shelby," Vincent called from the door of his office.

"Bye," the two told each other.

Shelby walked into the office and took a seat across from Vincent's spot.

"How was the week?" he asked as he sat down.

"Productive," Shelby said.

"How so?"

"I got most of my apartment unpacked, and I applied for a job."

"Where at?"

"A yoga studio." She said.

"Okay. How have your panic attacks been?"

"They're still there..." Shelby sighed.

"Just as bad?"

"I guess..." she shrugged.

"How high or low would you rate your anxiety on a normal day?"

"A normal day would probably be somewhere between five or six." She explained.

"And a bad day?"

"They can be as bad as a ten."

"What would a bad day consist for you?" Vincent asked without looking up from his notebook.

"Probably walking up from a nightmare... I'd want to spend most of the day in bed, and take a Valium, but since I had Marie, I don't do that anymore... I get up and make her breakfast and get her doing something before I take a Valium. I usually watch TV with her and do whatever she needs me for." Shelby explained.

Vincent nodded. "What are your nightmares like?"

Shelby looked down at her lap. "Basically, flashbacks of what happened, or something worse."

"Do you have flashbacks when you're awake?"

"Yes..."

"How often?"

"It depends. Usually, it's if I've seen or heard something that triggers it."

"Have you tried Prozac?" Vincent asked.

"Yes. It didn't work." Shelby said.

"What about Praxil?"

"No."

"I want you to try it. We're going to start with fifty milligrams every day for two weeks. I want to continue our weekly session, and in two weeks we'll see where you are with the medication. Have you ever tried Effexor?"

"I'm not taking that," Shelby said as she looked up.

"Why not?"

"My mother was on it, and when she had to get off of it, she was so sick she went into the hospital."

"Okay..." Vincent said as he wrote this down. "Is your mother depressed as well?"

"She had bipolar II, and she had borderline personality disorder."

"Had?" he asked, looking up.

"She died when I was seventeen," Shelby said in a monotone, showing no emotion.

"What happened?"

"She killed herself."

"Have you ever been suicidal yourself?"

Shelby's eyes dropped back to her lap. "At times."

"Are you still suicidal?"

"Not at the moment."

"When was the last time you had any suicidal idealization?"

"Probably a couple of months." She answered softly.

"Have you ever acted upon these thoughts?"

"No."

"Okay. I also want to try and put you on Prazosin. It will help the nightmares. And, I want to take you off the Valium, and cut back on the Trazadone."

Shelby's eyes grew wide. "What?!" she asked.

"Valium can worsen your nightmares, and with the Prazosin, you don't need a hundred milligrams of Trazadone."

"What am I supposed to do when I have a panic attack?" she asked.

"I'll be giving you Xanax. They're similar, but without the possibility of nightmares." He explained.

Shelby let out a sigh as she nodded. "Okay."

"How long until you find out about the job?"

"I'm giving them a few more days." She answered.

"Have you applied anywhere else?"

"No, well, not really."

"Not really?"

"Well, Ally – your patient before me – offered me a job if I don't get this one," Shelby explained.

"What kind of job?"

"She said she needed an assistant."

Vincent just nodded as he wrote this down. "Okay... was there anything this week that you would say you couldn't cope with?"

"Unpacking some things... I found some of Matt's things, some pictures, and even one of Dominic's shirts I kept." Shelby explained.

"Who's Dominic?" Vincent asked, brows slightly furrowed.

"He, uh... we had a small affair before the second part of the show. He's... he's Marie's father." She said softly as she looked down.

"Oh... I just assumed she was Matt's."

"No," Shelby said. "We hadn't had sex for a few months before I slept with Dominic, and he's the only guy who I slept with during the month I would have gotten pregnant."

Vincent nodded. "What did you do with the things you found?"

"I put the clothes into a box, and I have it in my trunk right now. I'm taking it to a donation place, maybe Goodwill. And with the pictures, I threw them away."

"How long has the box been in your car?"

"Uh... maybe three days?" she said.

"Okay, that's your next assignment. I want you to take that box to wherever you want to take it today or tomorrow. You need to get rid of it. Is there anything else you found?"

"No," Shelby said.

"Okay. Is there anything else you feel we need to discuss?"

"Not really."

After leaving the office, Shelby sat in her car for a few minutes. She grabbed her phone and the slip of paper that Ally gave her.

Shelby: Hey, it's Shelby. I was wondering if I can come by today. Even if it's just for some fries

Not even a whole minute passed before she received a reply.

Ally: You're welcome to come whenever you want. You can bring your daughter if you would like

Shelby: Thank you. I'm on my way now

Shelby decided to leave Marie at the daycare. Madalyn had told her a day or two before that she should spend more time with the kids there to grow better, so she was trying to let her daughter socialize with children her age instead of adults.

When she arrived at the butchery, she saw Ally sitting in the back booth with a bottle of wine and a computer. She saw the woman look up from her computer, and wave her over.

Shelby made her way over and sat down across from her. Ally started to pour a second glass, and as much as Shelby wanted it, she knew she couldn't. "I have to get Marie... I'm sorry."

Ally shook her head. "Don't be sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that. The fries are on the way already... bad session?"

"You could say that," Shelby laughed sarcastically.

"I know the feeling. This is my third glass of wine."

"How are you not drunk?" Shelby asked, slightly shocked.

"Who said I wasn't?" Ally laughed softly.

She laughed along with the other brunette. "I wish I could have a glass. I might after I put Marie down tonight. I haven't finished the bottle you gave me yet, but it is amazing. It's the best I've ever had."

"I agree, although, the market on Jackson isn't too bad with their rosé." Ally said.

"I'll have to get some."

A waiter came to the table with a glass of water and a platter of fries. "Here you go, Mrs. Mayfair-Richards." He said before looking at Shelby. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Thank you, Chad." Ally said before he walked away. "So, what's your favorite type of wine?"

"Red," Shelby said before she grabbed a fry to eat.

"Me too! I can't stand white."

"It's too dry."

"Exactly!" Ally exclaimed.

They both grinned before taking sips of their drinks. "So, what are you working on?" she asked.

"Nothing, actually. Ivy thinks I'm working on bills, but I did them this morning. This is my way to have some wine and no disturbances."

"Am I a disturbance?" Shelby asked.

"No, you're a refreshment." Ally said with a small smile.

Shelby smiled to herself before saying, "I don't think I'm going to get that job."

"Like I said, you've got the job here if you want it."

"What would that intel?" Shelby asked.

"Are you good at math?"

"Extremely."

"Perfect, you've already got the job." The natural brunette said happily. "Basically, you'll make sure everything is done and turned in on time, kind of like my reminder. Uh... you might take care of some phone calls for me, check numbers for me before I turn anything in, and I might put you on inventory to make sure we don't buy too much or too little of something." She explained.

"Sounds easy enough," Shelby said before sipping on her water.

Ally poured herself another glass of wine. "Great, you've got the job."

"You're a very functioning drunk," Shelby said before widening her eyes. "Sorry..."

"It's okay, I am." Ally said.

"I don't have much of a filter..."

"It's okay, really." The older woman said. "Do you want to talk about your session? I find that helpful sometimes."

Shelby shrugged. "I'm not sure I like Vincent."

"I know he seems like an asshole, but he's helpful. I've been seeing him for nearly ten years."

Shelby's eyes went wide before looking down at her fries. "That's a long time."

"I've gone to therapy for a long time. Sometimes I take breaks, but recently it's been pretty consistent." Ally explained.

"Can I ask why?" Shelby looked back up at the other brunette before stuffing another handful of fries into her mouth.

"I have anxiety and phobias... they seem to worsen when I'm under stress, and I don't like taking my medication."

"I don't like taking my pills either."

"What are you on?"

"Well, I was on Trazadone and Valium, but he switched me to Xanax, and uh... shit, what was that called? Something for nightmares."

"Prazosin?"

"Yeah, that! Oh, and Praxil. Have you ever tried that?" Shelby asked.

"That's what I'm on right now with Xanax. I didn't care for Prazosin because I was a zombie the next day."

"Fuck..."

"Not everyone is like that. I'm very sensitive to sleeping medication. I'm on a very, very low dose of Seroquel right now too." Ally explained before downing more wine.

"I've never tried that."

"They don't suggest it with Xanax."

"Then... why do you take it?"

"I don't have any side effects. Only some people do." Ally said.

"Oh, okay."

"Just don't let him put you on Effexor."

"I told him no today," Shelby said.

"Good. It's a bitch to get off of."

"I know..." Shelby said softly before eating a few more fries.

"Have you ever been on it before?"

"No, but my mother was."

"Ah," Ally nodded before finishing off her wine. "So, what else besides pills made you upset with Vincent?"

"I felt... kind of judged by something I used to regret, but not so much anymore," Shelby said.

"What was it?" Ally asked. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, honey."

Shelby felt her heart skip a beat and a small flutter in her stomach at the friendly 'honey'. "I don't mind... I had an affair before Matt, and I split up. I know it was shown on the show, but it wasn't just that one weekend that the paparazzi caught."

"With that actor, right?" Ally asked.

"Yeah..." Shelby sighed. "It lasted about a month. He's Marie's father, not Matt. I guess Vincent assumed it was Matt since he's my ex."

"I think since he doesn't know a whole lot about you, that maybe that's why. He doesn't listen to what other people say, or social media type things." Ally explained. "But, he shouldn't have judged you either. Things happen, we're human."

Shelby nodded with a small sigh before eating a few more fries. "Thank you for listening to me. I don't... really have anyone else, close at least."

"Of course," Ally smiled softly. "I can always be a listening ear when you need one."

Shelby smiled softly as she nodded. "Thank you, really."

"Of course!"

Shelby glanced down at her phone to see a text from Madalyn, seeing it was time to pick up Marie soon. "I should get going soon... how are you getting home like this?" she asked, referring to Ally's drunken state.

"I'll take an Uber. It wouldn't be the first time, plus, I still have..." the brunette glanced at her watch. "Forty-five minutes until I have to be home. The longer the better."

Shelby bit her lip softly. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm," Ally nodded softly.

"Is everything okay?" Shelby asked softly. She could sense that something wasn't.

"With me or...?" the other woman asked as she sipped on her wine.

"Well, you or your marriage. You know, I know how things can get hard, or go wrong... clearly." Shelby chuckled softly.

Ally shrugged. "Things are okay right now. Thank you. You should get going and get your daughter, Marie right?"

She nodded softly. "Yeah, it's Marie. And okay. If you need to talk to, you can always text me. I can be that listening ear for you too."

Ally smiled softly as she nodded. "Thank you, same goes for you."

"Of course, and thank you, for listening and for the fries," Shelby said as she stood up from the booth.

"Of course. See you soon?" Ally asked before drinking more of her wine.

"Yeah, maybe next time I'll bring Marie with me." She said.

"Awesome. See you soon." The other woman said before looking back down at her computer.

"Bye," Shelby said before walking off.