#and that is a Herculean task for me most of the time

[ripegreenfruit]

I’m not very old (30+) but I get so emotional and warm when I realize how many more queer stories there are for me. The world feels so brutal sometimes and so hateful. There’s still so far to go. But like. When I was a teenager, I really fucking hoped things would be better, and they are. It’s not enough, but. Do you know how amazing that is?? My teenage heart and my now-heart are so warm.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[crossingthedreams]

do better — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: I got a little carried away, per usual, and now I’m late with day 04 of the angstober challenge (still a wyp), but I plan on finishing it and posting later today. but, omg, I can’t believe I'm posting day 05 — do better on time! this is also part of @angstober‘s challenge, which I'm having a blast writing. I do love some angsty vibes. please, feel free to comment or dm me!

summary: a relationship between the boss and his employee has a million ways to go wrong. one, in particular, hurt them the most. 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst. House is an asshole. mentions of family death. mentions of cancer. struggles with immigration. inappropriate relationship. mentions of smut.

Let medicine be thy food. 

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks. 

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests. 

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops. 

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him. 

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink. 

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”. 

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh. 

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss. 

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron. 

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing. 

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem. 

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there! 

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that. 

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit. 

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care. 

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her. 

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”. 

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away. 

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning. 

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified. 

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty. 

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.  

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too. 

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual. 

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better. 

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze. 

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it. 

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise. 

You meant nothing to him. 

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born. 

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off. 

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too. 

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in. 

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?” 

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible. 

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face. 

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”. 

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House. 

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left. 

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man. 

You were doing better now. So, why, pray tell, why did this still hurt so much? 

[onlyswan]

summary: in which moving in together is a herculean task and jungkook teaches you how to fold his underwear.

> est. relationship, fluff, angst lowkey / wc: 3.2k

> warnings: mention of h!ckeys and or/l s/x (f. receiving), allusion to c*ckwarming and s/x

> in which masterlist!

note: who else will drunkenly research about men’s underwear and scroll through calvin klein’s website at 2am to write this for shit and giggles and self-indulgence if not art <3 as always i love hearing your thoughts thru reblogs/comments/asks !! 🥺

—

“pssst.”

“oh shit-”

jungkook looks up to find you standing by the doorframe of the walk-in closet, and the view instantly weaves a stupidly whipped grin on his handsome face. your hair is messy from sleep; your eyes are still half-lidded; and your lips are wrapped around the straw of the red water tumbler you’re clutching in your hands.

“baby! you scared me! what are you doing out of bed?”

“my bed escaped from me.” you mumble, padding across the wooden floor until you reach him. he watches in bewilderment as you fall to your knees and pull his arms out of your way. muscular body pliant underneath your dainty touches, he allows you to move him as you like.

“ahhh-” he produces a noise of enlightenment as you find a comfortable position between his legs, lying down across his lap. he’s forced to support the weight of your torso with his arm beneath your upper back, hand curled around your shoulder. “am i the bed?”

“mhmm, boo! i caught you. you’re stuck with me forever.” you go limp in his arms and dramatically press the back of your hand on your forehead like a damsel in distress, which elicits a chuckle from your boyfriend.

he bends down to pepper kisses along your jaw and exposed neck, plush lips brushing against the traces of love bites that blossomed on your skin this afternoon, courtesy of his friskiness. having always been extra sensitive there, the ticklish sensation makes you squirm. “that’s exactly what i signed up for.”

“oh?” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. “sure. let’s see if you can still say the same thing… three months from now.”

your fingers comb through his silky locks, taking a fistful and lightly yanking to pull him off you.

“as you were.”

a grunt tumbles out of his mouth when you change positions carelessly. in the end, you settle with straddling him, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, where you nuzzle your face and almost purr like a kitten due to the warmth that you’ve missed in his absence.

the process of transforming an apartment to a home together has been… exhausting, to say the least. you’ve had most of the furniture installed before you started bringing in your personal belongings, but how can a space feel so empty and so crowded at the same time? too many boxes, too many bags, too many things left to buy. the line between what’s yours and what’s his is blurring in your eyes, and this is only the beginning.

you thought dealing with jungkook’s self-admitted laziness would frustrate you at some point, well… which it did. however, it turns out that it is precisely what you need in this type of situation. yesterday morning, he successfully seduced you into letting him eat you out on the kitchen island. you reached the height of your pleasure twice in a row, nearly delirious as he was lost in untamed lust and moaned about how you taste, distracting you from planning out what goes in which kitchen cabinet based on dimensions and convenience. last night, he had to drag you back to bed at 5am because you ended up organizing your bookshelf for two hours instead of only getting a refill of water like you claimed.

“what are you even looking for?!” jungkook exclaims with a hand over his naked waist, clad only in his boxers, as he watches you rummage through four boxes in search for something.

“the easel!” you whimper, your calves breaking your fall as you slump back on the floor in despair.

“easel?” he squats down infront of a box beside you, scratching his cheek as his puffy and sleepy eyes scan the other boxes. “i don’t think an easel would’ve fit in here, baby.”

“it’s a mini one. the one i use to display my favorite book.” you pout to point at it standing in the second level of the shelf. he recognizes it as the limited edition book he bought you last year, and the flashbacks of him standing in line for hours to get it signed by the author are inescapable.

if hearing you say that it’s your favorite makes jungkook so ecstatic that he wants to break down into tears, he doesn’t show it. instead, he nonchalantly throws you over his shoulder, making a beeline to the bedroom. he yelps when you angrily pound at his back with balled fists.

“ugh, i hate you! put me down!”

he clicks his tongue. “bad!” he lightheartedly chides you, smacking your ass. “i’m cuffing you to myself! do you have any idea what time it is? you have class in three hours!”

“but, babe, i don’t want to attend!” you cry out, slumping as you grudgingly yield. “why do you have to be so strong?! stop lifting weights for fuck’s sake!”

at the time, you meant it when you said that you want to take the moving duties slowly since you have all the time in the world but… you can’t stand the clutter and disorganization for the life of you. at the same time, it pumps your veins with thrill, having an empty space and being responsible to breathe life into it with jungkook. out of all the life-altering decisions you had to make with your still developing brain, this is the biggest gamble yet.

you don’t know if you’re blinded by love, putting your trust in jungkook when he said that he wanted to build a life with you; or if it’s arrogance, having the trust in your ability to stand on your own feet again incase a match is thrown in a puddle of fuel on the floor. the latter is more painful to think about, quite frankly. just because you can, doesn’t mean that you want to. you have to. you have to. with bruised knees from praying for a little more time, you have to. the earth doesn’t stop orbiting the sun when your house burns down.

either way, it’s too late to succumb to your inner monologue. the stuffed toys you own, including ones you’ve dearly loved since childhood, are scattered across the living room. the journal you’ve been sadly neglecting for the past two weeks is just freely lying on your personal study space. you’re here, safe in his arms, and if there’s one thing you’ll always believe in, it’s this. and you intend to make the most out of each day the universe allows you the right to be here.

“you can fall asleep like this? while i keep moving?” he whispers, wide palm soothingly running up and down the expanse of your back.

only if it’s you, you say in the back of your mind. “you can see for yourself.”

“psh. always gotta keep me on my toes, don’t you?” he smooches your cheek, and then once more, lingering and refusing to part away. you feel his lips curling up against your skin.

jungkook reaches for the tumbler you left behind on the floor, capturing the straw between his lips and plentily sipping until he deems his thirst quenched. he sets it aside afterwards, returning his attention to the laundry basket he purposely laid on the floor so he can easily reach inside. he’s been happily working hard on the laundry after you both agreed to wash the clothes you haven’t worn in quite some time to keep your closet clean and fresh.

a little hiccup though.

quickly and unsurprisingly, you ran out of hangers between his long-sleeves and yours alone. therefore, he’s solely focusing on the to-be-folded for tonight, which mostly consists of shorts, casual pants, underwear, and socks.

he inserts his arm in the laundry basket to push out the articles of clothing closer to the edge, grabbing the nearest thing and proceeding to neatly fold it over his outstretched legs. his white sweatpants lands on top of its designated pile, and then the same goes for your tennis skirt, as well as his ripped jeans, and everything else after that.

jungkook being jungkook, singing comes naturally to him after breathing and more than blinking. he hums, chest vibrating against yours as he does so, occasionally singing the lyrics in between because he means them. a tattooed arm protectively wraps around you to keep you glued to his body each time he leans forward. his careful movements, along with his mellifluous voice, fool your senses into believing that you’re being carried out by the ocean waves to the shore of dreamland.

your boyfriend freezes when one of your arm slides down his shoulder, an irrefutable evidence that you’ve fallen asleep again. you finally tired yourself out, he breathes out a sigh of relief. he cups the back of your head as support, eyes shaping into crescent moons as he giggles as quietly as he can after seeing your face.

“so fucking cute.” he muses, rewarding your cheek with another kiss before securely tucking you back into his embrace.

he carries on with his task to allow you to dive further into unconsciousness. he spends the next fifteen minutes folding the boxers that were still stuck inside one of his suitcases, patiently operating with only an arm. his tattooed one is still preoccupied with maintaining a protective embrace around you. shortly after, he decides that it’s time for you to go back to bed.

“there we go.” he says quietly to himself as he succeeds to stand on his feet, carrying you with his hands hooked around your bare thighs. you unconsciously tighten your hold around his neck and release a deep sigh of contentment in your sleep.

he kicks the door open, walking with light, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. he climbs on the bed, knees sinking in the mattress as he gently lays you down. and there’s an inexplicable emotion stirring in his chest as he covers you with the blanket, accompanied by the epiphany that he is doing this at 2am not because time has arrived to daunt him and he needs to leave your bed to go home. not anymore. whatever this is, it feels so fucking good. oh my god, he looks forward to spending the rest of his life feeling you breathe next to him, getting lost in how peaceful you look asleep when he randomly wakes up in the middle of the night.

he tenderly squeezes your arms as he leans down to plant a goodnight kiss on your velvet lips, sweet and loving. slowly, and with the smallest movements possible, he gets out of the bed to return to the closet.

“love, you’re not sleeping yet?” your tiny voice barely reaches his ears but it pinches his heart, even more painfully when he sees that your hand only managed to seize three of his longest fingers to stop him from walking away.

he sits down beside you, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i will in a bit, baby. i only have the rest of my underwear left to put away.”

you blink at him hazily, silent as you digest his words in your clouded mind. “you’re folding them, too?”

“of course.”

and with that confirmation, you eagerly inch closer to him. “teach me.”

“huh?” his forehead creases, eyebrows knitting in a state of confusion.

“teach me.” you repeat yourself, bordering on a whine.

“how to fold my underwear?”

you innocently nod your head as a reply.

“why?” he asks, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because of your unusual request. but then again, he can’t say he’s much that surprised. it’s such a you thing to do.

“i can’t?” your lips form an adorably small pout, and you sniffle as your eyes water with unshed tears of drowsiness. “but you’re my boyfriend.”

fuck fuck fuck, he curses inside his head. his heart flips and drops to his stomach. holy shit, yes he is. it’s infuriating, how it requires you little to no effort to have him wrapped around your finger. the endearing sight automatically tugs at his heartstrings, urging him to cradle your soft cheeks in between his large palms.

“i’m just curious.” he reassures you with a chuckle, leaning down to press one more sweet kiss to your lips.

“we do chores together…” you trail off, nose scrunching when his brushes yours. you smile sheepishly. you’re relishing in the mere inches between you — how you can see that his pupils are evidently dilated, his brown doe eyes appearing rounder and bigger than they already are. “so i just want to learn how to do it right.”

you swiftly throw aside the blanket enveloping you when he voices out his permission with an “it’s so easy!”, cheerfully jumping off the bed. captivated by your unique charm, jungkook allows himself to be dragged away as a breathing, walking picture of pure adoration.

—

he finds himself sitting on the same spot on the floor, back comfortably resting on the cabinets now that you’re beside him instead of on him. your drooping eyes follow the every movement of his dexterous hands as he folds a calvin klein trunk on his lap, black with a white waistband. wearing an orange beanie of his you found stuck underneath the laundry basket, you obediently bounce your head as he earnestly demonstrates it with instructions.

“so you take this side and fold it over to the middle, and then! you do the same with the other one, so they’re folded equally like this.”

he briefly picks it up to show it to you from rim of the waistband, the two parts stacked and perfectly aligned.

“after that, you take the bottom and roll it over like… halfway? whatever, i just kind of do it by feel- and the final step… so you also fold the waistband here so you can tuck the rolled up part inside. it ends up looking this neat and compact, see?”

your gaze only flickers at the finished product, having seen what it looks like about a thousand times in his backpacks and luggages. “so these are called trunks… and those are called boxers?”

your boyfriend follows the direction your index finger is pointing at, revealing a pile of folded boxers sitting inside of his opened suitcase. he winces with his full set of teeth before he cracks up in laughter, the genuine curiosity you radiate is making his brain overflow with love and happy chemicals.

“right! those are more comfortable and breathable so i wear them at home, while trunks provide more support for when i need it, you know?”

“snug fit or loose fit this, boxers or boxer briefs that. you strip them off all the time to put your dick in me anyway.” you scoff, picking up another calvin klein creation from the laundry basket immediately afterwards.

a string of ditzy giggles slip past your lips. the light blue trunk was standing out among the neutral colors like a firefly in the forest, practically begging to be chosen as your first piece of work.

“i’ll do this one! you wore it yesterday. i love the color.”

his lips part open in surprise at your lewd and unfiltered response, a hand flying to his face to conceal the rosy shade that has begun to tint his flushed honey skin, many earrings collectively swinging and belly aching as he chortles. it’s embarrassing, really, how he still blushes despite having done countless sinful things with you. can you really blame him for being incapable of keeping his hands to himself when he’s so helplessly and hopelessly attracted to you?

he clears his throat, crossing his legs and moving to his side so he’s facing you. “go on then.”

you flap it against the air to straighten out the fabric, placing it over your thighs and meticulously following your boyfriend’s instructions step-by-step. you’re quiet as you commit yourself to the chore, floating in your little bubble of tranquility and concentration.

and jungkook is intently watching you with as much self-control he can muster. the urge to grab your face and kiss you senselessly is palpable, wrapping itself around his limbs like vines that have a life of their own, desperate to dip into the sun for a taste. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and he can attest to that to a certain degree… but dear god, its lack thereof?

there’s no sensible reason why the both of you should be spending your late nights in your new apartment doing stuff like this when you have an entire 55-inch television set up on the floor because you haven’t found the time and energy to attach it to the bedroom wall yet… and not to mention that jungkook had to write more batteries all types of batteries, tongs, and curtains as CURTAINS!!! in your little notebook of to-buy checklists because somehow, they never crossed either of your minds the last two times you went shopping for your remaining home essentials. his new gaming chair arrived this afternoon and he has zero clue where he will insert assembly time into his busy schedule. one of these days, you’re also bound to discover the plant namjoon left as a gift three days ago. he placed it at the balcony, and it’s only surviving due to the fact that it’s been a relatively rainy month.

although, that’s precisely what makes this moment so priceless and so grounding. you smoothly finish the challenge and sing “ta-da!” with a beam that causes your eyes to twinkle with a tiny sense of achievement despite your apparent exhaustion.

“oh?! looks perfect. good job, baby. goob job.” he praises you with a grin, affectionately stroking your hair. “let’s work together so we can go to sleep.”

his thoughtful words and action make you keen, coaxing the giddiness in you to bubble over. you playfully nudge his side as you haul the laundry basket closer. “i want to play. let’s see who can fold the most in a minute!”

“play?” his shoulders deflate as he sighs, battery running low.

“no?” your lips pucker up in dismay. “too tired, love?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he gives it some consideration. he shrugs. “what’s in it for me?”

oh, damn it.

“the winner also automatically wins the light fixture debate?”

in which you’re referring to your month-long dispute over which color of the cloud light you should purchase for your shared bedroom. he insists on the white cloud that has the white light because it looks like a thundercloud, and on the other hand, you’re fighting for the pink cloud with the yellow light because it looks like the sunrise or the sunset depending on its saturation and brightness.

“alright!” he blurts out, a surge of energy kickstarting his system. he snatches his phone, which he left in one of the empty shelves near him. “baby wants to play a dangerous game, huh? the stakes are incredibly high! too high! are you ready? to lose?”

your mood sours when he begins using his variety show hosting voice, confidence dwindling but determination fueled and burning brighter now that he’s in higher spirits.

you roll your eyes. “yeah, sure. ready to lose the white variation in my cart, bro.”

he smirks mischievously, his childish and devilish laughter echoing in the closet. “we’ll start the timer! in three…! one- go!”

“freeze, you cheater! i wasn’t ready! put that shit down!”

—

note: soooo, are you team oc or team jungkook? i will be keeping score 👩‍💻

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm to be added or removed :D

—

[gnocchibabie]

The Realm's Tragedy

Chapter 1 - The Porcelain Princess

aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!oc

next chapter --- masterlist --- ao3

Summary: Maevys Targaryen is born into a kingdom overshadowed by calamity. With her mother Aemma Arryn gone, King Viserys consumed by grief, and Princess Rhaenyra adrift in sorrow, young Maevys finds herself at the heart of a fractured family. As she emerges from the shadows of tragedy, she must navigate the delicate balance between the remnants of a broken lineage and the impending storm of a new era.

As the dragons dance, the princess must learn to accept an unforgiving truth: All Must Choose.

Warnings: gore and blood, graphic descriptions of violence/traumatic childbirth

Wordcount: 1.2k

112 AC – King’s Landing

The piercing screams of Queen Aemma Arryn echo through the halls of the Red Keep, filling King Viserys I Targaryen with a sickening dread as he hastily rushes to her chamber. The cries are not those of labor but are more akin of an animal in its final moments. The merriment of the tourney presumes outside the castle walls, unknowing of the chaos that swarms within. 

When Viserys finally pushes open the door, the sight of his wife – disheveled and dripping with anguish – has him rushing to her side. 

Aemma had always had great difficulty bearing children – it was a wonder Rhaenyra had even been brought into this world – but this, this was different. All color had been drained from the Queen, leaving only a layer of cool sweat covering her pale form. Hair sticking to her face, breathing labored, and grip weak on her husband’s hand, the King felt his wife drift further and further away from him.

She looked more spectral than alive.

Aemma.

Viserys looks around to the handmaidens attending to his wife, though they skillfully avoid his gaze.

“Mellos.” The king breathes out, leaving his wife to speak with the maester. 

A grim look paints the face of his most skilled healer, “My King…during a difficult birth, it sometimes becomes necessary for the father to make an impossible choice.”

Viserys blinks incredulously at the man before him as his wife continues with her agony, “Well speak it!” His heart pounds.

“To sacrifice one…or to lose them both.” Mellos replies, voice measured despite the chaos surrounding them. Viserys listens to the man describe the technique taught at The Citadel – the barbaric ritual of cutting the babe from its mother, in hopes it may be saved. The King hears his words, but finds it hard to truly listen to them.

Mello’s stern face wavers for a moment, “But the resulting blood loss-”

“Seven Hells, Mellos.” The King took a deep breath to keep his panic from setting in, from blurring his better judgment. 

The Gods punish me…They set an impossible decision before me. 

Viserys looks back at Aemma once more, seeing his wife has calmed, her pain momentarily subsiding. A handmaid dabs a damp rag to the queen’s pale forehead, and she almost looks serene. He thinks of his son, stirring within her, waiting to come out into this world. To be set forth into the realm he will one day rule. 

Expelling a shaky breath, Viserys turns his back to her, “You can save the child?”

“We must either act now, or leave it with the Gods.” Mellos replies.

It feels as though a piece of Viserys, some portion of his soul deep within, withers away at the choice before him.

All he can muster is a grim nod to his maester as he returns to his wife, one final time. 

Aemma, even despite her current torment, finds a faint smile at seeing her husband once more. Her mind is less clouded, her body less addled with pain as she properly greets her king.

“Viserys…” Her voice is faint and wispy, as though merely speaking was a herculean task. 

Tears cloud the vision of the king, though he hides them with a smile to his wife. His Aemma.

“They’re going to bring the babe out now.”

And so they did. 

Amidst the screams of his wife, a sharp steel scalpel pressed against her soft, swollen belly – blood soon pouring out from within the queen like a deep red sea, staining her linen underdress and the pristine sheets below her. Amidst her thrashing turned feeble attempts of escape. Amidst her moaning turned to fleeting breaths. 

The last thing Aemma Arryn experienced in this world was great pain, and great fear. 

A babe, quiet and still is pulled out from her at last.

“A boy, Your Grace.” Mellos replies, though any celebration from the revelation is soured. 

The infant is silent, and the room grows cold. The King holds the bloody, small thing in his arms and weeps for his wife and son.

“Maester Mellos!” a handmaiden voices, “There is another!”

The room blurs around Viserys as another babe is pulled from Aemma Arryn. With a few strong pats to the infant’s back, it’s bawling fills the room. A flicker of life is breathed into the somber scene.

“A girl, my King.” The maester announces. 

A daughter.

Viserys looks at the small, crying baby now being swaddled in soft linens. Muck and blood wiped from her as her crying continues. Tears blur his vision once more, barely able to see the small patch of white hair crested atop her head. 

For a moment, he is filled with the overwhelming desire to name his newest daughter, Aemma. After the mother she will never know in this life. Though, looking at the ghastly scene before him, he thinks better than to condemn the girl to such a fate. 

A name was a powerful thing, and Viserys was a man of many cryptic beliefs.

Aemma would not do.

“Maevys,” he breathes. A new name, a fresh start, a blank page. “Maevys…my daughter. My princess.”

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

To suddenly be an older sister was an odd thing, Rhaenyra Targaryen had thought.

To suddenly be a motherless child, an even odder one. 

The eldest princess looks down at the babe lying in her fine wooden cradle, swathed in soft cloths. Maevys had finally quieted, after hours of squawking and shrieking, as if her cries should make up for the one’s her brother never had the chance to utter. 

Her sister was small, too small for even an infant. Pale as well, as though all her strength had been drained from her from the mere attempt of being born. 

If you could call it such a thing. 

Rhaenyra was haunted by the news of what had become of her mother. Her mother, once so full of life and laughter and love – reduced to a broodmare of a woman. So much so, that it became her undoing. 

The image of her sister however, soothed the princess. Perhaps a piece of her mother still lay before her.

She had a little sister, a girl to love and cherish and tell stories of their mother to. A girl she and Alicent could parade around with and take under their wings. Is that what sisters did?

Rhaenyra leans closer to the cradle. Did I look like this once?

The infant has all the hallmark Targaryen features: silver-white hair and expressive purple eyes. Perhaps she even had the Arryn look about her, some remnants of their mother. Though, only time would tell.

Rhaenyra feared, though, that the girl would not live very long at all. The babe was a weak looking thing after all. She even heard hushed whispers amongst her mother’s handmaidens, that the maester did not expect the girl to live past a week. The nickname, “The Porcelain Princess” had already begun to circulate throughout the castle walls due to her sister’s delicate state. Though no one would dare utter the words in front of the girl’s father or older sister.

“Maevys,” Rhaenyra breathed and watched as the little girl stirred, as though she already recognized her name, “You must prove them wrong, Maevys. You must stay.” Her voice quivers at the end of her plea, a hand grasping the babe’s cradle so hard, Rhaenyra’s knuckles turn white. 

And so, Maevys did.

Author's Note: hello there! i hope you enjoyed this very depressing and grim first chapter (I promise they wont ALL be like this). this is the beginning of what will hopefully be a pretty lenghty fic, which will come to focus on the ~eventual~ relationship between maevys and aemond. this is my second aemond fic (i am not immune to his charm) and i will be updating this alongside another project that is currently ongoing. because of this, updates may be a little sporadic, but i am dedicated to both series :) i hope you all enjoy this story! i have many ideas for many characters that i cannot wait to put to page and share with you all. thank you so much for reading <3

[fayes-fics]

I'm sad I can't create like I used to. I used to write for hours every day, sometimes through the night, words pouring from me like a compulsion. Realistically, that level of effort was never likely sustainable for long. In hindsight, it's almost surprising it lasted as long as it did. But that doesn't prevent the natural instinct to compare output then to now.

These days, the writing muse is much more fitful/fickle. I thought it might be waning interest in the act of writing itself or in the subject matter I'm writing about. But, while those are factors, I think it's actually something else - the burden of expectation. Not necessarily from others but from myself, really. A relentless need to always be better, striving for growth (even if the result doesn't bear that out, lol), especially now that I have more followers to, hopefully, entertain. The preoccupation with my writing being good enough is exhausting tbh, and I'm quite certain it is what stymies my progress on my WIPs most of the time. I'll open a document and be put off, seeing it as a herculean task to summon the requisite effort to write to this imaginary standard I have set for myself. Ridiculous, isn't it?

Anyway just to say, I'm sorry my output rate isn't what it used to be when I was new to writing. I'm not sure it will ever go back to those days, tbh. But I do hope to keep writing. I'm just being sanguine about it all.

Thanks for reading this long, indulgent rambling/musing; well done if you did. I'm sure I'll delete it when I'm feeling less philosophical, haha.

Love to all. 😁🧡

[aka-indulgence]

Meteor Shower

Finally got around to writing a Ramattra thing that isn’t based on an AU in my head that requires an introduction first jfhksdjfs I want him to treat me special 😭

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night to Ramattra’s affections. A few minutes awake wouldn’t hurt…

(Reader/Ramattra)

(Also there are suggestive themes in here so be warned! Not explicit but theres some steamy kissing scenes >//<)

—————

You were slowly drawn from your sleeping state.

You were warm. Tired. The blanket was heavy on you, and you felt the most comfortable you’ve ever been in a long time.

You slowly blinked your eyes opened, feeling like a herculean task in of itself. Something was pressing against your cheek insistently, pecking you over and over. A weight shifted over you, and you felt yourself getting squished against warm metal. It takes a few seconds of your brain booting up to realize that that pressure on your face was a mouth, kissing you over and over.

Ramattra couldn’t kiss like a human would. But every time he made contact with your cheek, your nose, your forehead, he would make a gentle smooching sound. Even when you turned to speak to him, he didn’t stop his kissing assault.

“R… Ram… mm…” you mumble as he kisses your lips over and over.

“Go back to sleep darling.” He drawls. Despite not having a throat or an organic voicebox to speak out of, he still sounded huskier than usual. He cradles the side of your head, his cable hair draped over your collarbone as he insistently presses his mouth against your cheek, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Hard to go to sleep… When a big omnic man keeps kissing me like this,”

“Mmm… I’m sorry, sweetness.” He purrs, sounding none too apologetic as he moves down your jaw and presses his mouth to your neck, and you moan quietly.

He pulls you more insistently to be under him as he continues to kiss you, and you feel your cheeks getting warm, when you feel a bit of his tongue come into play.

“This is… really nice Ram, but I don’t think I’m up for it right now,” you say honestly. Ramattra, despite being an omnic with no need for it, was… quite the insatiable man in bed. It was hard to get him to stop, and you really were too tired for it right now.

“I know. I just… couldn’t resist. You’re too sweet,” he chuckles into your throat, making you shudder.

You shuffle closer to him (even though you’re right against his chest), and he turns his body a bit so you aren’t crushed under him. Ramattra slows down just a little, placing a kiss on your temple, and you smile when he starts running his fingers down your hair and caressing your cheek. You reciprocate with a small kiss on his jaw, nuzzling into his hair.

“What time is it?”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping yet?”

“You know I don’t need sleep.”

You roll your eyes at him, if he even saw it. “Powered down mode. Whatever the equivalent is.”

Ramattra sighs wistfully, absent-mindedly nuzzling into your hair.

“I was going to, but I was enchanted by your sleeping visage. You look adorable with your eyes closed, with not a worry in the world… just how I like it. I meant to kiss you then go to ‘sleep’ but you mewled when I kissed you and… I couldn’t stop.”

“Clearly,” you giggle, when he ‘sniffs’ your cheek. He turns your face towards his and places his mouth against yours, and you share a gentle, sensual kiss.

You felt so soft and delicate when he had his hand behind your head like this, pressing into his kiss. You felt his omnic tongue prod at your lips, asking for entry. You opened obligingly, letting him explore your mouth and play with your tongue. It felt sweet, if a little heated. He hums, sending minute vibrations through your mouth and cheeks that felt quite pleasant. You pull back to take a breath, but Ramattra chases you, pushing his tongue back into you hungrily. You let him drink your breaths, pressing his body against you that felt desperate and needy.

He let you part after the second kiss, though he still had his hand on your cheek possessively. Your breaths were hot and you felt sensuous, even as your eyelids drooped. You tucked your head under his chin and you were about to ask him to come to sleep with you, when something catches your eye, outside the window.

“Wait, Ram… what’s that?”

Beyond the parted curtains, you see streaks of light start coming down from the sky. One at a time, then more follow. Ramattra sits up straight, looking at them.

“A meteor shower.” He announces, turning to you. “Do you want to see it?”

“Oh yes,” you respond, trying to force yourself to wake up more as you spin in bed and get into your slippers.

The air outside is cold when you step onto the balcony. You’re whipped by brisk winds that blow your hair up and you start to shudder. Wordlessly, Ramattra places his scarf over your shoulder, wrapping the ends around you like a blanket, and guides you towards the little bench. He sits with a soft ker-chunk, and pulls you into his lap. You shift until you’re comfortable, your legs hanging off to the side of his and watch the sky.

You came at a good time. The meteors were plentiful now, shooting across the sky and disappearing like a rain of light. It twinkles in your eyes, and with his scarf, now most of your body felt warm except your face. Your hand wanders until it finds his, and you absent-mindedly grasp his, your fingers interlocking with his mechanical ones.

“The sky’s so clear here.” You say, just above a whisper. He nods, his hair brushing against yours.

“It is. It is the privilege us omnics have… not having to rely on so many things that pollute our skies. Food. An excessive amount of light. I… enjoy the stars.”

The skies twinkle.

“... I like this,” Ramattra hums, “the quiet nights are nice, here. I don’t have anything planned out in the near future. Just more planning, and resting.”

He squeezes your hand.

“More time with you.”

When you turn to him, he was already looking at you. It felt natural to lean into his kiss even as the meteor shower continues.

You’re not sure how long you stayed on the balcony. It could be somewhere from a few minutes to half an hour. After the meteor shower ended and the stars took back their stage in the night sky, neither you or Ramattra had the urge to move from your position. The both of you silently looked up at the stars. Ramattra always got into an inquisitive, thoughtful mood when he looked at the stars like this. Maybe he was remembering his brother from the monastery. He still rubbed the back of your hand from time to time, interrupted by pecks to the top of your head.

It was easy to let your mind drift and your eyelids flutter, quietly slipping back into slumber.

…

It would be dawn, soon. And Ramattra hasn’t had any ‘shut-eye’. Not that he needed to, but…

Your arms have gone slack, and your head was slumped to the side. He leaned his head forward to look at your face, pulling your hair back. Just as he thought, you were already in deep sleep.

He pressed his mouth to your temples. It was hard not to, he was addicted to kissing you.

“Let’s go back inside, dear,” he whispers, carrying you with his hand under your neck and knees, bringing you back to the bed.

[lycandrophile]

recently i’ve been embarking on the next leg of my gender exploration journey, and the hardest part of it has honestly been navigating the way people see manhood as at odds with any sort of complex gender experience.

because the thing is, i’ve seen myself as a man for years now, and that hasn’t changed! i still very much consider myself trans male, even as my understanding of my gender has continued to evolve. i’ve been exploring parts of me that feel more connected to gender neutrality and androgyny and fluidity and even womanhood than i’ve previously acknowledged, and none of those things contradict the fact that i am a man! all of those different pieces of my gender coexist perfectly well and don’t cancel out the fact that i want people to recognize me first and foremost as a trans man.

but other people don’t see it that way, and i know that. if i express any sort of relationship to those other aspects of gender — especially to womanhood — i know for a fact that people will view that as me saying i’m not “really” or fully a man. they’ll assume it means i’m just partially a man (which i’m not) or masculine but not a man (which i’m also not) or just living as a man on the outside when my “real” internal gender isn’t male (which i’m definitely not).

so even acknowledging that the more complex parts of my gender even exist at all has been an uphill battle, because i know what they mean for the way people see me if i express them. it’s already a herculean task to get people to see me as a man without that!

i recently told my boyfriend about some of these experiences i’d been exploring, and even then, i was terrified. it seems silly — if there’s any single person in the entire world who would support me no matter what, it’s my boyfriend — but it still felt like i was immediately taken back to the fear of the first time i ever came out to someone. honestly, even then, i watered down a lot of my thoughts more than i wanted to because i was afraid they could be taken as implying something about my gender that i never wanted to imply.

and i don’t want to be afraid of it! i want to be able to talk about experiences like revisiting the gender neutrality i identified with when i first came out and discovering androgyny through spirituality and seeing myself in genderfluid characters and finding new bits of gender euphoria in being seen as a woman now that i’m on t, and i want to be able to do that openly without fear that it’ll be used against me, that it’ll be seen as me giving people permission to ignore the manhood that’s still the backbone of my gender experience.

i love being trans! i love being genderqueer! i love all the gender complexity and playfulness that comes with that for me! and i was never afraid to express it before i started living as a man openly because before then, i knew that i could always count on other queer people to get it even if most people didn’t. but now, i know there are a lot of queer people who wish i would be anything other than a man, who see manhood as antithetical to gender complexity and think that’s a radical view somehow, and suddenly there are a lot less people i can count on for that support.

manhood can be neutral. manhood can be androgynous. manhood can be fluid. manhood can be womanhood. manhood can be all those things at once. manhood can be any of a vast array of other things. manhood can be fucking anything because gender in general can be fucking anything, and it really seems like a lot of people have no problem acknowledging that until it’s applied to men.

restricting manhood to nothing but the most limited, simplified, binary version of it is bad. expanding our concept of what a man can be is good. playing with gender and stretching its boundaries and showing that binarism is a lie because none of these experiences actually contradict each other is good.

it’d be great if people — especially people who pride themselves on fucking with gender and smashing the binary and all that — could realize that, because i’m really getting tired of feeling like i’m being shoved back into the closet after so many years just because y’all can’t wrap your minds around the idea that some of the people with the cool weird genders are dudes.

[howlingday]

(Side A)

DON'T FUCK YOUR SISTER!

SHE'S YOUR SISTER!

Now, you may discover that you, or your sister, are actually adopted. You might even be stepsiblings! Neither of you may be blood related to one another, or if you are, you are actually cousins. In these circumstances...

STILL DON'T HAVE SEX WITH HER, YOU DEGENERATE GARBAGE HUMAN BEING!

MONTY! H! OUM! WE LITERALLY JUST COVERED ALMOST A DOZEN GIRLS AND EACH OF THEM ARE A BETTER OPTION BECAUSE THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL AND NOT RELATED TO YOU! SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now that you have identified your harem, you can properly plan your escape. Assuming you aren't dead or in jail, there are one of two ways this can end.

Either the system maintains equilibrium and you maintain a status quo of hijinks surrounded by girls who won't have sex with you, or you can fucking pick one and spend the rest of your life with her.

After all, everyone knows 100% of relationships in high school last forever because they are the strongest bonds anyone can ever have, never once failing in terms of romance.

It is highly advised you pursue the latter option because the longer you maintain a harem increases your chances of death by yandere.

To escape, you must pick a girl. This will be hard for you. If making up your mind wasn't difficult, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

But I promise you this; realizing you have feelings for someone and then telling them how you feel IS NOT FUCKING ROCKET SCIENCE. People literally do it ALL THE FUCKING TIME. Some people even do it MULTIPLE TIMES IN ONE DAY. But their lives are complicated, and if you don't want your life to be complicated, you need to STOP WASTING EVERYONE'S FUCKING TIME AND MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND FOR ONCE! If you need help, just remember...

...the Deredere girl is usually the best girl.

Once you've accomplished your Herculean task of deciding which girl you're most attracted to, your next step is to CONFESS your feelings to her. Because if you wait for her to do it, trust me, you're going to be waiting for a while.

This will not go smoothly, so when you make your confession, you'll want to make a few backups.

WRITE DOWN YOUR FEELINGS: EXACTLY how you feel as clearly and plainly as possible in an impossible to misunderstand language.

BE CLEAR IN WHO IS FOR/FROM: SIGN YOUR NAME and explicitly state who specifically this letter is addressed to.

TAKE A PICTURE: WITH YOUR PHONE and make digital and physical copies.

GET A TATTOO: AND DOGTAGS, both with the message etched IN A PLACE WITH NO LEWD CONNOTATION AT ALL!

It might sound excessive, but it's honestly still not enough for you. When you confess, another girl will likely interrupt with or without the intention to trip you up and misinterpret your message for someone else. Thankfully, you've already slipped your note into her personal locker in the event of such an emergency, and when her locker is destroyed or launched far away, you, being prepared, have already texted the message to her as well. The image might be corrupted, which is where the dogtags come in. And... Well, I think you get the idea.

It is important to get your message delivered and understood by her without you misinterpreting her answer as a rejection. Otherwise, you could find yourself in an increasingly wacky set of hijinks as the harem system maintains the status quo for at least another 12 episodes unless you lock that down.

If you have made these attempts and still been rejected, then you clearly haven't weathered the harem system long enough. Pick a different girl and try again in another three-to-four weeks. In the meantime, while you are weathering this storm, remember your ABCDs...

Awareness, Balance, Clenched fists, and

DON'T FUCK YOUR SISTER

This message was sponsored and paid for by her holiness

POPE RUBY II

[zafirosreverie]

Not enough (Bruno x Reader)

For @tolkien-fantasy hope you like it

__________________

You sighed and tried to block the pain from your mind as you let Casita help you to the nearest chair. You were sick of this, of not being able to do things by yourself and having to depend not only on your family, but on the house itself. It's not that you weren't grateful, but each day you felt more like a burden than a person.

"Thank you Casita" you whispered

You didn't even pay attention to the little tile that waved in greeting, you were too busy gently rubbing your hands and trying to hold back the angry tears that stung in your eyes.

You really missed the time when you could do more things, when you could run, jump, cook, play with your nieces and nephew, when simply moving from one chair to another was not an almost impossible herculean task for you. A time that seemed so far away now.

It started just three years after your wedding. You and Bruno were at your best, just enjoying each other's company, being goofy and happy, you had even made plans to make your family bigger (even if he turned red as soon as you mentioned it), it was all so perfect. Until the first blackout.

It had happened out of nowhere, one moment you were buying books with Pepa and the next everything had suddenly gone dark. By the time you woke up, you were already at home, in your bed, with the whole family looking at you with concern while Julieta tried to bring down your fever. Your sister-in-law didn't know what caused it, and despite what she might say, the soft smiles she gave you and how much she cared for you, you knew that a part of her had never stopped feeling guilty, because no matter how much magical food she gave you, you never healed.

Things had only gotten worse for you since that day, blackouts occurring more and more frequently, your joints and muscles getting weaker, condemning you to a life of constant pain. At first, you didn't want to say anything, you didn't want to worry Bruno or give Julieta more work, but when Pepa had to carry you back in her arms because your legs couldn't bear your weight anymore, you had to admit that something was wrong with you.

Your husband hardly ever left your side since then, saying that he didn't help the town much anyway. Alma accepted it, too worried that something could happen to the person she saw as another child, Julieta scolded you for not going to her every time something hurt and Pepa had made it her mission not to lose sight of you in the strange times when her brother was not with you.

"You can't leave me alone with those two, Y/N" she had told you "I'd go crazy"

"You already are" you teased softly

She smiled at you, but you could see in her eyes the same fear that invaded them all. They never told you anything, but you knew that Bruno had tried to look into your future to find out how he could help you or what would happen to you, when would you get better? But he never shared that vision, and deep inside you knew the answer: you never would.

It was hard at first, but you were strong for him, because you knew that the only person more terrified than you was your husband. He was afraid of losing you, of not being able to do anything for you, and even though you felt the same fear of leaving him, you decided that you couldn't let that paralyze you, that regardless of whether you had much or little time left, you were going to enjoy it with your family. 

Your nieces and nephew were quick to get used to your situation. Isabela tried to act as if she could take care of you by herself, she would spend afternoons with you after school and she would fill your hair with beautiful flowers to cheer you up when you felt bad. Often she and Camilo competed over who could make you smile the most.

Luisa was extremely careful with you. She had just gotten her gift just two years before and she was terrified of hurting you with her strength, so she was content to just talk to you from the door. Mirabel, your precious butterfly, was the one who kept you the most company.

The girl was a miracle, you had told Julieta, who lit up the whole room with her mere presence. It didn't matter if Pepa or Bruno were keeping you company, Mirabel was always, always by your side, telling you how her day had gone, what things she had found, showing you her drawings and simply making you feel warmer every time she smiled at you.

However, everyone knew that it was Dolores who took care of you the most. The girl was silent, but her gift had turned out to be the most useful in helping you. She was always aware of you, your heart rate, your breathing, everything. If you started to get agitated, the girl immediately warned any adult who was nearby, she was like your little personal sentinel, always watching over you even if she wasn't around.

So you weren't surprised when Bruno rushed into the kitchen, almost tripping over his own feet. You smiled lovingly at him when he dropped in front of you with concern etched on his face. You were pleasantly surprised how after so many years, he was still incredibly handsome in your eyes and how he could look at you with such love and adoration, as if he hadn't spent the last few years practically having to shadow you.

"What happened?" he asked worried

"Nothing" you smiled "I just got a little dizzy, but I'm fine, Casita helped me"

He smiled back gently, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, his touch as light as a feather. That was another thing he knew you hated: that nowadays your conversations were just to say who had helped you. There were no longer funny stories, innocent gossip or funny anecdotes, your life was slowly ending between the same walls.

"Amor..." you whispered

"Yes?"

"...please"

Your husband's expression changed to one of intense pain. It wasn't the first time you had this conversation, that you begged him to tell you what he had seen in that vision. You weren't stupid, you knew there was no cure, otherwise Julieta's food would have already worked, you didn't want to know how it would happen, if it would be painful or if you would go off quietly between dreams. All you wanted to know was how much time you had.

"Y/N -" he started

"I need to know, Bruno" you interrupted him "I don't even know if I'll make it to next Christmas"

It was a depressing thought, because it was September, and if it weren't for the intense pain you felt all the time and that had gotten worse in recent weeks, you wouldn't be making such a suggestion knowing that Dolores was listening to you. But you felt that now was not the time to be careful.

"Mi vida-"

"Please" you begged "...just tell me, how much time do I have?"

Bruno looked at you with an intense mix of fear, pain, and regret, but with a flash of love, love so deep you could almost feel it in your very bones. He sighed and took your hands gently. His grip was shaky and you knew, even before the words left his mouth, that his response was causing him great pain.

"Not enough"

[phoukanamedpookie]

Unpopular opinion: Fandom overestimates how much Zuko resents Azula.

Zuko himself said that Azula's not the one he's angry at in "The Beach." I know that's not a lot to go on, but this was a deliberate choice on the writers' and showrunners' part. I'm ignoring the comics because they do every character dirty and betray the major themes and messages of the show.

Contrary to something I'm seeing more often in headcanons and media analysis, the purpose of art (as opposed to propaganda or commerce) is not to deceive its audience. So, when a character in a moment of vulnerability reveals their innermost thoughts and feelings, it's best to assume they're telling the truth.

What does Zuko say that night by the bonfire? Azula asks him, "Who are you angry at? Is it me?"

And Zuko says, "No."

Canon!Zuko is many things, but he's not: a) a good liar, b) shy about expressing his anger, or c) afraid of Azula, even when he should be.

Fandom often ignores "The Beach" when analyzing these two, but it's the most revealing episode about what they're really like without external forces pushing them to be at odds. What's that like? Remarkably normal. The distrust and resentment one would expect from them are simply not there.

In fact, the kuai ball game proves that they work extremely well together when they're on the same side, just as they did when they fought together in the Crystal Catacombs. They're very much in sync. It's impressive when you think about it.

The tragedy of the final Agni Kai is that they don't hate each other, and they didn't really have a choice to become enemies. They were forced into deadly conflict by things outside of their control. One could argue that the music of the Last Agni Kai symbolizes Zuko's growing awareness, perhaps subconscious, that him fighting his own sister (whom he can tell is struggling) for the throne is neither noble nor honorable but deeply tragic.

With all that in mind, I'm not sure that I'm completely on board with the idea that there's so much bad blood between the two of them that it's a Herculean task to overcome it. Honestly, without the grown-ups playing them against each other, I believe they'd find it surprisingly easy to get to a healthy place together. Knowing the two of them, they'd likely find a sort of macabre humor in it.

"How are you two getting along so well?"

"We are brother and sister."

"But... she tried to kill you. Multiple times."

"Duh! We're Fire Nation royalty. It's family tradition."

"Yeah, if you don't try to kill your sibling at least once, are you really family?"

[leighsartworks216]

Love Sick

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A SIMPLE KISS HOW DID IT END UP LIKE THIS IT WAS ONLY A KISS

Warnings: references to Astarion's 200 years under Cazador

Word Count: 478

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

He cradles your cheek in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone; it's all he needs to do to get your heart soaring. He smirks as the sound of the drum in your chest no doubt reaches him loud and clear. He leans forward, brushing his nose against yours. You can feel his breath as he speaks.

"There's no need to be nervous, darling," he coos sweetly. He chuckles as he adds, "I don't bite."

It's a Herculean task trying to think straight when he's so close. His cold hand is like fire against your skin, sending shock waves throughout your body. You have a hard time just trying to tear your eyes from his mouth, mere inches from yours, but every time you meet his eyes you can see the amusement within. He enjoys your struggle.

"I've never- I mean, I have, I just-" You swallow thickly, trying to get your head screwed on straight again. Gods, you were making such a fool of yourself. "I don't know how to do this."

He hums quietly, almost appraisingly, like he's trying to work out if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "I can show you," he purrs lowly. He trails his nose across your cheek as he leans to your ear, lips brushing the lobe with each word. "Let me teach you how."

You let out a shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut at just how close he is now. Your body yearns for him, yearns to be closer, yearns to know what it's like to be kissed by this beautiful elf. It was a wonder he approached you at all - you're nothing special. You'd believed all your life that you were invisible to most people, too unimportant for anybody to even see you. And yet he had. He spotted you within the crowd and walked over, offered to buy you a drink and started chatting you up. It made you feel like the most important person in the world.

"Would you like that?" he whispers. Your breath hitches when his lips press just under your jaw. Your face must be beet red by now; your only saving grace is the privacy this corner table provided.

"Yes," you sigh. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. They ghost along the edge of your jaw until they hover just over your lips. You can't breathe. All you can think about is what he would taste like.

He teases you further, kissing lightly at the corner of your mouth. You make a truly undignified sound, a desperate whimper. He quite enjoys it. "Follow me."

You watch, totally enamored, as he stands, taking your hand in his and helping you up. You feel like a love-sick teenager as you're pulled along behind him, out of the tavern and into the night, toward a manor in the distance...

---

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueencosplay @tototini @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash @rosxtinted @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @the-lake-is-calling @nyxmainex @squid-killer @godoffuckedupcats @dontneedbiologytoadopt

[jerzwriter]

Thank you, Nonny, for this ask. This worked out perfectly because Ethan x Kaycee celebrated their first wedding anniversary - the "paper" anniversary. I hope you enjoy this little drabble!

Story: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Kaycee MacClennan (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 845 Summary: Ethan doesn't get the logic behind the "paper" anniversary, but as they celebrate a special day, he may have something up his sleeve.

A/N: Participating in @julychallenge Pink: Romance & Love

Ethan groaned as the first beams of sunlight streamed through the window of their beach home; shifting under the covers, he reached around, searching the bed for his missing wife. Typically, he’d be the first one up, attempting to lure the love of his life out from under the covers with the aroma of her favorite breakfast cooking on the stove. A Herculean task, at best. But even when being coaxed with the things she loved most... him and delicious food... she'd beg for just a little more precious sleep. He had no doubt of Kaycee’s love for him, but if she were forced to choose between him and sleep? He wasn’t confident that he’d be the final victor.

That's what made today's narrative so unusual. Kaycee was already up and about, bustling with the energy of a morning person that they both knew she was not. He heard her climbing the stairs, humming a song he knew well enough to place as belonging to Taylor Swift but not well enough to determine the song. She lept into the room with a grin brighter than the morning sun.

“Good morning, gorgeous!” she chirped, leaning over to kiss his forehead.  

“Good morning," he groggily replied. "Why are you so cheerful at the crack of dawn? While we’re on vacation, no less?”

Kaycee giggled and pulled the comforter down, tossing pink heart-shaped confetti over his bare torso with a playful giggle.

“Because it’s our anniversary!” She jumped onto the bed and threw her arms around him as he sat up."

“Mmmhhh,” he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Can we spend the day here? In bed?” His fingers reached up and played with the hem of her shirt. "I know how to make it very fun.”

“I know for a fact that you do!” she smiled, placing another peck on his cheek. “And we’ll get to that, I promise! But we have other things to do first.”

“Like you throwing confetti at me?” he grinned.

“Paper confetti,” she emphasized. “Because it’s our paper anniversary.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, unable to hide his disdain. “Our paper anniversary. Who comes up with this nonsense? Hallmark? So they can sell more paper cards?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "It's just a tradition, Ethan! It symbolizes a new beginning—the fragility of a new marriage. I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, first, I don't think of our marriage as fragile, and second, paper? Paper has no value. What’s next cardboard? Perhaps oak tag?”

 “It’s not about the material, Ethan. It’s about what it represents. There are plenty of ways to make it special.”

“Like writing each other love notes?” he teased.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, rushing to the dresser and returning with a red envelope in hand. “An anniversary card for you!”

But this time, it was Ethan's turn to surprise her. Reaching into the drawer of his nightstand, he pulled out a small pink envelope of his own and a small bouquet of paper flowers. Kaycee gasped, kicking her feet with delight as he handed them to her.

“Ethan!” she beamed. “When did you... how.... this is adorable!”

“I’ve been working on it for weeks. Admittedly, I needed to call Sienan in for assistance after a miserable first attempt." He stopped to watch his wife, simply glowing as she gazed at the bouquet in her hand, lovingly tracing the edges of each flower and leaf with her fingers. “I know it looks like a third-grader made it, but without her help, I wouldn't have surpassed pre-school.”

“Stop it!” Kaycee insisted, leaning over for a kiss. “I love this! I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“I know I’m not normally a mushy guy...”

“No! You? Who is spreading such malicious lies!” Kaycee teased as Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Are you done?”

Kaycee shrugged with a delicate smile on her lips. “Perhaps?”

Ethan cleared his throat and pulled her close under his arm. “I may not be a romantic at heart, but it’s our anniversary. I can't believe it's been one year since the second best day of my life.”

"Second best?" She frowned. "And what's the first?"

"Easy. The day you walked into Edenbrook's lobby and turned my world upside down - in the best possible way."

“Aww, Ethan!” Kaycee beamed.

“When I realized we’d be spending it here, the same place we said our vows a year ago, I knew you’d need a bouquet, so..."

“I would,” she smiled. “I mean, I love it, but why do I need it?"

Ethan glanced at the clock. “In nine hours, it will be exactly one year since we said our vows on this beach... and I thought we could repeat them later today, just the two of us. That is if you’re still willing to say them again after being saddled with me for a year!”

“Ethan,” she said, lovingly placing her paper bouquet to the side for protection before jumping on top of him and peppering him with dozens of little kisses. “Are you kidding me? I love you and want you more with each passing day. This is forever, hon!”

“Then it's a good thing our insurance has good mental health benefits,” he teased, rolling Kaycee onto her side. "I'm grateful you're a little crazy."

"Mmm-hmm. I'm crazy about you! Now, did you mention something about spending the morning in bed with me? Something about making it fun?"

"You better believe it," he grinned, pulling her t-shirt over her head and trailing soft kisses down her neck. "Challenge accepted. Happy Anniversary, Kaycee. I love you to the paper moon and back.”

A/N 2: I originally named this Paper Bouquet - but that gave too much away. But this is the way I imagine the bouquet to look:

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[cha0ticspacebi]

Creeping Death

You get sick and your boyfriend Eddie comforts you.

Pairing: Boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.3 K

Tags/Warnings: Reader gets her period. Otherwise this is all fluff. Eddie being a dork, hurt/comfort. I don't care if it's SFW, MDNI 18+ only

Author's Note: If anyone has been wondering where the hell I've been I've been sick as fuck and this is inspired heavily by true events.

It started with a familiar tickle in your throat. One that seemed to come right around this time every single year no matter how careful you tried to be. You were getting sick. Hey. It comes with the territory of teaching 23 tiny germ favorites on a daily basis. Wanting to try and fight it before it got too bad, you stopped at the drugstore on the way home and grabbed the essentials. Preparing to hunker down for a little extra sleep. Hoping that you’d wake up with that tickle gone in the morning.

Well morning came and you were so congested you couldn’t breathe right out of both sides of your nose.

MDNI Banner Credit

Rolling over and snatching your phone from the nightstand you sent out two messages. One to work saying you’d be out for the day, letting them know where they could find emergency sub plans and another to your boyfriend Eddie. Just a quick Hey, I’m feeling pretty gross. Not going into work. We’ll have to reschedule our date tonight. Love you. And with that you went back to sleep.

Being sick fucking sucks, is the first thought you have as you wake up feeling worse than when you did earlier. You knew you needed to crawl out of bed and grab the medicine you’d had the foresight to get the night before; But that sounded like a task of herculean proportions. So instead you decided to lay there for as long as possible until a noise startled you awake from where you must’ve fallen asleep again.

You could hear footsteps moving around in the kitchen area of your small apartment. The pattern of movement sounded so familiar and it wasn’t fear that filled you, it was relief. Relief that probably in just a moment you’d be greeted with that adorable head of floppy brown hair and the biggest, most beautiful brown eyes ever to grace the face of the earth.

“Hey angel,” his voice was low as he poked his head in your bedroom door, “You feeling any better?”

You poked just your head out of the soft blanket cocoon you’d been living in now for over 12 hours, “No.” Your voice was scratchy and talking immediately brought out a harsh cough, “What time is it?”

“Oh baby you sound awful,” he ignored your question and stepped inside the room more. Sitting just on the edge of the bed, “Have you taken any medicine in a while?”

You shook your head, “S’too cold out there.”

He laughed. That alone was enough to brighten your mood for just a moment. Until you started coughing again, “Already my little germ queen, come on out. You’re going to take some medicine, shower and I’m going to make you some tea and soup.”

Your defiant noise of protest caused Eddie’s brow to raise, “You know I’m right baby. Come on, you’ll feel better if you get up. Do this for me and then you can lay back down. I promise, but you need to eat something.” His hand finds the small of your back even though it’s covered in many layers of blanket, “Sweetheart.” His tone changed when you made no effort to move. It was lowered to one that left no more room for discussion.

Slowly you squirmed out of the bed and downed the medicine he handed you before trudging your way to the bathroom for a hot shower. But first, sleeping for so long naturally caused your bladder to fill and as soon as you stood up it was full to bursting. Any relief you might’ve felt was short lived though because it didn’t take long for you to figure out why you felt more run down than normal.

Eddie’d gone into the kitchen just as he said he would and was just pouring the hot water into your favorite mug when he hears you let out an agonizing FUCK!  

In his never ending attentiveness he rushed to the door and tapped at it, “Baby are you ok? S’everything alright?”

“I started my goddamn period!” Another groan came from the other side of the door, “This should be a fucking crime!”

“Oh baby that sucks! Hold on just a second, I’ll be right back ok?” His gentle tone somehow made dealing with the fact that not only are you sick but now it just got a whole lot worse. After finishing up in the bathroom you decided to eat before taking a shower. Just as you opened the door Eddie was walking towards you.

“When you said you weren’t feeling good this morning I wasn’t sure if it was germy sick or period pains– guess I was right in getting both,” he gestured to the two distinctly different baskets in his large arms. One had cough drops, extra soft tissues, and a box of your favorite tea. The other had a few of your favorite snacks in a variety of salty and sweet, a new hot pad shaped like a potato that you can heat up in the microwave, and your preferred brand of pain relief. 

The pressure formed behind your eyes instantly. Your stuffy nose began dripping as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. Without a word you collapsed into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and crying into his faded Sabbath shirt. Letting out a whiny sort of muffled thank you as you speak into his shirt, “Eddie you didn’t have to do all this.”

His arms being already occupied he instead leaned down slightly and kissed the top of your head, “None of that. I know I didn’t have to baby. I wanted to. I love you–” he kissed you again, “Gotta make sure my girl’s taken care of.”

After telling him that you’d shower after eating you followed behind him like a lost puppy into the kitchen but he stopped you, “Go sit on the couch. It’s almost done and I’ll bring it to you.” 

The soup and tea he made you was just what you needed. The warmth from the broth soothed your raw throat and his presence next to you as you sat and watched reruns of cartoons from when you were kids soothed your very soul. Of course he insisted he do the dishes. He laughed at your weak protests, “Eds you know I’m feeling a little better. I can help with that.”

“Certainly not!” he stepped back into view holding an empty paper towel roll, “Do you hear that?” He held the roll to his lips. Your brow quirked up with curiosity at his playful antics, “The horns of Gondor call for you sweetheart!” He blew into the tube causing a noise that sounded remarkably close to the real thing as heard in your shared favorite movie. You erupted with laughter which, as good as it felt, was short lived because after just a moment you were coughing instead. He dropped the tube and started to go grab you a cough drop, but you stopped him, “M’ok baby.” You tried laughing again with just a little less enthusiasm, “Maybe just don’t be so freaking cute anymore.”

He laughed, “You’re the cute one angel. Now be a good girl and put The Fellowship in the player so we can watch it after your shower.”

✧༺ ☕︎ ༻✧

Your cold turned out to be a lot worse than you both thought. After a trip to the doctor’s and one round of antibiotics later you started to feel a bit better. But you like to think it’s most likely thanks to Eddie’s “expert” care. However, the morning after you were both sure that you weren’t sick anymore, Eddie got sick. He stayed over and when you rolled over to kiss him good morning, his forehead was burning up.

“Please honey,” you tried to reason with him, “You probably have what I have. Go to the doctor’s. You’ll feel better if you get some stronger medicine.”

He scoffed with a loud cough, “I’ve got all the medicine I need right here.” His “medicine” being his ringed fingers clutching at your thigh from where you both rested on the couch and the shot of whiskey in his hand. His fever broke and he was right as rain two days later.

[koji-haru]

As a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly

[Another short story for Halloween! Finally got the time to finish this one, phew.]

He could feel a sharp pain…somewhere in his body, he wasn’t sure anymore. Pain was everywhere, and his head was fuzzy, everything was a cacophony of screams and everything crashing and falling apart, and the world was a messy blur of greys and blacks and gold, but most of all a sickeningly overwhelming amount of red. 

But things appeared to be getting better. The suffocating warmth all over him was subsiding as a certain kind of comfortable coldness overcame him, the heavy weight on his limbs appeared to ease down bit by bit, even the pain was gradually dissipating into the air. His body felt lighter as if it had been finally unchained from its millennia old prison. Floating higher and higher, away from all this chaotic mess.

“Nooo! Sir! SIR! Stay with me, sir! ADAM!”

And then…

And then…

…

“And then what happened?”

A bright light flashed before Adam, and when he blinked to adjust his eyesight, he was greeted with ruby red eyes heavy with concern, a delicate white-pale face with bright red cheeks adorning a slight frown, and silky smooth honey blonde locks. 

“Adam?,” Lucifer asked when the man didn’t respond and simply stared at him under some kind of stupor.

“He must have hit his head harder than I thought,” a smooth female voice answered. 

Adam turned to follow the source of the second voice and saw a tall, slender woman, with sharp eyes like that glistened purple jewels and hair that flowed like a golden waterfall. The ground beneath him felt soft to his skin, the light peeking through the foliage kissed him with warmth, and the songs between the trees calmed his mind in its tender embrace. Adam looked further beyond the two people beside him, and saw that he was somewhere where life was teeming unfettered by outside forces, safe and away from any danger. He was in paradise. Back at home.

“Hey, Adam, what’s wrong?” Lucifer placed a cool hand on Adam’s shoulder, a growing concern on his face. “What happened?”

“I– huh??,” Adam wondered aloud, his brain currently feeling like mush. It felt as if trying to form even a single coherent thought was a herculean task for him. But even then, somehow it felt like he shouldn’t be here. As if—

A stinging pain erupted at the back of his head, his hair there suddenly feeling warm and moist. 

“Ow!”

“Lilith! Be more careful!,” chided Lucifer as he grabbed the red stained cloth away from the woman’s hand. “I’ll do it, and you can tell me what happened instead.”

Lilith leaned back on her knees, a hand under her chin as she carefully recalled the event that led to this. “Well, I was looking for Adam so that we could have lunch together as usual when I saw him climbing that tree.” She turned her attention to a bewildered Adam, who was still sitting speechless on the ground beside her. “I’ve told you time and time again to not climb that try. It’s enormous and full of weird twists and spikes, and it even oozes some weird goo. And now look, you slipped and fell.” Lilith glanced back up to Lucifer, and continued, “I called out for him to get back down but this idiot was too stubborn and ended up falling and getting caught in the roots. I had to drag him out.”

The fuzzy memory in Adam’s head was slowly clearing. He was doing that, wasn’t he? No wonder his head hurt so much. Just thinking was stinging his mind as if something sharp was poking and slicing pieces of his brain out. He should ease up a bit, yeah.

“Adam! You should’ve listened to Lilith. You know she only cares for you, she’s not trying to control you,” Lucifer reminded Adam as he gently cupped the first man’s face between his hands, pulling them closer to his. “Don’t go near that tree again, okay? It’s not safe.” 

Deep red eyes, silky like molten magma, stared straight at Adam's own golden ones, and he couldn’t help but nod and agree at the angel’s instruction. Swallowing the little bit of saliva in his mouth to relieve the dryness of his throat, Adam finally said something coherent, “Ah, uhm, okay, I won’t do it again. Sorry for worrying you both.”

Adam remained seated on the ground, as both Lucifer and Lilith had insisted, and watched the two from a distance gather today’s lunch instead. There was a dull, almost numbing, pain on the back of his head, though somehow it wasn’t something that concerned him at all. Lucifer had wrapped a cloth around his head, to stop the bleeding, apparently. Adam reached out to the back of his head and lightly touched where he guessed his supposedly injury was. Yup, there was a slightly stinging pain whenever he put some pressure on his head, though somehow, the sensation felt rather misplaced to him like the pain was real, just that it didn’t belong there. 

There wasn’t anything else for Adam to really do but to simply remain seated and wait, and allow the confusion in his mind to simmer and cook. Did he really hit his head that hard? Everything just felt so…distant to him. He could grasp and feel the soft grass between his fingers, he could feel the way the breeze carried away the heat on his skin, the songs of the birds definitely reached his ears. And yet, they all felt so far away from his grasp; so disconnected from him somehow. This kind of sensation, it was something he had never felt before. He felt so so lost; his grip on the blades of grass tightened, almost plucking them off the soil, the birds’ sweet chirps sounded more like a cacophony of deafening screeches, and no matter how cool the wind’s kiss was, sweat kept forming on his palms and forehead. It felt like he was in a spiral, a fast whirlpool that kept dragging him down deeper into dark depths. 

“Adam? Adam!”

Adam blinked and then Lucifer was back in front of him. His fingernails were covered in dirt and stained green, and there was a mess of loose soil and torn grass around him alongside multiple scratch marks. 

“There, there.” Lucifer pulled Adam towards him into a gentle hug as one hand rubbed his back to ease the tremors that overtook his body. “You poor thing, I’m here now,” he said as he placed a light kiss on top of Adam’s head.

“W-wha..? What’s happening?,” gasped Adam as he gripped onto Lucifer’s robe with trembling hands. Why was he shaking? And why couldn’t he stop it? It felt as if he had lost control of his own body as his limbs moved on their own and his mind reacted to things that weren't even there. 

Gentle, but firm arms held Adam even tighter as a mesmerising song pervaded the air around him, relaxing the tense muscles in his body and soothing the chaos in his mind. The sweet melody surrounded him in a comfortable embrace as he felt it kiss his eyelids shut until serenity claimed him. 

“That’s right, just fall asleep now.”

—-

The next time Adam opened his eyes, his head felt much clearer. It was as if a thick fog had finally been blown away. Adam rubbed the sleep away from his eyes, there was still a dull pain in the back of his head, but other than that, he actually felt much better like he was finally back on the controls. A strong hand helped him carefully sit up when he struggled a little to push himself up. 

“Oh good, you’re finally awake,” smiled Lucifer, still holding his hand, the other supporting his back. 

Adam looked around, he was on an oddly comfortable makeshift bed made of leaves, they were somewhere relatively dark, surrounded by rugged stone walls, some sunlight seeped through what he thought was the entrance. It felt…

“We brought you back to our cave,” Lucifer continued. “Seeing how you weren’t too well earlier.”

That was right. No wonder the place felt familiar to him, of course, he was just back to his cave that he shared with Lilith. Well, that should have been obvious to him quicker. 

“Apple?” Lucifer held a single red apple on his palm, outstretched towards him in an open offer. 

A low rumbling sound echoed in the cave, and Adam felt his face heat up as he gratefully accepted the fruit from Lucifer. “Thank you.”

The small fruit crunched under his teeth as its sweet juices coated his tongue and slowly satiated the hunger in his stomach. It was crisp and fresh, and perfect in every way as everything else in the garden, and yet, somehow there was something in the back of his mind that held back a bit every time he took a bite of the apple despite the almost painful hunger he felt in his stomach. Eventually, he put the half eaten apple down onto a small leaf basket beside, his body having decided to have had enough of it.

“Are you not hungry?,” asked Lucifer, red eyes almost glowing in the low light. 

“I am, it’s just that…I’m not really fond of apples,” replied Adam, pulling away from the angel’s hold. The cold touch made his skin feel itchy all over. 

“Hmm, I was sure you liked them though,” muttered Lucifer. “Oh well, more for me!” Lucifer reached over and grabbed the abandoned apple on the basket and took a bite off of it, the juices flowing down his chin, looking somewhat golden under the dim lighting. And were his teeth always that sharp?

“Lilith should be back soon,” said Lucifer between munches. “She should have other fruits with her.”

“Is Adam awake yet?”

Speak of the Devil’s wife first woman. Lilith’s form casted a long shadow into the cave as she entered, carrying with her a basket full of fruits. 

“Oh, it’s good that you’re up.” Lilith headed straight towards Adam, sitting just across his left. “Here, I got you some of your favourites,” she said as she pushed the basket forward to Adam. Inside were a variety of ripe fruits, from grapes and oranges to bananas and strawberries. 

Adam eyed the fruits handed over to him, they were all fresh and perfectly ripe, and were all of his favourites; it was obvious that Lilith had carefully taken her time to find food that Adam most preferred to eat. “Since when were you this nice to me?,” blurted out Adam, the words just naturally flowing out of his throat.

There was silence in the cave. One moment, then two, then finally, laughter bounced between the stone walls. Both Lucifer and Lilith’s laughter sounded throughout the entirety of the cave, making Adam shrink inwards to himself as he felt like he had said something completely ridiculous. 

“Oh dear, how hard did you really hit your head?,” asked Lilith between chuckles. Then, turning to Lucifer, she asked, “Are you sure you healed him properly?”

“I did! Really, I did!” Lucifer wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to control his laughter. “But I guess our dear Adam here is just as easily confused as always,” said Lucifer, his voice suddenly turning low and smooth.

That seemed to pull Adam out of his embarrassment, letting irritation take over instead. “I-I’m not confused!,” he exclaimed. “You never liked my company, you never cared about me! So I don’t know why you’re suddenly being overly nice to me,” he pointed accusingly at Lilith. He had always known that Lucifer favoured Lilith over him, but he didn’t like this joke at all, especially since it was made at his expense. They could play together all they wanted, but he wished they would at least leave him out of it!

The laughter that once echoed in the cave quickly subsided into an awkward silence with both Lucifer and Lilith exchanging glances between each other. Adam simply crossed his arms in a huff; there they went again, leaving him out of the loop. And while it was expected and he was used to it at this point, that didn’t mean that it stopped annoying him.

Lilith cleared her throat, concern heavy in her eyes and an awkward smile on her lips. “Why wouldn’t I care for you? I’m your wife Adam.” She reached out and tried to hold one of Adam’s hands, though he quickly pulled it away. 

“Come here Adam, let me take a look at you, maybe I did miss something,” said Lucifer as he gestured for Adam to come beside him. Again, his eyes appeared to glow slightly under the dim light, though rather than looking like jewels on rock, they felt closer to a predator lurking in muddy waters. 

And so, without a second thought, Adam got up and ran. Where would he run away to? He wasn’t sure, but he simply didn’t feel safe anymore in that cave with those two. He had no idea why he felt he needed to get away from them, Lilith was his equal and destined partner, and Lucifer was their guardian angel, there was nothing to be afraid of. But still, his instincts told him otherwise. 

Eve. Right, right. Eve, his actual wife, where was she? He needed her presence right now, she wouldn’t lie to him, make fun of him or betray him. Adam ran all over Eden, searching every tree, every cave from big to small, and even behind waterfalls to find his wife, and yet, no matter how thorough and meticulous he searched, he found no trace of her. Nothing at all. Not even a sign that she was ever in the garden, as if all traces of her were simply erased from existence. 

Eventually, Adam found himself back at the tree. Its twisted roots arching through the soil in gigantic curves and spirals. Its branches meandered through the air as hard spikes while a certain black liquid oozed from its every pore; thick and heavy, its smell pungent like misery. Adam felt it calling for him. To reach out, and allow its thorns to pierce through him and the black mess to swallow him whole. He felt his legs move on their own, closer and closer towards the twisted tree. 

“Adam!” 

A small hand grabbed his shoulder and quickly pulled him back and away from the tree. 

“Adam! What are you doing?!,” asked a frantic Lucifer as he shook Adam. “We looked all over the garden for you! And then to find you back here..!” Lucifer brought Adam closer into a tight hug as if afraid he would lose the first man if he let go. “Please, Adam, talk to us. What’s wrong?”

Not long after Lucifer had pulled Adam away from the tree, Lilith had arrived, gasping for air and out of breath. “Adam..!” Then she rushed in to join the two in a hug. 

Adam struggled and squirmed between their arms until finally he managed to slip away and push them from him. “Where’s Eve?,” he asked. “I looked everywhere for her, but I can’t–”

“Who’s Eve?,” asked Lilith, looking at both Adam and Lucifer.

Lucifer merely shrugged, seemingly just as confused as Lilith. 

“Eve? The second woman? My wife?,” Adam clarified. 

Hurt flashed in Lilith’s eyes before she looked away, hugging herself. “What has gotten into you, Adam?” 

“There’s no second woman, Adam. It’s just you, me and Lilith,” said Lucifer as he pulled a quietly sniffling Lilith close to him, to comfort her. 

Adam felt a tension on his legs. Either he was going to go off on another frenzied sprint or he was going to buckle under the stress that had been plaguing him since he first woke up after having fallen from that tree. 

Sensing that Adam was back on the edge, Lucifer lowered his voice and made himself appear even smaller, less threatening. “Calm down, Adam. Just talk to us. We’re not here to bring you harm, okay?” 

 There it was again. Red like molten magma that burned through Adam’s very being. Glowing slightly in the fog that slowly approached the three. And again, Adam couldn’t help but agree to the angel’s suggestion. With a shaky sigh, Adam nodded his head and quietly said, “Okay.”

—--

Adam was the first man, and the first human. Lilith, the first woman, was made shortly after him. Lucifer, an angel from Heaven, was tasked to monitor and care for them in the garden of Eden. The three of them got along very well. Adam and Lilith’s relationship was going well and strong, and even Lucifer was part of it too, though that was kept a secret from Heaven. 

Apparently. 

That was what both Lucifer and Lilith had told Adam when they all finally got back to their cave and talked. Lilith never left Adam for Lucifer, and there was no second woman named Eve. 

After essentially scavenging for traces of this ‘Eve’ and with how both Lilith and Lucifer both acted towards him, the explanation made absolutely, 100% logical sense. All evidence pointed to them being truthful. Adam didn’t even have the memory to argue against them. No matter how hard he searched his mind, he couldn’t form an image of this ‘Eve’ or what she was even like. Where did he even get the name? Or the idea of a second woman? That fall really must’ve scrambled his brain.

“I’m sorry,” said Adam, looking down at the bedding he was sitting on. “I–I don’t know what came over me.”    

“Did you hear whispers from that tree?,” inquired Lucifer. “Asking you to come over and be absorbed into it?”

Adam shook his head, “No, not really. It just felt like…it was calling to me.” He looked out towards the entrance of the cave, still feeling the tendrils of temptation caressing his brain.

Lucifer sighed, “Adam, you and Lilith were specifically asked not to even go near that tree for a reason. It’s malignant.”

Weren’t they told not to eat the forbidden fruit instead? Adam wanted to ask, but clearly that tree bore no fruits. And why would eating a fruit be dangerous anyway? A malicious tree made more sense, and now that he really thought about it, he did vaguely remember being told by the angels about the tree. 

“I’m sorry, I promise to stay away from it,” Adam reassured, though the look on both Lucifer and Lilith’s face told him that they were far from convinced, which was fair enough, considering the stunt he just pulled off. “Really, I mean it this time.” And he did; the tree was obviously dangerous, the injury on his head a literal proof. He would have to be stupid to go near the tree again.

—-

The days following Adam’s little accident had been rather calm and peaceful, with a few minor misunderstandings here and there mainly due to Adam’s poor memory. But that wasn’t too much of a problem, Lilith and Lucifer were always kind enough to remind him when needed. And really, Adam couldn’t find any fault with the way he was living right now, but sometimes, he just felt as if the two were too close to him. Their casual touches, lingering warmth, gazes that were held for too long. He knew there was nothing wrong with that kind of closeness, they were, after all, together, but…he just felt that he needed some distance from them.

And distance from them did he get. Adam made sure to wake up before the first rays announced the start of the day, carefully untangling both Lucifer and Lilith’s limbs away from his body as he silently slid down from between the two. Lately, he barely had the time to be by himself, with at least one of the two always sticking with him, apparently still worried and concerned about what had happened a few days ago. Everywhere he went, they also went. They would be there when he would first open his eyes, when he would gather food, when he would simply take a walk, and before he would close his eyes for the day. In his every waking moment, either of their presence would be with him. It was sweet, the way they care too much for him, but Adam was starting to get sick of it. It felt suffocating. So when he stepped out of the cave, and was greeted by the crisp morning air alone, he felt rather liberated as if finally released from his chains. 

Adam took a leisurely stroll by the riverbank, following its gently meandering curves down rolling hills. It felt nice. The early birds’ morning greetings, the pleasant trickling of water as it curved around rocks, and slightly chilly air that latched onto his skin. He could see, just past the riverbank, the forest tree line, a doe and her fawn, a bear climbing a tree to get some honey, a shapely woman with long wavy red locks, mushrooms sprouting from tree barks…wait. Adam froze in his tracks before quickly turning around and back to where he thought he had seen another person. There it was, a bit of red peeking through the forest’s vast green. 

“Hello?,” Adam called out, a little anxious. No response. He went further into the forest, pushing past thick branches that seemed to insist on blocking his path. “Um, I don’t think I–” He pushed past the last branch blocking his view and all he saw was a small tree with a pale trunk and bright red leaves, not another person. 

Oh. 

Adam rubbed his eyes with both of his hands, and it seemed that his eyes did deceive him the first time as a small red tree was still what stood in front of him. Perhaps the day was still a little too early for him. 

Regardless, his misperception wasn’t going to stop him from continuing his leisurely morning stroll. So, Adam turned back towards the riverbank and resumed to trail along the rippling waters. Though, the further along he went, the dimmer the day appeared. Wasn’t it supposed to become brighter? Even the quiet serenity from earlier had shifted to something a little more eerie. More and more red trees seemed to peek through the forest tree line as the air got heavier and thicker, sending freezing shivers down Adam’s spine. 

Then, something red appeared directly in front of him, glowing faintly in the thick fog. And before he knew it, something grabbed him by his shoulders.

“Adam..! Adam..!”

The fog cleared and Lucifer stood in front of him, shaking him slightly by his shoulders. 

“Lucifer..?” Adam slowly blinked. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? Adam, you've been missing since this morning!” Lucifer pulled Adam into a tight hug. “I thought you were gone!”

Adam frowned, confusion evident in the furrows of his brows. “I was just taking a quick morning stroll along the river.” He turned to his left to point at the small river, but was met with dry, dead trees with no sign of a river nor was it early in the morning anymore. When did he stray away from the river? And how long had he been wandering? Out of the corner of his eye, in the distance behind Lucifer, he saw a gigantic tree with black twisting roots. The way its branches curved like hands urging him for a dance. 

Noticing the distracted look in Adam’s eyes, Lucifer placed a hand on Adam’s head, pulling his attention back to him and his sight away from that damned tree. 

“Let’s just go back, okay?,” he asked, looking Adam in the eye. 

“Okay.”

~

“Where’s Lilith?,” asked Adam as soon as they got back to the cave. The cave appeared to have way fewer items than before he had gone for his morning walk. 

“She’s with her husband,” Lucifer answered casually as he tidied up the place a little. “Why?”

Adam turned to look at Lucifer as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing ever, which at this point was for Adam. “Her…husband?,” he asked slowly, unsure if he had heard Lucifer correctly the first time.

“Yeah, her husband, the second man Evan,” Lucifer replied before looking up to face Adam. “Are you okay?”

No. Adam was not okay. Not. At. All. 

“Uh…since when..?,” Adam asked with a shaky breath. 

Lucifer dropped a wooden carving of a duck from his hand and quickly strode over towards his husband and held him steady. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

Adam could feel his breathing become shallower, the space around him seemed to twist and swirl, and narrowed around him, the ground floating and becoming more distant from him. What was happening? Everything felt so wrong. The last few days he experienced and remembered…where did they go? His head hurt. His head hurt so much. The pain kept growing and growing and—

—-

The next time Adam opened his eyes, his head was lying on Lucifer’s lap, his husband. 

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” Lucifer smiled as he gently brushed Adam’s hair with his fingers. 

Adam couldn’t help but lean into the touch. The repeated slight pull on his scalp simply felt nice, like an invitation to soft cloudy dreams. He released a contented sigh, his eyes feeling heavy again despite only having woken up.

“Now now, it’s about time you got up,” Lucifer chuckled. “Come on.” He shuffled slightly as he helped Adam up from his lap. “Apple?,” he offered, a shiny red apple in his hand.

“Thank you,” Adam reached out and grabbed the apple, biting into it. It had a delightful crunch between his teeth, sweet and fresh on his tongue, and filling in his stomach. How endearing. Lucifer always got him the best version of his favourites. His ever fawning husband. 

“What part of the day is it?,” Adam asked when he noticed that there was barely any light peeking into the cave. 

Lucifer glanced up and around contemplatively, fingers holding his chin, “Hmm, it should be late in the evening now, close to dusk.” 

“Oh. That late already?,” Adam wondered aloud. That meant he hadn’t done anything all day. He couldn’t have slept the whole day away, could he? But when he searched his memory for what he had done today, he came up with nothing. “Did…did I sleep the whole day away, Luci?”

“Yes, but you’ve been unwell lately, so that’s to be expected,” answered Lucifer.

That made sense, Adam supposed. He certainly felt much better now though, that day-long sleep providing him the rest he probably needed. Though, something did feel unwell, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. A sudden wave of exhaustion draped over his body as he tried to fish around his mind to figure out what was still bothering him. He dropped the apple he was holding and placed a hand over his mouth as a surge of nausea rose up his throat, leaving him trembling slightly.

“Oh dear, I think you’re still sick.” Lucifer spread his arms wide, head tilting back down to his lap. “C’mon, let’s get you some more rest.”

Adam slowly crawled back to Lucifer and placed his head back on his lap as he wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, snuggling into his robe. He felt Lucifer’s feather-light touches on his head, brushing his hair gently as he untangled them one by one. Soon, a sweet melody echoed throughout the cave, bouncing between the walls and sounding like a choir of glistening night stars and gently trickling streams on a chilly morning. Adam had only recently woken up, but he could already hear sleep whispering in his ears calling for him to join them, and let it kiss his eyelids goodnight. And so, he did. He needed the rest anyway.

“Goodnight and sweet dreams, Adam.”

—-

Two days had gone by and Adam hadn’t yet ventured out far from the cave. Whenever he did so, a wave of weakness would come crashing down on him as if his body would only then suddenly remember that it was still unwell. Thankfully, Lucifer was never gone from his side for too long, otherwise he wouldn’t know what to do being holed up by himself in such a small space. 

Today too, Adam remained inside the cave, sitting by the entrance carving a little wooden ducky for when Lucifer would come back. Normally, the angel would've arrived about an hour ago, but he seemed to be quite late today. Maybe Heaven had given him a lot to do today. Adam placed the carving tools and the wooden ducky down, sighing discontentedly. The more he idly waited around, the more restless he got. As the first man, Adam was meant to explore and discover new things in the garden, not be huddled up doing nothing in one spot. 

Well, if anything, he could try again today. There was no harm in trying.

Adam slowly stood up, arms stretched out and ready to grasp onto anything in case he ended up tripping. A step, then two, then more until he was a good distance away from the little cave. The expected nausea never hit him. Adam grinned from ear to ear, his heart beating fast from excitement and joy. He was finally healthy again! He flexed his toes, feeling the softness of the grass beneath him, the air had never smelled so fresh to him before, the flowers had never looked so colourful. This was more like it. Wild and free to roam wherever he pleased.

He wandered around, not really following any particular direction. Wherever he went, animals greeted him with head bumps, playful nudges, settling on his hair; others even trailed behind him for a while. It seemed that the garden’s other residents missed him just as much as he missed them. 

The squirrels hopped alongside him, chasing fluttering butterflies; birds flew past him as they circled around each other; foxes skittering between his legs, some others bumping into him and pushing him forward. A skip and a hop and dancing around small streams and rocks and branches, Adam followed along the wave of animals around him, joining them in their little playful dance. 

Adam took another step forward, and maybe he misjudged his step, maybe it suddenly breached the soil, but this time his foot got caught on a large root sending him to fall towards the ground and onto something viscous. A thick black liquid coated his arms and torso, with some splattered on his face as well. When he looked back up, the animals had all scampered away into the thick fog that had now surrounded him. A heavy gloom hung in the air as the fog masked the landscape he was currently in, with the only hint being the withered ends of scorched trees peeking through the ominous grey around him. 

Pushing his hands against the puddle he fell into, Adam tried to get back up again and get away from this place, and yet he remained stuck on the spot. The root he had tripped over had suddenly grown more in the short time since he fell; it now wrapped itself around his ankles, chaining him into the ground and deeper into the puddle of black goo. Adrenaline rushed throughout his system as panic invaded his thoughts. He shook and pulled and twisted his legs in his struggle to escape the root’s tight grip. Eventually, a crisp crack rang into the chilly air, the root having been broken by his efforts. 

Once free, Adam rushed back up, and simply ran. Which direction? He didn’t know and he didn’t care, he simply needed to get away from the place. Though, the more he ran, the colder the air felt against his skin, and the thicker the fog became to the point that Adam could barely even see his own hands in front of him. But he kept running and running until he bumped into something large and rough, and fell onto his rear. In front of him was the very tree that appeared vaguely in his memories and dreams, whispering promises of knowledge and wisdom. He could feel the tendrils of temptation slithering into his mind, groping around his brain in search of something. 

Adam quickly turned around, he had learned his lesson, nothing good ever came from interacting with that cursed tree. But what greeted him was a group of twisted trees that twisted and merged together into a prickly amalgamation, acting as an impenetrable wall that caged him together with the enigmatic tree. 

Soon, the wall of interlocking branches twisted some more and crept closer forward, pushing Adam further into the centre until he had nowhere else to go but beside the massive tree. A sickening crunch echoed in the air as the tree ripped itself open in half, a rush of viscous black liquid gushing out and a putrid smell of sulphur permeated the atmosphere. A hellish heat spread throughout the area, igniting some of the branches on fire, like fiery red eyes surveying a caged animal. Adam turned around and faced the gaping hole in the tree. The black goo shiny like a mirror, whispering to him to come closer.

Come.

Take a look and see.

The truth is within your grasp. 

Adam listened to the whispers, and took a small step forward, leaning forward into the hole. On the shiny black surface, he saw himself. Golden eyes that glowed faintly, his skin looked…pallid, large dark horns curved from his head, and his chest had multiple scars focused on a specific area. 

A sharp, stinging pain suddenly erupted from his chest. And when he placed a hand over his chest, red liquid coated his hand, and more flowed out of him. He looked back up to the hole within the tree, and saw a blood red sky, a city of corrupted souls, and heavenly corpses feasted upon by beasts. 

The hole widened even further as more black liquid poured out; it was large enough for a person to fit through. Adam reached out, dipping his hand into the dark liquid. But in the corner of the shiny surface, was a reflection of fiery red eyes and three pairs of red-white wings. A freezing hand landed on Adam’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. 

“Adam, you never listen, do you?”

[crossingthedreams]

shaking — javier peña x f!reader

a/n: this is day 13 — shaking, of @angstober, and i’m late with day 12, too, hehe. i wish i was better at time management, lol. anyway, as always, feel free to dm me and let me know what you think! 

masterlist

word count: 670

warnings: angst, descriptions of anxiety, unspecified mental illness, separation/break-up, established relationship.

TRIGGER WARNING: anxiety, mental illness. proceed with care.

You woke up shaking once more. 

The nightmares were very common, and it was usual for you to wake up drenched in sweat, shaking to the bone. 

On nights like these, which were most nights, you reached out to the other side of your bed and your heart would ache less and go slowly back to its normal pace when you found Javier there. 

Your man was a light sleeper, so most times he would hold you before you were even awake yet. Other times, when you didn’t scream yourself and him awake, and woke up quietly, but terrified, you would wake him up, reluctantly. He told you a million times it was okay to wake him, that he was there for you. Somehow, after a while, you found yourself believing that. 

Tonight, things were different. Tonight, Javier wasn’t there and being alone in that house made everything worse. 

You practically crawled out of bed, vision blurry, and found your way to the bathroom. No lights, you couldn’t handle any lights right now.

Where was he? Why would he say he’d be there if he wasn’t? Why was it that you always found a way to push him away until he couldn’t handle you? The questions, most of which you would have forgotten about in the morning, kept pounding in your brain.

Where was he? 

You were on your knees close to the toilet. The coolness of the toilet began to calm you down, as disgusting as that sounds. You embraced it, head leaning on the seat. The vomit came easily, but it didn’t make you feel any better.

Crying whilst throwing up was a herculean task. 

At least you had it in you to remove your hair from your face before.

Your body slowly began to calm itself down. The street lights coming in through the bathroom window, the coolness of the floor and the toilet, the fact that you didn’t have any more tears to cry — it all made you slow down, and eventually, sleep found you, still on the floor. 

Hours later, Javier Peña was drunkenly making his way into his house. A buddy was retiring, and the small going away party became a full blow out night. 

Javier called your name when he walked in, half expecting you to still be awake waiting for him. “Cariño?”, he called, walking into your shared room. 

His heart stopped and his entire body froze when he realized you weren’t there. He sobered up in record speed, looking for his gun in belt. It wasn’t a good idea to let an inebriated agent with a gun, but there he was. 

He tiptoed into the bathroom, gun in hand still, using his body to open the door. 

The sight of you, curled up in a ball on the floor, broke his heart. He put the gun away and kneeled in front of you.

Javier thought that he should’ve known better, should’ve been there. But there was a part of him that resented you very deeply. He couldn’t even have one night? Why can’t she be more independent? Is this how your relationship would play out forever? His mind was racing, and the alcohol was no ally of his right now. 

He sat down next to you, moving his hand to take a lock of hair from your face but stopping at the very last second. He didn’t want to wake you, so he just laid there, which was barely possible due to the small size of the bathroom.

On the cold floor, the two of you slept until morning. 

When the light of a new day woke Javier up, you were still asleep, but somehow closer to him. Most questions from the night before had disappeared from his brain. All but one, in fact. Why can’t she be more independent?, Javier thought. 

He didn’t want to leave. He loved you. Yet, somehow, that didn’t seem like it was enough anymore.